To the Whittons

About the painting

It was 1999, the dawn of a new millennium, one of my favorite years. I was alone and living in a beautiful town called Lancaster, North West of England. I quickly established a strong connection with the Lancashire region and admired the people there. Lancasterians quickly adopted me as one of their own, not once did I feel like a stranger. I hardly spoke English then, but knew enough words to get a pint or two with the few quids mum used to send me. I knew my time in Lancaster wasn't going to last and that another adventure awaited me somewhere down south. I loved many and many loved me. My visits to the Lake District area opened my eyes and made me realise how beautiful the people of the north are. Coniston still holds a very dear place in my heart. Those curious blonde Coniston girls, the fresh beers, the hikes, the Old Man peak, Gemma, Laurna, Emily, Steven, Gavin, Haley... we were happy and we enjoyed listening to the waterfalls while sharing a spliff or two. The air was crisp and John Ruskin's house was always staring right back at us. Buying bread in Lancaster meant taking the bus and then walking across the town centre, the English love to design their town-centers with very special tiles and tailor made bricks, in Lancaster they were red. I would then cross the street and go for a pint at the Merchant, an old pub right by where the old castle is, from there I'd walk back all the way to my house, taking a long detour where The Whittons lived - a sumptuous demeur with the tiniest river/stream flowing across it. It was Hilary who taught me how to say "Knife, spoon, fork and water (not wa'ar), and it was David who taught me what a 'slapper' meant while we watched Coronation Street. Of course I was mischievous, sometimes naughty, I was still a young boy from North Africa. But there was always Shiela, John, David and Hilary to teach me a good lesson whenever I needed one.

Medium: Oil on Canvas

Measurements: 100 x 100cm

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Why it was painted

Every now and then, I forget few things, fragments of my Lancaster memories started becoming very blurred and I fear I will lose them one day. To the Whittons is a way for me to engrave those memories for ever. The canvas was delicately caressed and I was conscious while painting it. It took me two or three days to establish a good sketch in my head and to find the right emotional balance before I even applied colour. This is very unusual as I am used to a more abrupt and intense approach. To the Whittons is a testament that life is colourful everywhere we go, as long as we let it adopt us and we let ourselves go with the flow.