Monte Berro - Oil on Canvas, 46.5 x 21.5cm £350
I painted the picture of Monte Berro at sunset in mid September, just after a rainstorm. The clouds had fragmented into ‘God’s fingers’ and the glorious pale yellow sun cast its gilding for that one hour before disappearing behind the mountain. The greens had taken on a variety of surreal hues once the power of the sun lost its bleaching effect.
I’ve been fascinated with mountains since I was a small child and lived at the foot of Table Mountain in Cape Town, one of the most iconic mountains in the world. It towered above us and during the heat of midsummer would cast a refreshing shadow over our house giving relief from the fury of the summer South Easterly gales that could blow you off your feet.
I spent thousands of hours gazing up at it, mostly trying to judge the weather because even a small cloud hanging over the peak above would predict a storm or fierce wind. I learned to recognise and name every crack and buttress on its many faces.
Now we live in Italy and have a similar relationship with a different group of mountains, the Monti Sibillini. A cloud over these mountains can mean so many things: a storm, the end of a storm, snow or just the threat of the fickle mountain weather when violent thunder storms in midsummer are not unusual. I have painted the same scene many times trying to catch the various ‘moods’ of the mountain, watching it change colour over the period of a day or even a few hours. I could use almost the entire colour palette.
Most paintings and drawings are unsuccessful but occasionally one of them sings to me.
Paul Cezanne became obsessed with Mont St Victoire and this year I was extremely fortunate to be taken to visit his studio and see the great mountain itself. Without any drawing materials (duh) I made sketch on my phone.
It felt really difficult to paint and my admiration for Cezanne’s genius went up another notch. How did he succeed again and again?