How do you add a little snazzle to a show of dry old master etchings? Throw in a little “high tech” wizardry, that’s how. Finding a display of Etch-a-Sketch tablets alongside the wonderful Rembrandt Etching show at the Worcester Art Museum a couple of weeks ago put a smile on my face. Patrons were welcome to add their own masterpieces to the incredibly diverse exhibition via the dozen or so classic toys laid out in the gallery. Most were crap - silly graffiti and such - but this one stirred me (get it? “stirred” not “shaken”).

Sorry.

Seriously, the show runs through to February 19 and it is well worth the trip. In today’s digital tool enhanced world, it is even more impressive to see what the human hand is capable of creating.

Wistman’s Wood

Like many of us, during the pandemic I did my fair share of armchair travel, surfing the net and dreaming of a future where I could travel in person again. One discovery that buried itself in my consciousness was an ancient oakwood in the south of England named Wistman’s Wood. Located in Dartmoor, it is a tiny (8.6 acres) forest that contains some of the oldest flora in the UK. Protected and sheltered by the surrounding topography, the trees are dwarfed and highly contorted, rising up from a bed of moss-covered granite stones. Visually, they are organically stunning - mystical and other-worldly. There’s some evidence that Tolkien used it as the inspiration for Mirkwood in The Hobbit. In fact, many legends and ancient lore associated with this spooky grove date back to the time of the Druids.

And that’s cool…

But it’s not why I began making art inspired by it.

After completing a dozen or so drawings and paintings of Wistman’s Wood - with no other reason than it was simply the thing to do at the moment - I sat down with them around me in my studio and asked them. “WTF?“ I said to them, “I come across all kinds of interesting stuff on the internet every day, but I don’t feel compelled to paint them. Why you? Talk to me!”

Of course, they didn’t answer. They never do (that would be crazy, right?). What they do, what these paintings always do, is simply throw even more questions back in your face. “You tell me,” they’ll say, “You getting tired of painting funky buildings and bridges and such?” “Sick of the same old palette of cool blues and greasy greens?” “Looking for a new adventure?” “I think you’re bored, that’s all.”

Cheeky bastards, these things we make.

And all it amounts to is a lot of blah, blah, blah, diverting your attention away from the simple fact that making art is how you think. How you process. The reason why you make something will come out eventually, in it’s own good time. All of us are wired differently and tuned into a particular piece of the world that speaks to us, and we need to pay attention. If we try to figure out the “why,” we’ll miss out on the joy.

Just do it, indeed.