Drawing or painting a still-life has always been about seeing. Looking closely, noticing, watching. About being in the moment, seeing the transience of life itself.
Before it became normal for us in the first-world, to carry screens with us to stare into, people used to sit and gaze out of windows; on the bus, the train, from the back seat of the car. We used to watch the trees, count the cars and people driving on the other side of the road. Notice people: how they walked, talked to each other. There was value in this, we connect by seeing. That's why those screens are so 'natural' to us in barely a decade of all human existance we have taken to them as manna from heaven.
We need our stories. Stories are survival. Our earlist thoughts are stories. Starting from a string of simple objects, like all children, we make-believe ourselves into this life. It is part of our emotional tool-box, our first-aid kit, and it's vital. Every single moment of the day we tell ourselves the story of who we are, they keep us alive. Those seemingly ornamental objects on our mantle pieces are rarely just 'styling'. They, at evey glance, remind you of who you are, where you have travelled (both emotionally and geographically.)
Lately, I've had to move my workshop back into my home after two and a half years in Bray. All the collected objects of my story are now 'back home.' I can walk straight from the bedroom into the workshop just like when I was a child and all my 'work' was reachable while still in my dressing gown.
Magnicent examples of the Dutch painters still inspire awe. One place I'm putting on my list of places to visit when we are released back to our lifes is the Ashmolean Museum to see some of these (link in the pic. above.)
The short video is a pan of the top of my computer desk to remind me of my journey. (Credit: Jim Clarken, Echt Productions.)