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There had
been a dramatic storm overnight and the air was fresh, the early
autumn sunshine soft and warm as I sat on our terraza in Alora,
reading through the notes I had made the day before when I had met
local artist Lyn Holland at the picturesque hilltop restaurant Fuente
de la Higuera on the outskirts of town. Looking up from my writing
pad I gazed out across the valley at the mountains in the distance,
thinking of what Lyn had said to me.
“I love colour,” she enthused, “especially rich,
strong colour. I get very excited about it. It has always been a
major part of my work. I do appreciate pastels, but I prefer strong
colours.” She laughed and then added: “I have a set
of 80 coloured pencils and just opening the box and looking at them
gives me a real buzz.”
Having been living in Spain now for a year with her partner, author
and photographer Derek Hibbert, Lyn has had a very busy time, giving
art lessons, both as holiday packages and to local residents in
Alora, as well as doing commissioned artwork of animals and houses
for people who live in the area.
“Recently I have begun to work more with watercolours,”
she went on, “and they help me to analyse the make-up of colour.
As well as colour I love the fluidity of line work and putting the
two together. Spain is great for colour, the richness of the scenery,
the people, flamenco, the passion of their lives.”
From our terraza, still pondering Lyn’s words, which also
fascinated me, I tried to look at the countryside through her eyes.
I also love the richness of colour in Spain and the vibrance of
life here, especially compared to the more reserved way of life
in England, fills me with energy. Yes, I could see the colours,
I appreciated the fluidity of lines, but could I put these elements
together into a masterpiece of art?
“Yes, I do think that people can learn to draw and paint,”
said Lyn in answer to my question, “as long as they are determined.”
With years of teaching experience behind her, she should know and
it sounded most encouraging, although when prompted she did admit
that she had had occasional pupils who may perhaps be better off
admiring the work of others (perhaps like myself!) and she did laughingly
agree that there may be such a thing as some kind of artistic dyslexia
in some people.
Lyn knew from a very early age that she was going to be an artist
herself. “I was always drawing things I saw around me,”
she said, “especially animals, and when I was very young a
family friend, who was also always drawing and painting, gave me
lots of help and encouragement.”
Art college was a foregone conclusion. And then? Off into the wild
blue yonder to follow her artistic heart regardless of the consequences?
Well, no, not exactly. That, perhaps, is where Lyn differs fundamentally
from other artists I have spoken to.
“My friends often tell me that I am too normal to be an artist,”
she laughed. “I’ve always been very level-headed and
very practical. I knew that I had to make a living and so as soon
as I finished college, where my main interest had been sculpture,
I became a school teacher, first Maths and then Art. I began as
a supply teacher and then worked my way up to Head of Department.”
Although her teaching has never really stopped completely, it had
to take a back seat for a while as she changed direction and started
up a cottage industry with her mother, spinning and knitting textiles
at home and then selling them in a market.
“It was hard,” she said, although I thought I detected
a glint of nostalgia in her eye, perhaps emphasised now because
her one regret about living in Spain is that she misses her mother
who still lives in England.
“One day I had an idea to illustrate sewing patterns and I
went up to Oxford Street, walked into John Lewis, met the buyer
and got the contract!”
Lyn then started a marketing cooperative with four other designers
in knitwear and fashion. Overheads were shared equally, but profits
were distributed according to individual input, a good theory that
proved difficult in practice.
Two further businesses followed, an upmarket fashion shop, where
she worked with two other designers for about a year and then an
interior design shop, which she managed on her own. The business
boomed for four years and she was exporting goods to Japan and the
USA. Then suddenly the bottom fell out of the market, with an influx
of cheaper goods from places like Taiwan. This, together with a
growing exasperation at not having time to do her own artwork, was
part of the reason for moving to Spain.
While promoting her art holidays in Spain and giving art lessons
locally, Lyn has completed three beautiful commissioned paintings
of houses in the area, the beginning of a new enterprise where she
plans to sell the paintings together with sets of cards bearing
the prints of the original artwork.
Breathtakingly talented, Lyn remains level-headed, modest and very
open minded. “Everybody sees things differently,” she
said, “when I am teaching I try not to direct pupils according
to my own style. In fact I constantly learn from them, it’s
a two-way process.”
And my last question. Was it a silly one to ask? Was it a difficult
one to answer? There was a lengthy pause and I braced myself.
“Why do you paint, Lyn?” I had asked.
“It’s the only thing that keeps me sane,” she
laughed, to my relief, “I can forget all my problems when
I am painting.”
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