There is a contradiction held by the thistle, for first it invites me in, the details and colour, the complexity of form, how can I not come closer.
But then its fine barbs on the leaf edges say, close enough, I am not for the taking. So I step back, as if stung.
That is the power of thistle, it makes you move.
And to paint thistle, well, that is a delicate dance, for when I seek to capture the duality of this floral trickster, soft edges and hard points, the brush must be held lightly, moving between the barbs. I thought I was in control, but even here the thistle is in control of me, too much here, not enough there. No creative license allowed.
But when all is done I step back, and there it is, prickly in places, shades of soft green in others, but a game for the eye as well, of finding details, and then areas of loose colour and form.
So as an artist I have learned a trick from the thistle, come in closer to look at the detail, but if you want to find what it is that I am trying to say, then you will need to step back.
And surely, that must be, what an incredibly beautiful plant.
So beautiful and poetic