Aquatic Veil II

St James’s Park Series

€165.00

Watercolor on W & N Cotton Paper.
23 W  x 30.5 H cm.
2026
Signed Front B/R.
Unframed.

Unique Piece 1/1.
Cetificate of authenticity printed.
Blockchain QR certified by Certs 365
Aquatic Veil II is the second of eight sheets devoted to what the lake at St James’s keeps out of sight. Not the bridge, not the pelicans, not Nash’s serpentine outline as a postcard. The plants. The ones that live in the mixed weather of mud and light, under a royal water that was once a straight canal and is now a designed wilderness in the middle of the city.

This sheet is more spare than a thicket and more bodily than a diagram. Two oval forms hang in the upper half, joined at a narrow neck—pads, bladders, leaves seen from below, or simply two weights of blue that have agreed to stay near each other. A few stems cross beneath them, thin, not quite a grid, more like a decision to go on. In the lower right a dark, violet-grey swell occupies the corner, blooming at its edge: the bed of the lake, a stone, the place where light gives up. Fragments at the margins—a triangle, a sliver of wash—suggest that the underwater world continues beyond the paper. Two faint verticals fall through the ovals, current or rain or the memory of the old canal’s discipline.

The eight-part set is meditative because the subject is slow. Aquatic flora do not perform. They occupy. Intertwining here is not a crowd of lines; it is a small society of shapes that share a climate. Indigo gathers in the pods and along a ridge. Sky blue thins until it is almost only the paper speaking. Soft grey makes the lower swell feel heavier than the stems, as silt is heavier than a leaf. If a grid is present, it is only the habit of looking—the park as an observed enclosure—and the quieter habit by which a stem repeats itself.

Resilience, in this piece, is not a slogan. It is the oval that holds together while the wash wants to fray. Interconnection is the neck between two forms. Unseen beauty is the fact that most visitors will never stand where this view would be possible: under the skin of the lake, in the interval between root and reflection.

The paper does the rest. It is the water the plants float in. Pigment is allowed to granulate, to leave a tide-mark, to fail at an edge. Nothing is finished into a botanical plate. The park’s ecosystem is present as a few suspended lives and one dark floor. That is enough for the veil to have lifted, a little.