We were so lucky to move into a recently renovated house, but equally as depressing having no art, no nothing. It's off white egg shelly goodness is decidely lack lustre - and has forced me to become obsessed over the millions of interior design/ art blogs littering my newsfeed.
There's this one white wall in our house that is screaming for a big fuck off canvas on it - central living room position - ultimate in aesthetic porn.
I reckon when I'm rich and famous I'll purchase one of these beautiful eye candy paintings by the incredibly talented Peter Lanyon. A Cornish painter, he died in the sixties as a result of a gliding accident - the value of his art sky rocketing (as is the case with all artists). Highly respected around the European community of artists, particularly the St. Ive's group of artists.
I'm a sucker for those massive abstract paintings that use a hell of a lot of acrylic and scream texture. They are meant to portray the landscape, baby blues for sky and fire hungry ochre for the earth and fire. There's always so much going on in his paintings - geometry playing a huge part of them, jagged lines, perfect curves and a constant look of hurried finishes, the final stamp of beauty on his works. At times they seem industrial and modern for the time, but mostly they are a simple foolproof aesthetic - his use of palette is extremely thoughtful and thus are a stand out in his genre of painting for me. The best thing about them is that he, like many an abstract artist does unfortunately, is maintain a restricted palette. He explores all elements of landscape by introducing every colour combination that is shown in nature itself - showing a true love of his content matter.
Any'd look good on a black wall/white wall/my wall for sure. Maybe I should kill off my artist mother so I can afford a Lanyon. Or rob MOMA.
