The Cat and the King

In my middle twenties, by then a father of two and set on a career in industrial marketing I had this urge to paint. When everyone was in bed and all was quiet
I would get out my basic set of oil paints and brushes and my Daler boards and my library art books to copy the paintings of masters old and not so old. From Picasso and Braque and Matisse back through literally all the impressionists and some of the Dutch masters to the one above, by an Italian whose name I've lost in the mists of time. Carravaggio? Anyone know? Anyway I seem to remember it being called ‘The Fall of Rome’ and that it is probably a couple of metres wide!
All my copy results were presented to friends and family, many of them now who knows where. This one came home after the death of my father and was hidden away in our attic until our recent move to Kirkhill House in Aultbea.
My copying / learning phase lasted perhaps a couple of years. It’s good sometimes to walk in the shadow of genius. The cat can indeed look at the king. I can still lose myself in the great art galleries.
But after this copying phase, whenever the time and opportunity have presented themselves all my efforts, however prosaic, were and still are my own ‘originals’.

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