Swaledale on the Moors, 2021
Garth Bayley
Inks, oil pastel, oil on paper
Original Painting, 70 x 50 cm
Garth Bayley Art
Expert's
Perspective
Summer rowers, acrobatic performers, cyclists, speed skaters, athletes in moments of concentration, motivation and competition. No game is a losing game when it comes to the true spirit of participation in a particular sport, without the reward of fame or glory. A range of subjects from horse riding to landscapes, from the hottest day of the year to the dance of Woodland Nymphs, from the static sheep gazing away to the energetic Tour de France, all vivid depictions of an eternal quest to freeze time.
The contemporary art of Garth Bayley is all about capturing a moment and through it to narrate a whole story. He uses oils, pen and ink, watercolour and pastels and pays great attention to colour and movement. He is predominantly known for his sport paintings, mainly cycling, however diversity is his strength. His inspiration derives from people and places, how they both adapt to their environments.
This artist holds the unique charisma to challenge time and directly connect his paintings to their natural surroundings. He gracefully identifies the "right moment" from where it all begins and he invites you to join the ride. Every fast lane gets you high on adrenaline and gives you a life breather, a sense of breaking free, escaping, going somewhere better. He ultimately creates memories of locations, actions, faces and emotions. It's up to you, when you choose to connect, thrive, endure and figure out the true meaning of your life.Kelly Kaimaki, Creative Writer / Curator
About Garth Bayley
About the Product
Sheep on the moor road,
apparitions
in the mist of the low lying cloud.
It was just yesterday
I cowered from the beating sun.
Today I dare not stop in fear of cold.
Sheep on the moor,
apparitions,
like in a dream
where Marcia is there
suddenly by me on the street.
Broad river, flat land, small town
as wondrous to me
as her welcome.
She,
lithe, light, fair, pale skin,
for those months she wanted me.
The love disappeared from her
as if it were never real
like the sheep on the moor.
I search the plains,
the rivers, the coasts,
the mountains.
Never is she there.
My face can freeze,
my limbs can burn
but my heart never ceases to beat for her.
The sheep on the road
bleat
for their lost ones.
Author unknown