I have always been attracted to image of art from ancient civilizations; Egyptian, Celtic, Mayan, Indian…and have some limited knowledge of local history.

Aged 7...8…9, was moved to dig with abandon, in the garden, for hidden artefacts. My Dad brought home a piece of stone one day that he had picked up in a freshly ploughed field. By the shape of it, sickle-like, with a deep groove from end-to-end, I knew it had been carved, knew it to be very, very old. It spoke to me. A simple tool; an aid of worship; an architectural remnant or a diversion, carving the hours on a winters’ night. Whatever it’s true purpose it had evolved and become a relic- a symbol, an artefact. Significant .

I still love the romance of archaeology, the idea of discovering treasure, not just items of value, but evidence of a life, a mark on the landscape, a carving in a rock, a bead, a button- these things give me a picture of past human existence, which in turn, gives me a place in time.


The clues are there to be found; an old newspaper under the carpet, a sliver of wallpaper exposed in a corner, some incomprehensible colour choice revealed in a chip off the skirting board paint.

In a field see the ridges of ancient farming, the outline of buildings, the scar of an old stone wall- all pressing into the present, shaping the picture, forming it’s background and revealed in it’s topmost layers.


Time is perceived to steal, to take away youth, beauty, yet I can’t help relishing the sight of pock marked stone, crumbling ruins. Because it shows change, evolution and rediscovery and reinvention.

I use layers of paint and varnish, masking areas to create texture that I sand, and layer again. Areas are hidden and revealed, marks and motifs evolve, or become almost completely buried as a result of the process, which does not seek to save the most pleasing, most meaningful, but goes on relentlessly and occasionally, accidentally, throws up onto the surface some discovery, some insight, a connection.

I want the paintings to convey this sense of the ancient, of having been something, maybe an everyday object, and then become a relic, an artefact, over time.

A coin, a wrapper, is tossed heedlessly aside, blown, buried or kicked, then lost to time, which will inevitably, casually, open it’s hand and reveal archaeological riches.

 

Sarah Riseborough
21 The Gables
West Street
Belford
Northumberland
NE70 7QB

Telephone 01668 213 618