Painting King’s Cross the pink side forced me to do something I thought I never would.
In my box of watercolour paint tubes I have a colour that I had never used until this painting. A bright fluorescent pink called Opera.
How do you create such colour? I was sure I’d never use it. Ever. First of all, I’m not keen on pink, although this sort of pink is preferable to the washed out baby pinks. Second, I couldn’t imagine a more artificial, garish colour. Even looking at it made me cringe.
Then, 9 years later, I decided to do this image. I took the reference photo in October, 2019. The lighting gave everything a vivid pinky purple hue. Opera was the only colour that came anywhere near close enough. So I took the plunge. I didn’t like the initial paintings. But eventually, the other colours work their magic. I still feel the painting looks part finished, as if great big holes have been created and washed all the colour away. But that’s the effect of brilliant light against white beams that reflect back on themselves.
Reminiscent of Spider man comics casting an impossible web from his wrist.
A straight line tha transforms into a lattice of web. Attaching to whatever or wherever it is needed as it spreads out. I first saw Kings Cross with this roof. So I don’t know what, if anything if it replaces. The graceful arch is a delight and seems impossibly delicate. And yet that’s the point, the beauty and the strength of such architecture. Like the veins on leaves, it provides strength, while retaining a proportion of lightness. This allows it to float, in an apparently effortless manner.
At the very bottom you see the top of the arrivals and departures board. Details are hidden too small to make out. The platform’s could be crowded, or empty.
Nothing else matters besides that roof. The delight of painting Kings Cross. The delight of painting any atrium roof like those at the British Museum and Royal Opera House
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