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A place to see art and read about the life and times of Mab.
Here are the remaining paintings that are going to be exhibited.
I shall explain a little about each one:
The Shadow of my Conscience: Was inspired by my daughter, who loves this character (Lady Macbeth). My daughter also modelled for this painting. She's acrylic and mixed media (her corset is made from layers of text from the play and then overpainted in gold).
Where Titania Sleeps: Was inspired by A Midsummer Nights Dream. I loved the idea of Titania, resting in a cool woodland area, surrounded by beautiful flowers, fairy spirits and small grass snakes weaving around. The gold spiral symbolises energy and the snakeskin that is shed, which the fairies wrap themselves in at night time.
Prospero's Plea: Was taken from the Tempest. At the end of the play, Prospero (a magician) literally pleads with the audience to applaud him - the last page has a wonderful feel to it. The hands are his.. outstretched to the audience.. behind him, his magickal text and incantations.. meaning nothing if the audience will not applaud and forgive him! The text is written in Theban and actually spells out a magical incantation from the play.
'Indian Prince' was inspired by A Midsummer Nights Dream. Titania looks after a young indian boy who her husband wants for himself. She's having none of it - she vowed to look after this boy herself, after his mother died in childbirth. The play says that the two women would sit on the shores, watching ships laden with riches and beautiful sunsets, whilst talking about love and life and the baby growing inside her. The beautiful Indian woman would travel far and wide to bring Titania back treasures from other lands. I loved the idea of this child, growing in the womb - unaware of what would happen after his birth. I have taken text from the play and placed this in the womb area. I love this painting!
'Sound and Fury' was inspired by this text:
Macbeth Act 5 Scene 5
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death.
Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
This text is so real, honest and hardhitting. I couldn't resist it. It was painted after a long 'shakespeare' discussion with the family and my daughter's boyfriend said 'this is my favourite piece'. He described it so well - I couldn't not paint it. It is layers of mixed media.. foils, inks, acrylics, filler, built up and then varnished heavily. It's not like my usual work but came about after that deep family discussion!