Whenever it’s a grey day and I’m stuck in the city, I like to explore in the direction of an art gallery. Some days you just need some of Van Gogh’s swirling skies or the sedate, manicured lawns that sit under Stubbs’ stoic horses and mischievous dogs.
Standing there today, I convince myself that I can almost hear the creaking of the wooden hulls on the stormy seas of Turner’s canvases. Then of course I realise that what I can actually hear is the floorboards creaking behind me in the Tate Britain. I’ve been carried away in the adventures of my mind again!
Still there are days when I enjoy the atmosphere (however imagined) that these paintings conjure up in me.
Photos are not my own (obvs).