Stampede of Happy Memories

I am often amazed when I look at a painting and begin to realise where I have plucked a colour or shape from. Some might have come from ten years before.

Something as random as a fifty-carriage transporter train being held on the opposite tracks at a platform in Germany. The rusty browns and old sculptural fonts painted on its side, ghost writing faded with splashes of surfaces worn by time, or the crazy pink of a plastic cup at a tea stall in India. Stuff like this pops up in my painting years later.

Memory of what I see is often embedded in abstraction. I find this painting to be a happy work, hence the title. It has a lot of landscape around it but the shapes are the central characters, all speedily bustling across the surface, on their way to a party somewhere unseen on the edge of the canvas.