Lonely, lonely

As the crow flies, I am only 8 kilometers from Bokbaai. Not by road though! All the soil around here is pure loose damp sand, thus the road becomes a challenge of driving on both left wheels, then sort of jump over the ridge and drive on both right wheels, all at high speed. Did I mention the rain?

When the road comes to an end you start walking over a small hill before getting the first glimpse of the house, over 300 years old and vacant. I hope I can express in my painting the total forlorn-ness of this first impression of a once majestic homestead. It lies a few meters above a little bay, which on this particular day was as grey as the sky, as grey as the open sea, as grey as the mountain and the crushed mussel shells with which the yard is paved. The three enormous almost black Norfolk pines standing sentinel, could not be placed better to strenghen the feeling of desolation.

This is only the small side of a very long house and my next painting will show more and relate some of the history connected to the house.