Young oak.

Oil on canvas board

7x4 inches

£25

Down on Seven acres, I have passed this tree many times without taking notice. During the dry sunny spell, I was looking for shade whilst attempting to paint. Sitting beneath its branches, I took in its shape, smell, colour. 

The trunk was only about two foot tall, with branches that looked like the splayed legs of a new born impala. It looked top heavy. One major branch (front of tree) had been snapped off, as well as other smaller ones. New growth almost covered the wounds. It seemed someone big and heavy had trodden on this once young sapling. 

Now, as it struggled to survive, rooting into the ruined walls of the old mill, the hot, dry weather became its enemy as it evaporated the life giving water. But survive it has. About twenty years in fact looking at its overall size, especially the trunk. Even as the modern factory encroaches yearly...By R.A.Hall

The chicken coops.

Oil on canvas board

12x8inches

£25

Sandwiched by two main roads, Bradshaw brook flows beneath the junction out of sight from passing motorists, many who don't even know of its existence. Others do but care little for its beauty, rhythm or idyllic charm, as it tumbles by.

None would know of the little farmstead that hides behind a garage, down a steep embankment beneath the busy roads. Or care about the chickens, pecking away below, scratching for grubs, squabbling noisily. 

With a new fence keeping them in, secure from tyre's and tired, irrate drivers, the chickens are blissfully unaware of the threat. They just love the sound of the brook, the insects falling from trees, and the damp earth providing juicy worms. All in this small enclave, beneath the junction that rattles without stop. Happy to see the painter who stops to appreciate their rickety home...By R.A.Hall

The modern Factory.

Oil on canvas card

12x9inches

£25

I sit amongst the shell of an old derelict mill, once the hub of the early textile age. Its boundaries, just recognizable through the vegetation. Reeds and tall grasses thrive in the boggy remains of the once solid foundations, swamping the walls that lie crumpled and forlorn. I sit in silence, recalling the sounds of those once hard at work, watching them as they sweat and toil.

I smell the remains of the long gone fabrics, the bleach and dyes that coloured their wears. I absorb the surroundings like a new born. 

Young trees, shrubs, foreign weeds grow in abundance. Obliterating what's left. Sucking the life out of the remaining debris. Sprouting from the ground that man had once changed for his advantage. But has now given up the struggle as saplings become mature trees. The challenge to great and costly.

And in the distance that foe beckons. With greater technology. Cheaper materials. Now the need to secure more land - he returns. Encroaching monthly, he reclaims his land. Building a new style of factory for a very modern man. With prefabricated sheets of steel, his new found freedom fills the void of those long gone. And in his wake, a modern day factory rises to show his determination... By R.A.Hall