This interview Copyright © Radiant Light 2006, see ‘Copyright Policy’ at www.radiantlight.org.uk for uses which are permitted.

INTERVIEW WITH ELIZABETH WANG

The story of the 'Prayer' paintings:
about gifts, colour and a new vocation.

Over the past few years people have often asked questions about Elizabeth's religious paintings and about why she began doing this kind of art. Elsewhere, she has written about her faith story, and about God and prayer, but in those writings she has not mentioned much about her painting. We thought it would be good to ask Elizabeth some more detailed questions about her art, especially for this website, so that others can share the background behind the pictures. She answered these questions in July 2006.

1. "When did you start painting?"

CHILDHOOD

As soon as I could hold a paintbrush, and found paints available, in childhood, I enjoyed making coloured marks. It was exciting to be able to reproduce what I saw, even though I did not recognise I was doing so in a childish way. This must have been at nursery school. I well remember, at primary school, using powder-paints every week to convey a scene suggested by the teacher, perhaps of a funfair, a mediaeval battle, or a market. I took this skill for granted, believing that everyone could draw and paint. It did not seem like a special gift, but was something as natural as brushing my hair or playing with Meccano; yet at the same time I was amazed, without being aware of it, that an object in front of me could 'appear' on the paper in front of me, through my own decision and thought, and the use of my hand and pencil. Part of the reason I did artwork, throughout my childhood, therefore, was because it was a pleasure to see that I could. Another reason was that I preferred to be busy rather than bored; and sitting still equalled boredom, to me, unless I was engrossed in a conversation, a picture, a book, or one of the innumerable projects I undertook in childhood, by myself or with friends. For example, we collected oddments for our natural history 'museum', made catapults, and invented codes for sending messages in a club.

2. "What kind of things did you paint as a child and why?"

SIMPLE SUBJECTS

As a child, I painted only what I could see: either on the spot, or from memory. I could 'compose' a scene - a mediaeval battlefield, for example - from disparate elements that I'd already seen in history books, or on the blackboard; but I could not paint fantasy pictures, or weird imaginings. My subjects were usually the house we lived in, or my pet mice - or members of the family, in scribbled portraits. It was not possible to be very adventurous, anyway, because of limited access to art materials.

ART MATERIALS

It was thrilling to find a box of half-used water-colours in a jumble sale one Saturday afternoon, in the church hall. And I remember once being given a set of poster-paints at Christmas. But my idea of 'Art-Heaven' was to be in an art shop or a stationers, in later years, and be able to buy clean, new paper, and not have to draw on the back of old memos from my Dad's office. When I had more money, as a teenager, I spent it on a tin of Derwent colour pencils. I still feel a thrill when I see the landscape design on Derwent tin lids, and remember my first purchase.

3. "Were you artistic in other areas at school?"

SCHOOL DAYS

My ability was seen and appreciated by others - who asked me to make posters, banners for school events - and illustrations for a sixth-form magazine. But I was too impulsive and disorganised to sit myself down and say: "This is what I seem to be good at. How can I best use it?" The people 'in charge' at home and art school rarely spoke to me without referring to exams and homework; so I saw painting only as a hobby, of not much importance to anyone else at the time.

4. "Were you encouraged in your painting, as a child?"

ENCOURAGEMENT AT HOME

I was encouraged, at home, in art, though not in a very 'hands-on' way. My parents were very busy at work. My mother worked full-time and was rarely home till late, so her encouragement took the form of an occasional exclamation that perhaps one day I'd go to Art school. But I did receive an easel from my father one Christmas, as a surprise gift, and I was very moved by his generosity. He had made it himself from narrow lengths of timber: an A-frame shape at the front, with a bar on which to rest a board, and a hinged leg at the back.

A BLACKBOARD

He had even made a plywood board for me, with one side plain, for me to pin my paper on, and the other side painted with blackboard paint, so that I could use chalks, which were much cheaper than paints. I was about seven or eight at the time. Even by then, my father knew I had a gift, though I myself did not know it. I suppose part of the reason I thought everyone could draw was that my mother occasionally made a competent copy of a postcard scene she'd admired, and my father had once tried his hand at water-colours, with some admirable results. He stopped painting, however, to take up carpentry in his spare time. He could make or mend almost anything.

5. "As you grew older, what was the style of your painting?"

BRIGHT COLOURS

What came naturally to me was a realistic, figurative, almost photographic style; but it grew increasingly impressionistic and colourful. When I arrived at the Grammar school at eleven years old, there was no art-room; so I did little regular artwork there until a new tower block was built five years later. Then I painted all alone in the Art-room, near the roof, for my two years in the sixth form. I took Art 'O' level in the lower sixth, and 'A' level in the upper sixth - as well as other A-level exams. So I was able to paint huge images, in powder colour, with a freedom I'd never before experienced. Occasionally, I had to join in a drawing session with juniors; but for the most part our Art Master let me produce whatever came into my mind; and when I was not doing precise and muted studies of my fellow-pupils' faces, as they posed in gym-kit, according to the Art Master's instructions, I used a large brush to produce images that frankly amazed me. It was exhilarating to use such glorious colours. This was in response to his promptings.

SPLASHING OUT

I had rarely had any major difficulties with composition, proportions or perspective; but the main 'fault' he had seen, when he first saw my work, was my inclination to paint everything with a small brush, and to paint every facet of my subject in tremendous detail. He gave me large brushes, large tins of powder paint, and large sheets of sugar paper. So for the first time in my life I felt I could literally 'splash out' in paint. What I produced was very different from the almost monochrome, tidy studies I'd been doing at home for years.

6. "Were there any religious themes in your painting then, when you were a teenager?"

AN UNHAPPY TIME

Many of my paintings evolved into images that were religious - and at a time when I was unhappy, as an Anglican, with the contradictory answers given to me on the subject of Church and Holy Communion. I had just stopped attending church on Sundays, in a deliberate decision, because I did not want to be a hypocrite and pretend to show allegiance to the Anglican church when I did not understand Anglican origins or doctrines. So I was puzzled to see three crosses appearing in my newest cricket scene - or the face of Christ appearing before me, in paint, when my initial intention had simply been to paint a portrait of an ordinary male.

DEEP-ROOTED CONCERNS

I suppose a psychologist would say that my deep-rooted concerns about faith inevitably surfaced in something as profoundly personal as painting; but when I was not doing this sort of work, I was making very competent if pedestrian still-lifes, of skulls, bottles and books, arranged by our Art Master who had to get us through an art syllabus.

7. "Once you had left home did you continue to paint and draw?"

TOO BUSY TO PAINT

Life was so hectic when I left home to earn my living that I painted nothing for about two years - though I sketched miniature portraits in the border of my notebooks, at lectures. I was once 'roped in' to paint some 'ancestral portraits' to decorate a dance-room, for a social event; but I didn't have any time to think seriously about art, because of my hectic social life, yet I found this 'lack' so sad that I realised that 'Art' was what I was born for - as well as for marriage and motherhood, if I could have the good fortune to be proposed to by the right man. So I took a portfolio of art-work to an interview with the Principal of Wimbledon Art College, with some references, and was overjoyed to be accepted.

EXHAUSTION

Unfortunately, I became ill for months, and could not start the academic year. That spelt the end of my dream of formal training, because when I recovered I had to find a job; and I was too exhausted to start again, coping with applications, interviews, grants, and materials.

8. "Were you upset by having had to alter your plans about formal art training?"

MARRIAGE

It was disheartening to find things going wrong. But I was determined not to give in, and to return 'home to Mum'. I was glad to have found work; and somewhere to live, still in London. On the bright side, I had already met the man who is now my husband of over forty years. He lived and studied elsewhere in the Capital. And when I had recovered from my illness, and he had passed his final examinations, we were able to marry. We found a little bedsitter, still in London, and were very happy there. I now began cooking as well as working, however, and was leading a busy life meeting my husband's old friends; so I didn't have a second in which to paint.

9. "How did getting married and having children change things in regard to your art?"

QUIET TIME AT HOME

When I was pregnant with my first child, I eventually gave up paid work, in order to prepare for the birth and be ready to look after the child, and my husband, full-time. There is a steep learning-curve, with a first baby - fitting in feeds with household chores, meals, social life, and family visits and celebrations. But when I grew more competent, I found enough free time, when the child was asleep, to be able to attempt some paintings, at home. That reasonably quiet time of life with my first baby didn't last very long, however, partly because I became a convinced Christian, which meant that it was important to devote some of my meagre leisure to prayer, not just hobbies.

PRAYER AND PAINTING

Few mothers are able to pray first thing in the morning; yet regular prayer became both an obligation and - for a while - a joy to me. So the precious hour when the baby was asleep in the afternoons had to be devoted first to prayer, and then to painting, for the short period of time I had before life became much more hectic.

My husband had a demanding job - with intermittent exams, and late nights studying. This meant that I looked after the baby almost alone; and we also had to move from house to house for a few years, around the country - with myself as chief packer, unpacker, babyminder and curtain-maker. My husband was submerged in his responsibilities in each new promotion.

LOOKING AFTER THE CHILDREN

There were no relatives nearby who could have helped me, if I had tried to take 'time out' to do an Art degree. Anyway, I wanted to look after our babies myself, since much of motherhood is about teaching as well as showing love; and that was so important that I have never wanted to entrust it to anyone else, unless strictly necessary, such as when I was ill, and my daughter went to a nearby nursery at three years old. The same reasons kept me from doing a theology degree, when I had developed a sincere fascination about God, and the Catholic Faith. But I've never regretted having looked after my own children; and I'm aware how fortunate I've been, that my husband could support us, and that I wasn't one of those women forced to go out to do paid work.

I'm also grateful that I've been able to look after our old parents, even though it has meant not being able to paint for long periods - even years. I couldn't have lived with my conscience if I'd said "No" to them; and since the most important moment for me was the present moment, I painted when I could; but when it was impossible to find time for painting I forgot about it, and concentrated on my duties.

10. "As a young adult, what did you paint and why?"

OIL PAINTS

I produced several paintings in the few months when my first baby was asleep, and when we were living in a huge rented house. It had been made available by my husband's employers - with no furniture to fill it. That's why I had a whole empty room in which to set out some paints; and I painted 'from the heart', first in powder colours and then in oils. I bought a book about oil painting, and taught myself how to make canvasses, and mix colours.

My inspiration for my subject-matter came from my inner journey, at that time. I had just decided to ask to be received into the Catholic Church, from the conviction that her teachings were true, and that God was inviting me to accept the truth, and to enter. So when I painted, and first wondered what to paint, I chose to attempt a few Madonnas, using my own face simply for the bone structure, the eyes and the nostrils. It was impossible to do landscapes, with a baby to care for; so I was content to paint whatever seemed possible, at home; and I was always learning, reading everything I could afford to buy: a few paper-back 'how-to' books; and I made and primed my own cotton or linen canvasses, partly because I wanted to use good-quality surfaces, and also because I could not afford to buy ready-made ones.

FLOWERS, IN WATER-COLOUR

A few years later, when we had settled in a house and garden of our own, knowing we'd probably be there for ten or twenty years, I became even more enthusiastic about the gardening I'd always done; and it occurred to me that I should try to paint the flowers I so much admired. From then on, I painted hundreds of flower pictures - in both oils and water-colours, learning as I went along. I even did very detailed work again, now that my old art-master was no longer hovering at my elbow talking about big brushes and big paper.

In explaining what I painted, and why, I must mention my own children. They were so precious to me, and so beautiful in my eyes, that I paused to sketch them at odd moments; and I was surprised to find I could 'catch' a likeness in a few strokes of pencil. Later, I painted the boys in oils, as well as their grandfathers (- my mother refused to be painted, and my mother-in-law had died). And it was when I had framed these pictures and had hung them in our home that I began to receive requests to paint the children of several friends.

IMPORTANT DUTIES

The question about 'juggling' the children and the artwork revives a lot of painful memories. I most certainly did not resent the lack of time in which to paint. The children, and my husband, were my greatest joy, after God. But as I learned how to look after a family, I had to learn how to allot reasonable amounts of time to various things; and when it was quite impossible to find time to paint I accepted the fact; but it felt as painful for my spirit as if I had been a singer who was forbidden to open her mouth to sing, so strong was the yearning I had to record and to share what I saw of beauty in the places and people around me.

Of course, I realised that no gift or hobby can be more important than the care of one's own dearest relations; so I learned to be patient. I supposed that a time might come when I would be able to paint again, perhaps when the children were older.

11. "Even if you had no formal training, did you manage to attend any art-classes, or join any groups?"

SICK RELATIONS

By the time I had three children, and had spent a lot of time looking after sick parents-in-law, as well, I became determined to make a small space for art in my life each week. I was thrilled to be a wife and mother, and had no desire to rush out to do paid work, as I said: but I knew it would lift my spirits if I could find a secure place where I could occasionally paint without interruption. I never painted at home with the children around, except for 'fun' things such as family murals, or carnival monsters - or large 3-D models, in a cardboard box, of famous fairy stories. It seemed wrong to 'shoo' the children away, if they wanted to chat, whether they were infants or teenagers; so I painted, if possible, when they were at school; or I sometimes gave up painting for months at a time when things were hectic, through a mixture of illness, and social events, and various unexpected crises.

LIFE-CLASSES

The reason for all this 'background material' is to answer the question about training. I enquired about life-classes at a local school of art, and was accepted as an external student for a fortnightly two-hour session of painting. A kind young art-teacher used to stroll around, peering at our work; but he gave no direction whatsoever, seeing it as his job only to answer queries; and since I asked no questions, and just painted at top speed for my blessed, uninterrupted hour or two, I cannot say that I was taught or trained; but it was good discipline, and exhilarating. My soul was enlivened merely by being in the same room as other people who made pictures and loved painting. For about a year and a half I carted my tool box of oil-paints to the art school, and my home-made canvasses. I worked hard, and learned a lot through sheer effort, observation and persistence.

MARBLE-CARVING

As far as I can remember, the only other training I've had was a ten-minute chat with a local stone-merchant, who once told me how to carve marble. He very generously gave me a set of his old chisels. For a year, in my thirties, I set up my bags of uncooked rice on a stand in my garage at home, to prop up a piece of marble from the nearby stoneyard. It was thrilling to see the layers peel away, like cheese, at a gentle tap-tap-tap from my hammer, with the right chisel held at the correct angle. So I carved a marble dove, which still sits on my window-sill today. But then I became ill again, and too weak to continue with such demanding labour.

Everything else I know about art, I've learned from books, exhibitions, observation, reflection and experiment; and that includes the colour theory that changed my style, and which has brought me the degree of joy in painting that I had never before experienced.

12. "Which artists most influenced you when you were young?"

IGNORANCE ABOUT ART

As a child, I knew almost nothing about famous painters. I suppose I had heard of Picasso, for his fame and notoriety as a Modernist. I had seen reproductions of the Venus de Milo, and one or two more well-known images such as the Mona Lisa. But I had two busy parents with little spare cash. We lived a very quiet life in a country town; and I can't recall going to an art gallery until I was eighteen and lived in London.

EXPRESSIONISM

Of all the 'Old Masters', I think Botticelli was my favourite; but in my twenties, I was bowled over when I discovered modern painters, above all, the German Expressionists: the 'Blue Rider' school. It included Macke and Marc, with their swirling lines and gorgeous colours. Next, it was thrilling to discover Klimpt, and Emil Nolde, and Gauguin, Cézanne, van Gogh and Monet, and Toulouse-Lautrec. I was charmed by the simplicity and the colour of Modigliani's work, and the beautiful compositions he made with his somnolent nudes. But then it became tedious to encounter walls full of naked women, in every major exhibition - despite the beauty of the human body. It was a relief to discover John Singer Seargeant, when I was beginning to paint portraits. I was in awe of his skill at painting fabrics as well as flesh; and I admired almost everything by Augustus John.

GIFTED PEOPLE

I received a good, informal education by looking at books, galleries and churches which it had been impossible to reach from a restricted life-style when I was doing art in the sixth form at school. Through all my discoveries, I learned to weigh the work of artists of every era and to puzzle over my own reactions. There were many I admired, though I had no desire to imitate their styles. I remember the first time I saw one of Paul Nash's calm but haunting aeroplane pictures. Rosetti and Holman Hunt, of the 'pre-Raphaelites', fascinated me both by their drama and their decorative appeal.

When I began flower-painting, I learned that Redouté had served as a 'benchmark' for all botanical artists. I found his work exquisite, but too formal for my tastes. Redon's flower paintings were more exuberant and colourful; and, considering some different subject matter, but still pondering what gave me joy, I thought very highly of Sutherland's majestic, tapestry Christ, as I gazed at it in Coventry's Anglican Cathedral, and as Christ seemed to gaze down upon me. Sutherland's other work was more abstract, however, therefore less appealing to me; and though I read a bit about sculpture, and sought out a few pieces, and admired Epstein's monumental realism, and Eric Gill's severe but moving bas-reliefs, I was bored by the current fashion for minimalist forms, of the Hepworth and Henry Moore schools.

COLOUR, ABOVE ALL

When I turned back to look at the work of painters, particularly the Impressionists and the Expressionists, it was the colour that seized me, more than any other painting quality; and the excitement of seeing colour well-used is still with me today. It is almost exactly the sort of pure pleasure I experience when I hear a great choral work with interweaving harmonies, which give way from time to time to plaintive recitatives. The special joy of finding such pleasure is that, in art, it does not die away. The object of my fascinated attention remains there, in front of me, whereas music has to be played, sung or heard, over and over again, each time in a new performance. A painting doesn't move!

CREATIVE STRUGGLES

If I'm asked whether these artists inspired me, my answer must be 'Yes' - but in a limited sense. I did not rush home, after attending an exhibition, yearning to paint in the style of the artist whose work I'd just seen. I learned a little painterly 'tip' from them, here and there. But the greatest gain for me was to see anew, at each exhibition, that an ordinary, living person, like myself, on fire to share his excitement at what he had seen before him, had kept going. He had painted, observed, reflected, painted again, and persevered; and here in the exhibition was the evidence that it was worthwhile, even if the painter had died without being recognised. It had still been worthwhile, either because he had at last got his 'message' across, whatever it was, or because he had finally shared his joy with thousands of other people.

After each exhibition of pictures by someone I admired, I rushed home determined to paint more, to paint better, and to be better organised. That's my attitude, in fact, to everything important in my life, in cooking, as in prayer, or dress-making: to do more of it, better, and to be better organised; so of course it applied in things to do with art, as well. It is quite against my nature to say to myself: "I am going to do such-and-such a project, but I need only aim for mediocrity." This was not from a purely instinctive urge to adhere to the well-known adage: "If a thing's worth doing, it's worth doing well." It was a call of conscience, I suppose.

AIMING FOR PERFECTION

If we decide to use our gifts, it's worthwhile being careful and wise in our choices, just as if I buy clothes, it's worthwhile keeping them clean and mended. Or if I make a garment, I oversew even the inside seams that nobody can see. Or when I began to pray every day, I decided that if I could worship God with my body as well as my mind and soul and heart, and in that way show Him the greatest possible reverence and love, I would kneel to pray, instead of lying in bed to make my morning offering. I prayed 'arrow-prayers' each day in every circumstance; but it would not have occurred to me to lie in an armchair for my allotted time of formal praise, thanksgiving and intercession each day. So in all spheres of activity, whether ethical or material, I believe it is better to try for perfection, even if we miss the target, than never to pause and take aim, in the hope of succeeding.

13. "Did you sell any of your artwork at this time?"

EARLY SALES

Ever since I was in the top form at Grammar School I have sold a painting here and there, when someone has admired one and has asked if she might buy it. But I usually regretted my early sales. Having to let go of something you've made that is beautiful is hard, anyway; but you're also tempted to wonder if you'll ever manage to do something as good as that, again. Artists do want to share something of what they produce, however, so we have to learn to live with the pain of letting them go, if we want to share, or sell them. It's a great consolation, though, when we become more proficient, and learn that we can probably produce something just as good once again.

FIRST PORTRAITS

As I mentioned earlier, people asked me to paint portraits of their children, so I fitted that in for a few years, mostly when the children were at school. But I hated the rushing about to sittings - and the endless hopes that a child would actually sit still for more than two seconds. It was a relief to give it up, when it occurred to me that I did not have to accept every commission offered. I was much happier painting flowers, and still-lifes too, which of course never moved.

14. "Were you creative with your own children?"

AMUSING THE CHILDREN

I could not have failed to be creative with the children for the simple reason that I deeply loved each child, and loved to entertain or amuse them. We had our share of squabbles; but we had a lot of fun, too, in the house and garden and on various treats and outings; and many of our activities revolved around an art project, or were made more entertaining through an artistic aspect. For example, the boys loved playing outdoors with model cars; so I made a concrete 'island' in a flower-bed, with coves and cliffs around, and a road across the top, for them to drive their little cars on. They could invent games about smugglers too, and pirates. It was fun showing them how to make paper-maché heads, for string puppets, and glove puppets. When we had a few puppets, we'd put on informal shows, or use the characters at our birthday parties.

The biggest puppet I made was an 'Emu' bird, which, I'm sorry to say, was a bit frightening for three-year-olds, though they appreciated it in the end. I couldn't make Emu gesticulate too wildly, anyway, as I was six months pregnant with our third child; and I couldn't risk falling onto the floor during my 'Emu' session at my younger son's birthday party.

MODELS AND MONSTERS

There are so many projects now flooding into my memory, that I can't put them all down. But I'm sure the children - now in their thirties - will remember the various crib sets we've made for Christmas, and the model fairy-tales, and the animal seats at one of our parties, with fake palm trees waving overhead. They will remember the prison warders I made, and the Roman emperors, not to mention the ten-foot nurse, doctor, gorilla, and dinosaur that I made over a few years, in our front room, to decorate a float in a local carnival, and to place around the Public Hall for a series of charity Jazz Dances.

I'd better stop now; but the children are very gifted, and they have also had lots of practice at all sorts of arts and crafts, and are capable of producing all sorts of well-designed objects.

15. "You didn't have a studio at this time. Where did you paint when you had small children?"

A SPARE ROOM

I mentioned that my husband's employers put us in a rented house for a few months, when our first baby was small. That's the only reason why I had a whole room in which to scatter my paints and canvasses for a short time. It was wonderful. I had never lived anywhere spacious; and I enjoyed every minute of my time in that room. After six months we were fortunate enough to buy our own first home, however; so we moved to a little 'semi' a mile away; and that's when my sick mother-in-law moved in; and my painting had to stop, anyway; so I just forgot about it, until life had changed in several ways, and I found myself further South, in another 'own home' - with older children and, for a short time, a spare room.

I pulled out my paints and canvasses yet again, and taught myself how to do glazes, in the style of the old masters: reds and browns glazed upon a green underpainting; and the effect was magical. But then my father -in-law became ill, and came to stay, taking over our spare room, of course. He was with us, 'off and on', for about two years. I had a third child, a beloved daughter, during that era, and was busier than ever. So that's when I decided to make time for a regular life-class, rather than give up completely yet again, or make fruitless attempts to paint at home.

AT THE DINING-TABLE

Later, when Grandpa was better, and the children were older, I decided to try to paint at home occasionally, in term-time. I spread a cloth and clean paper on the dining-table, and would work for two hours at a time, on water-colour flower paintings. But it all had to be cleared away if visitors came, or if someone else needed the room for a musical evening or a school project. Fortunately, I am able to concentrate fiercely, and am fairly prolific. There was no question of waiting until I was 'in the mood' for painting, any more than an opera singer has to get 'into the mood' to sing. She knows she must practise, and that she has limited time. I knew I must paint; so when I had an hour or two, I did it.

Of course, that was only possible because I tackled such ordinary subjects as flowers and still life. If I'd been trying to 'dream up' pictures about fantasy worlds, or was composing mythical scenes, or meaningful 'statements' in paint about marriage, or Creation, I might have had to wait for inspiration. But that was not my 'scene'. I loved what I did, and had no desire to do anything differently - except to explore various mediums and to improve my artists's 'eye' and my techniques. I experimented with charcoal and pastels, and did a few landscapes, after taking some water-colours with me on family holidays abroad. But mostly I loved to paint at home, when possible.

STILL-LIFES

My mother spent the last year of her life with us, in 1980; and one of the still-lifes I did at that time brought enormous joy to her, indirectly, in her last illness, and to me, and to the rest of the family. My 'Apples on Gingham' was a bright, cheerful, detailed water-colour, and was selected and hung by the Royal Academy for its Summer Exhibition, in 1984. My mother gleefully talked about it to her friends as she sat in the back garden, resting, and enjoying the sunshine and the flowers.

16. "How did you feel having a painting in the Summer Exhibition at the Royal Academy?"

A 'REAL' ARTIST

It was exciting to have a painting accepted in 1984 at the Royal Academy; in fact, two were selected, and one hung. But the 'Apples on gingham' that was hung, and sold, was featured in the illustrated catalogue. That made my family really happy. The entire business confirmed my 'idea' of myself as an artist; but I hope it did not make me proud, for the simple reason that I believe our gifts come from God. It was He Who allowed me this marvellous means of sharing joy and beauty; so it would be impertinent of me to congratulate myself for my skills, or for the hard work involved in doing something which He had made possible and which makes me very happy.

17. "You began to exhibit in a number of galleries around the country. Can you tell me a bit about some of these?"

AROUND THE COUNTRY

After exhibiting at the Mall Galleries, and the Royal Academy, I was sought out by the Seen Gallery, in Knightsbridge, and by a prestigious art gallery in Helmsley, York, and a few other places. My husband and I took a few paintings to these places; but I realised within a year or two that I was spreading my work rather thinly, and spending too much time on organisation; so I decided only to exhibit in London once a year, and to do book covers and greetings cards, which I could paint at home. It was fun to have gone out and about on a few trips to other galleries. It was a new experience for me to be treated as a professional artist and not as someone with a 'hobby'. I was married in 1963, in an era when a housewife - which I was not ashamed to call myself - was regarded as a very lowly life-form in a world of interesting men; so it felt good to be respected for what I had done with so much thought and effort. I'm a normal human being who enjoys the ordinary successes in everyday life; but I had no desire to be even better known, in the art world, or more successful in worldly terms.

LIMITED TIME

My life and my talents came from God. My husband's generous help gave me art materials, and encouragement. And my first concern was doing God's Will, and He wanted me to give my ordinary duties first place in my life, for His sake, and my family's happiness; so I was quite content with the amount of work I was able to do, indeed, very grateful that I could fit in so much. But I learned from experience that the more time I gave to painting the lower the quality of our family meals, for example. I had to find a healthy balance, neither making a martyr of myself for the sake of domestic work, nor neglecting a deserving family so that I could have a bit more glory. Some people might have managed more painting than I did, but I had poor health, as I've had to say; and I could never refuse to nurse a sick parent. So my time was taken up in ways which other women have perhaps not needed to experience.

18. "Why it is that you began doing still-life paintings of flowers and fruit?"

NEVER-ENDING BEAUTY

I've done a lot of flower-painting because in everyday life I try to practise what I call the 'Art of the possible'. I do find joy in looking at flowers. I am still amazed when tulips emerge each year from a bare, muddy patch in the garden. They are like living sculptures in all sorts of textures, materials and colours. So I've painted flowers to capture their beauty - but also because they were available.

From my garden I used to collect the anemones I'd planted, and red-violet magnolia blooms - and I'd request honeysuckle from my neighbour in the bungalow next door. And there were roses behind the house, and many more blooms, with cherries hanging on the branch just near the washing line. So there was a never-ending supply of floral 'models'; and I learned a tremendous amount about flowers, and their funny ways. Some open widely almost a minute after they have taken up water from a vase, whereas others last for days, with very little movement of the petals. I painted these at the dining table, as I said earlier; and in those days it was easy to clear away a few paints, and move a vase of flowers, if it was time for a family meal or a homework session.

THE MALL GALLERIES

The other reason I stuck to flowers for a few years was that I'd learned how to value my time. I mean that I'd realised we cannot become proficient in every area of art, if we want to do really splendid work. We have to specialise. I was not so ambitious for fame as an artist that I was willing to ignore my family to achieve some sort of glory; but I did want to do well whatever I did most; and so I decided in the late 1970s to concentrate on flowers, to send work to a London art exhibition once a year, and to see whether I could reach a professional standard.

The result was that my water-colour still-lifes and flower-paintings were quite soon selected for hanging at the Mall Galleries, with the Royal Institute of Water-colours. Then when a Society of Botanical Artists was first formed in London, in the early 1980s, I was selected on the basis of my work to become a Founder-member. It was a great honour; and I showed work with the S.B.A. for several years, in London, and in Wells, Guildford, and other venues. I even won an art award, which was presented to me by the Mayor of Westminster, when our annual SBA Exhibitions had moved from the Mall Galleries to Westminster Central Hall.

19. "You also did landscapes and portraits. Did you enjoy doing these?"

STRESS AND STRAIN

The portraits I had done a little earlier, in the 1970s, brought me tremendous satisfaction - but only when I had finished them. I was thrilled to find that I could capture a likeness, by careful observation. But I found the interaction with a sitter distracting - with all the chat, and the provision of cups of coffee, and discussions about clothing, for example. And I loathed the actual process of painting portraits. It was nerve-racking, until I had the likeness, and had pleased the sitter to some degree, and could finally relax. It was wonderful when I finally decided to call a halt. I had been reluctant to refuse commissions at first, because the requests came from friends eager to have me 'capture' their loved ones. And, as I said, it was satisfying not just to produce such work, but also to have some cash that I had earned. Frankly, it was nice to be able to spend money without having to explain every purchase. Many housewives feel the same, no matter how generous their husbands might be. When life became busier, however, and when I had poor health, as well, it was easier to say 'No - I can't manage it', when next I was asked to pop round to a nearby street to draw a wriggling five-year-old.

DIFFICULT CONDITIONS

It was wonderful to paint landscapes, on the rare occasions when I could organise the children, guarantee transport, have a lovely scene before me, enjoy good health, and have a whole hour in which to produce something worthwhile. Those conditions came together so rarely, however, that I had to find a new way of doing landscapes; and by persistence, I succeeded.

The worst problem was lack of time in front of a scene. On holiday with the family I rarely had ten minutes alone, to concentrate. We toured a lot, and were always on the move. So I put aside my large water-colour pad, and carried a small sketch-book with me everywhere, so that I could record a number of brief, five-second glimpses from a car window or a café doorway, in a few scribbled lines of pencil or biro. These were saved up until I was home, when I made larger, coloured versions of the best of those scenes, from memory, prompted by my miniature sketch.

PRACTICAL DIFFICULTIES

I have dozens of these little water-colours. And I used them as a source of inspiration for doing even larger landscapes later on, when I went back to oils, and even undertook a bit of painting-knife work. But for the reasons given above - and because of poor health, which meant I couldn't march across fields to find a perfect spot, or carry loads of equipment around, I saw landscape painting just as one of my side-lines, but never as my main preoccupation. I enjoy doing landscapes. There is none of the stress in doing then that I associate with portrait painting. But I rarely do them nowadays, simply because I am so busy with my religious paintings.

I believe I was actually on the brink of a new way of landscape painting, with drastic simplification of forms, and brilliant colours. A few of my miniatures had a 'stained glass' look about them, in having those qualities. That is what I was aiming for when I did some large versions with a painting knife, as I'll describe further on. But when the religious paintings took priority the landscapes had to be left behind.

A LOCAL SCENE

Having just written that, I must now contradict myself. I've just surprised myself - in 2006 - by tackling a 'landscape' I've been unable to resist. It hardly qualifies for that title, as it's a view of a row of bushes by the side of the very road in which I live today. Every morning in June, each year, on my way to church for Mass, I pass a garden in which the fence-top is hidden beneath a weight of blossoms of astonishing colours, which make me praise God every day for them - especially as the central delight is blue. It is a tree with blue blossom so bright that it sets off the yellow forsythia on the left and the rose-red blossoms on the right, as if starting a pageant in celebration of summer. I could not go past it for yet another year, without making an effort. So I found half an hour for a sketch, last month, and half an hour for a little water-colour; and I now have a souvenir of one of my favourite 'landscapes', though I probably won't do another for a long time.

20. "When did you start to do commercial work?"

THE ROYAL ACADEMY

Although I had sold a number of paintings over the years, it was only after the Royal Academy Exhibition in 1984 that I really saw myself as a professional artist. It became necessary to have a fairly large correspondence, and to keep accounts. Then when I was asked to do greetings cards, and bookcovers, I had reps coming to the house for occasional meetings; and was glad I could make them welcome in my studio and not have to disturb the family at meal-times, for example.

That period of life did not last for very long however, by my own deliberate choice, as I'll explain further on. As I consider all the changes and different projects and surprises that I'll be describing in the next few pages, it's interesting for me to note that I can honestly say that I've never suffered a moment of 'empty nest' syndrome, as the children one by one went away to do further studies at university. We all remained very close; and they have returned here to live from time to time; so when I began the religious paintings and I felt obliged to explain their origin, the children were very interested and understanding - so much so, as I shall tell, that they eventually became involved in aspects of my work.

21. "What kind of pictures did you sell?"

GREETINGS CARDS

During the 1980s I sold a great number of flower paintings and still-lifes, and an occasional sketch of another subject: doves, or a scene in France, for example. I loaned the copyright of a few pictures, for limited periods, to some publishers, for Christmas and other greetings cards, and for a handful of book covers. It was flattering to see my work in print; but that turned out to be the aspect of art I least enjoyed, because of having to discuss fees and permissions, and technical problems. It is so much more pleasant for any artist to do what really makes the heart sing - and then, if someone likes that original work, to let it go, and to start another, knowing that you've given joy to an individual. I didn't want the 'glory' of having my pictures on hundreds of hotel walls, or on the shelves of thousands of newsagents. It was enough for me to be like a good carpenter who pleases a customer who likes the well-made table he sees in the carpenter's shop.

It did feel good to earn a little money of my own, though there was little profit, really, in that short time, when set against my expenses. Canvasses, oils, and good quality paper and water-colours are not cheap; and one decision I'd made earlier was that, if possible, I would not use shoddy materials. It seemed best to make work that would last; after all, I wouldn't spend a lot of time hand-sewing a dress if the fabric were going to fall apart a year or two later on.

22. "When did you first have a studio, and what was it like?"

A FIRST STUDIO

When my husband was more settled in his permanent job, he decided we could afford to convert our garage into an extra room, and to build a carport onto the other side of the house. So within a few months of his decision a new door led from our downstairs cloakroom to a rectangular, medium-sized room which we had agreed to share. He had the nearer end as his study, with worktops on which he could pile the notes he might need at a moment's notice. And I had the far end, next to the front window, with lots of light, for my paintings.

We were both content, though it was a bit cramped. We used to joke about the 'mid-line'. When I was involved in a big art project, my paraphernalia would creep towards his worktop; and when he was snowed under by paperwork, I would find my belongings pushed further into my half-studio; but it was all amicable; and I was grateful not to have to paint on the dining table.

ANOTHER HOUSE

My husband felt so settled in our town that he decided one day that we should move to an even nicer house; and so we went across town to a lovely road, closer to my local Catholic church that I'd already attended for years. But I was going to find other joys stemming from the move. My mother had been seriously ill, and came to live with us almost as soon as we had moved in; and since I had learned from experience that we each need to make our own 'space' in family life, if we are not to become gloomy about noise or lack of 'territory' for certain works, I plucked up courage and had a very tiny studio built.

All we did was to fill in a porch at the back of the house. I had blinds put in, and a radiator, and a table and chair. There was no room for much else; but I did dozens of water-colour paintings in that little space. Whenever domestic duties could halt for half-an-hour, I was able to do a water-colour wash or two, since my equipment hadn't had to be cleared away for a meal. And this lessened the risk of my feeling a bit martyred at being busy going up and down stairs to my sick mother, when I myself was unwell. I knew I had all sorts of blessings in my life, but I was glad I'd been pro-active at last, to make a bit of space for 'Art'.

A LARGER SPACE

Though I had never fulfilled my mother's dream of having a daughter at the Slade School of Art, I had been able, unexpectedly, to give her even greater joy, by having work chosen for the R.A.'s Summer Exhibition. She revelled in telling all her friends, as I mentioned earlier. And it was her delight in my artistic 'success', and the fact that several galleries then asked for my work, and my need for a larger space, that helped me in my next big decision.

Sad to say, my mother died later that year. But when we had sorted out my mother's belongings, I found that she had left me an amount of money which my husband generously doubled; and that's why I plucked up courage to have a little room built on to our breakfast room, and to furnish it as a proper studio for myself. My husband enjoyed chatting about my work to his friends. So this was a family project; and the children were interested in having a 'proper artist' for a Mum. They were teenagers, but I still preferred to paint mainly in their term-times, and tried never to 'shoo' anyone away.

SETTLING DOWN

Within a few years we had three armchairs in the studio, as well as my worktops, easel and equipment. It was and is a very cosy place for us to meet. It is far pleasanter than the living-room at the other end of the house. The studio has proved invaluable. It's a plain room, with a pitched roof, windows on one side, and a French window set in another wall. It has been thrilling to have somewhere of my own.

SEVERAL CANVASSES

Whenever I've planned to do a large series of oil paintings, however, as I have done four or five times in the last fifteen years, I've asked my husband if I can take over the dining-room for a few months, so I can work on ten or twelve canvasses at once. We usually eat in the kitchen; and we no longer have formal dinner-parties; so he has kindly agreed. I have been able to spread an old carpet across the dining room, to spare the pale carpet already there; and it's been a great advantage to have that much room in which to do a series of related images, and to be able to see several of them at once, as they develop. Of course, it's important in oils to let the paint dry before you put on another layer. So that's why, if I'm waiting, I like to start another picture, then another, until I have a few that I can work on all together. I have no trouble at all in focusing on what's in front of me, at a moment's notice. I don't seem to need to 'immerse' myself in a single image, in order to make decisions about its progress.

23. "What kind of different mediums did you work in, and why did you choose to work in certain ones more than others?"

DIFFERENT CHOICES

A housewife who decides to spend some of her time on a particular hobby or special interest has to learn what I've mentioned earlier: 'the Art of the Possible'; in other words, there are some parameters beyond which she cannot go - or does not wish to go - without neglecting her basic duties. So it was only after 'weighing' my ordinary duties, many years ago, that I made decisions about how long my painting sessions should last, and what sort of mediums I would use. And I've had to make changes and adjustments, of course, as the pattern of family life has changed.

Before I discuss the subject of materials, however, I need to say that the central idea in my life for nearly forty years, since I became a practising Christian, at twenty-one, and then a Catholic when I was twenty-five, has been to do God's Will, which includes - by my own free choice - pleasing my husband, and making my children happy, and caring for some relations. Painting could be 'fitted in', if I had time; but I was determined it would not lead to neglect of my duties. I've done a lot of home-cooking, which we have all enjoyed, and meals for visitors, and parties at home for my husband's work colleagues. We have had a hectic social life - and of course I have enjoyed some wonderful friendships, which have taken up some time. I have had correspondence and all sorts of other things to manage. So when I was too busy to cope with oils - which have to be used quite soon after they are squeezed out, or they become hard - I used to switch to water-colours. I tried pastels, and was riveted by the clear colours, and the swiftness with which I could cover a large area with a brilliant hue; but in a crowded house I wanted to make 'tamper-proof' artworks; and I knew that pastels would need immediate glazing, and very careful storage; so I gave up the idea of using them for any large body of work.

FULL-COLOUR WORK

It was always enjoyable to use a drawing pen or a pencil, on holiday, if I had a spare minute, or at concerts. I used to sit and draw the instrumentalists. I once sat in our High Street sketching for an hour when a troupe of Morris dancers performed outside a local pub. I have hundreds of sketches, from such occasions; but two things held me back from doing more. First, the fact that I needed to spend most of my time at home. The children were older, but I was very unwell for long periods of time, and could not walk very far, by this stage of my life, in my forties. Secondly, I have almost always felt disappointed when looking at a monochrome work, even my own.

I could appreciate my own skill, as I could appreciate the skill of other artists who worked in pen, pencil, or charcoal - which I tried - or woodcut; but I had an inner unspoken yearning to see colour in each illustration before me. In choosing a book to read, as a child, I consciously avoided those that had only black and white illustrations. And in adult life I had never been able to see the 'artistic value' of black and white 'Art' films. After all, real life is in colour.

A PREFERENCE FOR PAINT

It seems to me that some of my pencil sketches are amongst the best work I've ever done, precisely because I dashed them off, with a vigour and confidence that came from not thinking about composing a picture but just from reacting to a stimulus, with great concentration and speed. Nevertheless, I feel disappointed because they are not full-colour works. So it would not occur to me to make a great 'series' of sketches. I've used paint at every possible opportunity.

24. "Did you do any sculpture at this time, or any other kind of art?"

CARNIVAL FIGURES

As I reminisce about sculpture, I begin to see that marble-carving is not the only sort of 'real' sculpture I've done. I've come to see, in recent years, that many of the works I produced for the children and other people, for fun, were in fact sculptures.

The larger-than-life-size models I made for carnivals, Jazz dances and childrens' events would not have looked out of place in a modern art show; so I can say that, yes, I have made sculptures in chicken wire, and in papier-maché made from old newspapers and wall-paper paste, the mixture then being dried and carefully decorated. I also made wood frames on which to hang various fabrics, for special decorative figures for various occasions.

A BRONZE HEAD

I have done quite a lot of modelling in plasticine over the years, though it was not my main preoccupation. It was suggested to me by a local doctor that I could sculpt a head of Thomas Hodgkin, of Hodgkin's disease fame. The bust I made was eventually cast in bronze; and in the 1990's a copy of it was on display in a Radiotherapy Department in London.

A MODEL OF JERUSALEM

When my daughter was small, I modelled a head of a little girl in Plasticine - but not as a portrait, just as a tender glimpse of young girl-hood. And when I returned from my first visit to Israel, overwhelmed by the wonderful sights I'd seen, connected with Christ's life, I attempted a scale model of Jerusalem in ancient times. It took about a month to make - about fourteen inches square, on a wooden board; but none of us really knows what the city walls were like, in Jesus's lifetime. I hope I was right about the topography, however - the walls and valleys, and open spaces. It was certainly instructive for me, as I did the modelling, to learn even more about the various palaces and tombs and other features of the city in Biblical days. This too was modelled in Plasticine; but I have not yet thought about having it cast. And high on one of my shelves I have a Christ-figure I modelled a few years ago, at Christ's request, so that a crucifix can be made one day with that particular 'corpus'. But I cannot pursue too many art 'avenues' at once, and have no plans to do further modelling.

25. "At this time, was any of your art abstract, and did you do much religious artwork?"

ABSTRACT PAINTERS

As far as I remember, I've never produced any totally abstract art-work. For me, painting is about communicating what I see, know or feel about an idea, person, or object. So although I respect the intentions of certain well-known abstract painters, and even enjoy the calm colours of a Rothko, for example, and the bright areas of a Sandra Blow, I cannot really study a Gillian Ayres, for example, without wishing she'd made it all a bit clearer; and I've no desire to produce abstract work. For me, it goes against what I think art is 'for'. I feel towards it what I feel towards modern a-tonal music. I can see that it is 'clever' and interesting; and I respect the composers. But I don't like to listen to it. Music, for me, should be stirring, invigorating, or beautiful or deeply moving; and I am merely irritated by listening to the sounds made by dustbin lids and other 'found' objects, or to a composition that has no discernible melody.

RELIGIOUS ILLUSTRATIONS

In the years when I was busy with gallery work each summer, producing very detailed flower-paintings, occasional family portraits, and - for my own enjoyment - these miniature landscapes I've mentioned, I did almost no religious work. I produced only a few 'Madonna' pictures now and then, for Christmas cards; and I did this simply by painting 'every-woman' with a pleasant face and a veil. I did nothing that spoke of my search for and knowledge of God, though I did do a few illustrations to please an old friend.

STATIONS OF THE CROSS

It was in the 1980's, and someone requested a favour of me, which I could not refuse. I made no money from it, though I hope that the writer did, for his church. A Catholic priest whom I'd known for many years asked if I'd do some sketches of 'The Stations of the Cross', so that he could make a pamphlet for his parishioners, for Lenten meditations. These were drawings which pictured Christ in the week before His suffering and death - and in His Resurrection. Of course, I can't 'dream up' scenes, as I've said; so I asked my children to pose, with all sorts of drapery, as I took photos; and I juggled the figures to suggest groups of Apostles or Holy Women, and did a series of drawings. It was very pedestrian, but my friend was pleased with it; and when I produced some monochrome water-colours of the same scenes, at his request, the following year, I learned that Collins the publishers were willing to make a booklet of my illustrations, with the priest's written meditations.

I was glad to hear that it had helped his parishioners; but once again, I realised that I prefer not to work to commission, even though I want to be helpful. So I decided not to do any more illustrations, but to do only what really fascinated me. Life was hectic enough, without doing work that I thought was not particularly good, and not strictly necessary.

26. "In the late 1980's your style changed a lot, and you began doing more religious work. Can you tell me why this change came about?"

DECLINING STRENGTH

A great change came about in my painting, in the late 1980s, for a simple reason. I was ill and rather weak, and found it difficult to sit up for long. In total, it used to take me about eighteen hours to paint one of the detailed flower-paintings I'd produced for a few years. The quality of my work diminished, simple because of the physical demands of that sort of work. And since I could not offer anyone second-best, I deliberately decided to stop painting flowers and still-lifes and therefore to stop sending such work to exhibitions. But since the sharing of beauty with others, through paint, was important to me I also decided to try something new.

Remembering my old art-master's slogan - "Use a big brush!"- I hoped that if I returned to oil paints, using large brushes that could cover the canvas quickly, I wouldn't become so tired. Of course, I couldn't do flowers in that way. Some painters had managed to do so, but it didn't attract me; so I had to think of another subject for my experiment. My free time was still limited; so I was not prepared to spend my time on subjects which were simply frivolous or silly. That's why I thought carefully about what was most important in my life, besides God, and the family; and I hit upon the subject of prayer. Was it possible, I asked myself, just to 'put down' in oils what I knew of prayer?

THINKING ABOUT PRAYER

At that moment I was thinking solely of what those of us who pray describe as the 'light' and 'darkness' of prayer. I knew from experience that if we approach God in imageless adoration, in sorrow for sin, combined with gratitude for His love and for all His gifts, He leads us on a spiritual journey closer towards Himself. It is true that, in one sense, He is already close, holding everyone in existence; yet He is especially close to those in Whom He dwells by Baptism; and there are times when He is experienced almost as a light at the end of a tunnel of loneliness, in the soul. It was that light that I decided to paint, with large brushes, using yellows and dark blues, in what was, temporarily, an abstract painting.

I was thrilled with the result, which, as a completed painting, would become No. 2 on the 'Holy Sacrifice of the Mass' poster: "LORD, HAVE MERCY." It seemed to convey something of the awe I'd felt on being drawn closer to God. It hinted at the contrast between His holiness - shown as light - and the sad, oppressive darkness of the human condition, in which He works to transform us. Yet I knew that another person, seeing my picture, would need to have it explained, or it could be mistaken for a storm at sea, or anything else connected with light and darkness; and, as I said earlier, I believe paintings should not usually need long explanations. That's why I was not prepared to leave it abstract, but decided to put in a row of figures, just to show that this was about people hesitantly approaching the Source of all glory, which is to say, the Godhead.

As soon as I'd done that, I was content. The picture now spoke for itself; and so I decided to tackle a new aspect of prayer, by painting a figure bowing down in adoration before an unseen Being. That eventually became "GLORY BE TO GOD", in cool blues, with pale yellow light.

THE MASS PAINTINGS

I was so excited at producing a vivid image, and doing it so swiftly, that I decided to embark on a series of prayer-pictures, indeed, on a series about what Catholics know as The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.

At around that time, I made a short artistic 'detour' by using painting knives and oils, to produce a further version of the 'LORD HAVE MERCY' - and a semi-abstract river-bank scene, and two views of the Sea of Marmara, that I'd sketched on a family holiday in Turkey. I liked the results, but knew I could do more exciting work if I used brushes; so I went back to my new series, to concentrate on the Mass. This was purely for the joy of it. I had not a thought in my head about sales or book-covers. It was undertaken out of love for painting, love for God and for the Mass, and love for beauty in colour and line.

As I planned the next painting and pondered the whole matter of making religious images, I felt compelled to face up to a new development in my spiritual life which had been puzzling me, and which I had spoken about to no-one. I would still not speak about it, for a further five or six years; but I suddenly realised how peculiar it was, that on one level of my mind I was asking myself how to 'paint' prayer, while in my memory I now held dozens of images about God and prayer and the spiritual life: images that had sometimes been placed by God 'into' my soul as I had prayed, in the past few years, and which I had honestly tried to ignore.

RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCES

For those who read this, who are sceptical about religious experience, I have to say that it is part of the Catholic tradition that although we might be surprised by various experiences of God, we should be cautious about personal religious phenomena, and unusual prayer-experiences. That is why I had instinctively pushed these images aside, to concentrate on loving and adoring God. But I could not eject them from my memory. And now I saw that since I believed it was God Who had given me such simple yet wonderful images, and since I was a painter, it would be frankly silly not to record them - even if it was not yet appropriate to tell anyone. I had no wish to boast about a special inspiration for my pictures, although that was in fact the truth of it. So the new pictures I now decided to do were oil versions of what had already been given to me in prayer, at times when my thoughts were wholly on God, not on myself or my leisure time.

A COMPLETE SET

When I'd painted eighteen large oils in this series, I paused - then did two more to complete the set. They were colourful and impressionistic, rather like the large joyful images I'd done in powder-colour as a teenager; yet there was something more about them. I was awed, looking at the whole set. I had never dreamed I could produce work of such power and beauty - and I was grateful both for the powerful images I'd received from God, and for the opportunity to have made some of them 'concrete'. I had dozens more, all held in my memory, ready for when I had time to record them.

27. "Why did you stop your commercial work at a certain point?"

GOD-GIVEN PICTURES

At around that time my energy was flagging. I decided to call a halt to all commercial work. I no longer did greetings cards. And though I was persuaded to allow the 'LORD HAVE MERCY' to be used as a cover, on a religious book, I realised that I could not use the other pictures, the God-given pictures, for commercial gain. So I asked my accountant to wind up my little business. It was a relief no longer to have to keep accounts, or correspond with people about sales. Indeed, it was wonderful just to be free to paint what I genuinely thought was significant; and it was plain to me that my God-given images were tremendously important to encourage people in the Faith, even though I had only managed to put a few down, so far.

AT A SPECIAL STAGE

It might help some people who are interested in the paintings if I explain something about the time of life at which I received the images. I mean the precise time in my spiritual life, when I was in my early forties. It was a point of greater knowledge of my own nature and my own weaknesses yet, at the same moment, of greater awareness of God's goodness, mercy and generosity. I said earlier that the Lord had taught me for many years, in soundless, non-visual 'teachings', long before He began to give me images which He later told me were for sharing with other people. He later showed me, also, that He had not just chosen any passing artist, to 'zap' her with pictures for a few years, so that she could do a particular job then go back to her old way of prayer. The 'teachings' I had been receiving in a silent and extraordinary manner were a 'normal' part of the contemplative journey to which He had called me, and which I had undertaken, if reluctantly at times. Then I learned that the images He next gave me were also a 'normal' feature - but 'normal' for a further stage of the spiritual life: a stage which I did not reach until 1985, when Christ amazed me by an experience that, He later assured me, had been our 'spiritual Betrothal'.

A SPECIAL ROLE

On the 11th of December of that year, after I had made a new surrender to Christ, out of love for Him, when this meant enduring specific difficulties, I met Him in Person, in prayer, in a new way. I was utterly astonished by His radiance and kindness, by our intimacy, and by His gifts to me, and His words of comfort and reassurance. And I received a gift of joy from Him which was the fruit of our closer communion. It is a joy that has carried me through every trial since then, including some really horrible physical and spiritual experiences. Only when that new stage was well-established, in 1986, in a period that some classical authors of prayerbooks label a time of 'Illumination', did the Lord give me images in prayer. Then He began to explain, little by little, the special role He was inviting me to fulfil after a long spiritual training. And when I really understood what He was saying about His gifts, I understood what He meant when He also said that His gifts of teachings and images will continue all my life, for as long as I am able to pray, and to receive them, if God chooses.

This is the way of life I lead, daily, with Christ. It is one in which, after many years of trials and spiritual training in union with Christ and His Church, I find I have an on-going conversation with Christ, in which He chooses to give me daily encouragement, and also teachings to share with other people. In it, He gives me gifts to share with other people, at a time of special need in the Church's long history.

TIME FOR PRAYER

Christ has told me that other people have received 'teachings'. But those were mostly given in past times, when people prayed more. He has given me a great many, however, for especially-troubled times. He has said that He wants people today to grow in communion with Him, but even many Catholics need to give more time to prayer.

I cannot feel proud at having prayed a lot. I've only been able to do this, first, because I am very conscious of how much God does for all of us. After all, He is our Creator and Saviour; and it seems rude just to give Him bits of left-over time, on a whim. That's why I felt I must make a firm commitment to daily prayer, a commitment I've never broken, no matter what turmoil or messes I've created in my life. Secondly, I know I'm a weak person who needs God's help, if I am to change in the way He wishes. Thirdly, I've been ill a great deal, which, weirdly, has meant I've had more time for prayer than if I had been a healthy woman working an eighteen hour day; and my illness has even driven me to Christ more frequently, for help in my pain and misery. Fourthly, I've recognised that if I made anything at all in my life more important than Christ and the ordinary duties He expects His friends to fulfil, I would be putting up a barrier between Himself and myself. That is why I could not let painting become a private obsession that took me away from my duties instead of a wonderful occupation that I could enjoy whenever possible, or leave on one side until times were more auspicious.

And those times arrived, to my surprise. Then it became plain why Christ has given me so many teachings and images about prayer.

REAL FRIENDSHIP

He has shown me, many times, that unless we pray regularly we cannot come to know Him well. That is the simple truth, despite the 'glow' we might feel if we do a lot of active work for love of Him. Through prayer, we come to know Him in Person - if we approach Him with humility and reverence. If we look lightly upon our sins, and are not prepared to give them up, or if we show little reverence towards Him, Who is our God and Creator, and died for us, we shall be putting up barriers between Him and ourselves and proving that we do not put Him very high on our list of priorities.

28. "While you were doing the first of the 'prayer paintings', did you continue with your other artwork, such as flower painting and portraits, or landscapes?"

ONLY RELIGIOUS WORK

The prayer-paintings were so satisfying to do that I rarely painted flowers again, or portraits; and if I did so it was rarely up to my old standard of detailed work. Just as I'd decided not to exhibit at galleries all round the country, I now decided not to keep working in several mediums, but to stick to oils, and to do prayer-paintings for a while, and to see where that led me. Besides, there simply hasn't been time - though I've 'made' time for occasional posters, quick sketches, anniversary cards or miniatures as gifts.

I hardly ever read a novel; and I watch very few films nowadays, compared with earlier years, now that I know how important the work is, for encouraging people in the Faith. I'm aware that for every idle half-hour I pass, I could have done a couple more religious sketches from the backlog that has built up in recent illness. Though I try to make time for friends, and leisure, I'm always aware of the work still unfinished.

29. "Can you explain how Johannes von Itten's colour theory has influenced your painting?"

A NEW CONFIDENCE

In the late 1980's, around the time when I was producing the first Mass paintings, I undertook a determined study of colour theory, so that I would waste less time on what some call experiment and I call guess-work. My father taught me to 'look things up' if ever I found myself ignorant of one thing or another. So I took a train to London, and found what I wanted on the shelves of Foyles bookshop. I should have done it, years before; but I bought a book by Johannes von Itten on his own colour theory – which seems better to me than Goethe's theory, or someone else's. Von Itten's seemed the most coherent and easy-to-follow. And during several months, at home, that winter, I learned a lot about split complementaries, analogous tones, and simultaneous contrasts, and all sorts of fascinating aspects of the subject. It was almost like a conversion, or the experience of being able to speak in another language, suddenly to be able to see some reasoning and clarity in an aspect of art that had always seemed to give rise to puzzlement or confusion.

COLOUR HARMONY

When I began to use all sorts of rectangles and squares, superimposed upon a twelve-segment colour-wheel, I realised that there were sound reasons for my excitement on seeing one colour combination whilst feeling distaste for another combination. In discovering the logic of colour harmony and contrast - as a musician might learn musical theory - I was freed from the need to make endless unhappy guesses, about what to put where, in order to capture the mood or the experience I wanted to share. I made dozens of little colour charts, in accordance with von Itten's advice; and everything I did and learned contributed to the power of some of my later paintings, and left me full of gratitude for having uncovered such knowledge, so late in my life.

A NEW DISCOVERY

The only reason I came across Von Itten was because I went to the 'Art' section in a bookshop, and looked for a sub-section called 'Colour' - and found what I needed. That's what life is like sometimes. Something suddenly occurs that has never occurred before; and if you follow up that thought, and act upon it, you make a discovery that can change your life, or some aspect of it, for the better.

30. "How did your pictures change after you started to apply von Itten's colour theory?"

FEWER MISTAKES

Plainly, my pictures changed a lot. I no longer felt I should stick to 'safe' colour combinations, but was given courage to use all sorts of hues and tones that I'd never used before. Then I decided to prepare for each new oil painting by making a few full-colour water-colour notes on a single sheet of paper, so that I could choose the most appropriate colour theme for a particular subject, rather than launch straight into a huge oil, only to find I'd made a bad colour choice. I now have hundreds of these little colour notes and find them very useful.

31. "Was it difficult at first to find the best way of applying von Itten's colour theory to your work?"

MORE CREATIVITY

It was not difficult to make the transition from guesswork to more confident work in colour. I suppose it was like my attempts at cooking, when I was first married. I could throw a few ingredients together, for a few months, and produce meals, though not always nice ones. But once I bought a good recipe book, I was able to cook with a new confidence. Almost every meal was tasty; and the recipes did not chain me but liberated me. From their 'rules', I could move further on, and become truly creative, once I'd learned the principles of cookery. And so with painting; the colour theory freed me to be more confident and then to work out my own favourite colour combinations and theories.

32. "You were influenced by von Itten in knowing how to match certain colours to others, but how did you come to a decision about which whole colour schemes to use, i.e. why a painting may be generally green and blue rather than brown and orange?"

Von Itten's help was invaluable, in judging whether to make a particular painting an expression of harmony, or anguished contrasts. Yet the choices I made about colour were still my choices. If I decided on an utterly harmonious range of colours for a painting of the approach to Heaven, for example, I had no guidance from von Itten or anyone on whether to use six paled hues from one side of the colour chart, or three intense adjacent hues from another side.

I learned to place a number of colour sketches beside a monochrome image, to see what sort of 'mood' was represented in the picture, or encouraged by it. Then I would decide, for example, whether a 'Heaven' painting would be best expressed through several pastel hues, or bands of intense yellow, yellow-orange and orange - perhaps with a touch of pale blue somewhere, to make the yellow 'sing' more brightly. So these were decisions to make from start to finish of every painting, though the original image had arrived in my soul as a free gift from God, and then remained in my memory.

33. "Did your use of colour change much during the years you first started using von Itten's colour theory?"

COLOUR AND SUBJECT MATTER

As the years went by, I became braver in my use of colour. I experimented a bit more. I also went to a gallery whenever I saw an interesting exhibition advertised, perhaps two or three each year. So I kept on trying to improve my painting; but there have been no drastic changes. My artistic life has become divided into pre-von Itten and post-von Itten eras; and it seems almost a miracle to me that the post-Itten era should be the same as the religious-painting era. Colour and subject-matter have come together to surprise me in a way I would never have dreamed of.

34. "What different kind of mediums did you work in with these new religious pictures?"

A HESITANT BEGINNING

When I decided to record the images I'd been given in prayer, I was awe-struck by some of them, particularly by 'Christ the Bridge', and others, that were like nothing I had ever seen before. Yet they were beautiful, it seemed to me, in their simplicity and truth. I felt so unworthy to have such a gift that - still telling no-one - I plucked up courage to make, within a single week, pen and ink sketches of the first seventy-seven images, from memory; then I continued with such sketches as further images were given to me in the same manner. A few, as I said, I reproduced in full-colour oils - and I re-did the whole collection later on, in monochrome water-colour, as I'll describe in a moment.

35. "Why did you choose to do the first large-scale paintings in oil rather than another medium?"

A SWIFT AND EFFECTIVE MEDIUM

As I mentioned earlier, I first did my large religious pictures in oils in order to get away from the time-consuming detailed style of my flower-paintings. I wanted a style that was swifter, when I tired so easily, yet which was powerful and beautiful; and it's possible to convey a lot in just a few strokes of oil, if one has made wise decisions about composition and colour. I'd better say here, however, that although I've mentioned 'canvasses' throughout this interview, it was in about 1988, as I thought about large religious works, that I decided to paint on board. Boards would be easier to prime than canvas; and I hoped that they would serve just as well for the sort of images I had in mind.

36. "Did you do a colour chart first before doing the oil painting?"

AVOIDING GUESS-WORK

Filled with fervour for the subject matter, I occasionally rushed to do a painting without first working out an approximate colour theme; and it rarely went well. I would find myself stuck, wondering whether to add one colour or another, to a particular area; and unless you actually put the paint on the board, or hold up to the board a piece of paper with the exact colour on it, you can't be sure of the effect. So I became more disciplined, from sheer common-sense, as I regretted the waste of time whenever I made mistakes. Sometimes I had to scrub out a section of a half-finished oil painting; or I even had to discard a picture and start again, if I had ruined an area that should have remained pale, by using on it one of the pigments that tends to stain the white primer.

37. "What would you call your style in the first 'Mass' series of oil paintings?"

A VIGOROUS STYLE

If I have to label the style of my Mass Paintings, I'd call them Expressionist pictures: not quite Fauve, but more vigorous and colourful, perhaps, than the Impressionist style; however, I was not trying to invent a style. The style arose, of itself, from the brushwork and colour I needed to use to convey that sort of experience and imagery.

38. "Were the first 'Mass Paintings' exhibited anywhere?"

PICTURES FOR MEDITATION

The then Rector of the local Anglican church of St. Nicholas asked if I'd allow the first eighteen Mass Paintings to be placed around his church interior for a few days. I think this was in 1992. Then, at the suggestion of the Administrator of Westminster Cathedral the complete set of twenty 'Mass Paintings' was hung in a side chapel of Westminster Cathedral for the whole of Holy Week in 1993.

I've no qualms about exhibitions of art in a church if it's for meditation, not sales, and if the pictures will add to the atmosphere of prayerful reverence and not detract from it. The same set of pictures was then exhibited in the Bar Convent Museum, in York, for about a month. I gave a talk on them, using slides, to a seven-hundred-strong group of Eucharistic Ministers who had gathered at York University for a day of recollection; and the images were well-received, and seemed to be helpful.

39. "Have other occasions arisen, when you have spoken at length about your religious art?"

SHARING GOOD NEWS

It has been satisfying to be able to speak about my work on many occasions, and even more satisfying to be able to proceed from talk and discussion to prayer, in different venues, with people who have beliefs and priorities in life similar to my own. Meanwhile, it's comforting to know that most people can access a lot of paintings through our non-profit sales of cards and books, and through our Web-site.

SPEAKING ABOUT THE WORK

There have been other occasions on which I've discussed my work, when I've been invited to a meeting of Confirmation candidates and their parents, for example, in another parish. Or I've been to a womens' group at a different church, or a Catholic Social Club or a nursing home; or I've led a retreat at a Catholic Boarding School. Merely listing these different venues makes me realise how good God has been not just in giving me images to paint, but also in giving me the words with which to describe them - and I don't mean just the 'Teachings' which accompany them in my prayer. I am referring to the fact that when I first became a Catholic I knew what I believed, but I could hardly string two words together to explain my beliefs to other people; and I was hesitant to talk about myself because I had been told as a child that it was rude to do so - and vulgar to talk about one's feelings or one's health. This must have been one of the reasons why the Lord - Who knows everything, and knows everything that's going to happen - intervened, to give me practice in speaking about Him and about prayer.

A LITTLE PAMPHLET

Christ invited me, in about 1990, to write a little pamphlet about the visions He'd given me in prayer. He asked this of me when I was in church as usual, for daily Mass. He asked me to show the booklet to my Parish Priest, and then to offer it to people I met, to encourage them to persevere in prayer and in love for Him. I was horrified at the thought of doing such a thing in my own town, where I'd lived for nearly twenty years; but I wanted to be obedient; and so I did initiate lots of encounters and conversations - some embarrassing, others heartening; but as this 'mission-work' went on, I found myself becoming more and more fluent and fearless in speaking about Christ even to strangers. And all that stood me in good stead, later on, when it became necessary for me to speak even further afield about the images He'd given me about the spiritual life.

40. "How did you feel to be exhibiting work that was so different from that which you had exhibited before?"

KEEPING IN TOUCH

It was strange, but exhilarating, to be sharing these new pictures. It was only then that I began to realise that there is a great lack of religious images to do with the Mass. Perhaps that was why the Lord was giving me so many of them. Indeed, He soon explained to me, for the first time, in the early Nineties, that the numerous 'teachings' and images that He was giving me in prayer were a gift to be shared widely in the Church, to help people in their Faith; and He asked me to speak about these things yet again to my Parish Priest. It was Christ's wish that as I began a work meant to help Church members I would in fact be closely in touch with those in authority in the Church. It was only courteous, after all, to keep them informed, through my then Parish Priest (who is now deceased). So I did as the Lord asked; and I was made much more confident about recording what the Lord gave me, by the priest's affirmation that it was a gift from God.

SHARING MY JOY

It became thrilling to share the work, because it satisfied me on a number of levels. First, I like to share whatever gives me joy. Secondly, I've always tried to share my Catholic Faith, with people who are willing to hear about it. Thirdly, the colours thrilled me and made much of my earlier work seem very dull. Fourthly, these pictures seemed to touch people very deeply; fifthly, I was painting pictures about things that were at the very heart of my life. I could live without flowers and landscapes, if I had to, but I would hate to think that I would ever live without God and prayer. I had almost been in that state, years before, and never wanted to return to it. Finally, I began to see that for the first time I really felt that in my art, I was doing more than just using skills, or entertaining myself, or giving pleasure to other people. I felt that what I was doing was really important for other people. I had no clear understanding of where the painting was going, but I felt fulfilled in a new way, as well as in an artistic way, to a depth I'd never before known in connection with art.

41. "Did you think, then, that you would do many more religious paintings?"

TEACHINGS FIRST, THEN IMAGES

When I had first received 'teachings' in prayer, I was so astonished, and so ignorant of their significance, that I supposed they would stop one day. I supposed that when the Lord had taught me whatever truths He had wanted to remind me about with such tremendous clarity He might be silent again. But to my surprise, they went on and on, in what became a normal way of prayer. So when the Lord began speaking to me in Holy Communion, from 1985 onwards, and gave me not only 'teachings' but also images, I was sure that this was part of some sort of plan He had; and I lived from day to day without trying to push ahead and guess His intentions.

The main thing is that He is trustworthy, and His plans are always good, even if they involve difficulties; so I remembered the images; and when I had plucked up courage to record the first few dozen in pen and ink, I think I was aware that this would be a long-term project. Indeed, I received further images every week or every day; and at the right time the Lord began to reveal his plans to me, and asked me to consent to each new stage of the Work.

A CONSTANT SUPPLY

When I had dozens of religious water-colours as well as sketches I felt almost as though I'd grown wings, in my artistic life, since there was never any lack of things to paint; and I could do so with minimal effort - for the Lord Himself had made the decisions about perspective, composition, chiaroscuro, and 'mood'; and I was deeply moved not just by the images He gave me but by the truths of which they are a reminder, and by some of the extraordinary pictorial analogies through which He has made some of those truths clearer.

Within a year or two, I had hundreds of ink sketches, and a few dozen large oils. It was then that I made a firm decision that called for more work, but which would have significant effects for the future. I had realised that, if my health was good enough, I might be painting religious works for years to come; and so I needed to be better organised, for the sake of people who would want reassurance about the whole subject. I wanted to show more clearly than ever exactly what the Lord had shown me in prayer.

42. "Is that why you did a lot of monochrome, blue and white water-colours of religious artwork at this time? Can you tell me a bit about these?"

A STRICTLY-ACCURATE RECORD

Yes; I started the still-continuing series of monochrome, blue and white water-colours. I believe this will end only when I am too weak to hold a brush.

Let us look at the whole process in detail. Picture the first large, religious oil painting I did, from an image given to me by God in prayer. I had sketched the image in ink. I had made a vivid full-colour oil of it: I am writing about "THIS IS MY BODY", which shows a priest at an altar, offering Mass, as Christ hangs on the Cross beside him, and the grass grows near the priest's feet. The original image was about a 'window into time'. The Lord had shown me, by that image, what the Catholic Church has always taught, that at our solemn, prayerful commemoration of Christ's death and Resurrection, called the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, Christ's long-ago Sacrifice is miraculously re-presented before us. It is as though the veil of time parts; and we are in touch, in a mystical, 'sacramental' way, with what Christ has done, in His earthly life, to save us from the consequences of our sins. So I had received a powerful image, which I first recorded in a very simple manner. I had 'amplified' that image, by adding colour - which I had not seen in my vision. These visions are usually composed of distinct light and dark areas, of mixed glory and darkness, sometimes with outlines, and individual persons shown, or places; but there are no colours. But now I realised that unless I made a series of little paintings without full colour, to show exactly what the Lord had shown me in prayer, I risked misleading people about His gift.

MONOCHROME WATER-COLOURS

I knew that it was not wrong to adapt the images, and to add colour; but there must be no confusion between what He had chosen to give me, and the various ways in which I might utilise such images to more powerfully convey His message. It seemed to me that a small monochrome water-colour of every image, if numbered and captioned, would be an authentic record of my prayer-gifts. Then if anyone were to look at a coloured oil version, and wonder exactly what the Lord had originally shown me, I would be able to direct him to the water-colour collection, and know that I was being scrupulously accurate about conveying what I had seen in prayer.

43. "In the few years after you first painted the 'Mass' series, you painted many large oil paintings on a religious theme. Are they still linked with the blue water-colours; and why did you choose to do these particular pictures?"

A NEW SERIES OF OILS

The new series of large religious oil paintings which I produced each summer, in the mid-1990s, consisted of further 'amplifications' of what the Lord had already given me. By then, I had hundreds of monochrome images about all sorts of spiritual subjects, such as the Holy Trinity, Purgatory, Our Blessed Lady, sin and forgiveness, contemplative prayer, and much more. I remember being so bowled over by some of these gifts from the Lord that I decided to select the most exciting or important images, and do as many as I could in full colour, on large boards. My children were now adults, and I had more free time.

44. "How long did these oils take you to paint?"

A PHOTOGRAPHIC RECORD

Some simple images only took two or three hours to reproduce in oil. Others took a few days - with gaps for drying-time; and so I used to work on several at once, as I said earlier. I made a ring-back file, putting photocopies of one of my favourite monochrome religious pictures on the left side, and some possible colour notes on the right. And I simply worked my way through the file, for three or four long summers, in our dining room; each year I produced forty or fifty large works, which my elder son photographed. Then we circulated the photos freely to encourage people in their Faith; but I stopped painting oils each autumn, partly because the light was bad, but also because I was tired - and also because the Lord now asked me to write as well as paint.

Within a few more years I would have written and had printed, at His request, a spiritual autobiography, as well as several volumes of His 'teachings', and books such as 'How to pray', and 'the Mass through the Eyes of Christ.' Meanwhile, I did as many oils as I could, while I had the energy.

SATISFYING WORK

Now, I loved the process of painting, unlike the time when I was doing both oil and pencil portraits. Then, it was a dreadful experience, to inch towards a likeness whilst presenting an optimistic and cheerful outlook for the sitter. Now, I was thrilled by the subject matter; I gloried in the wonderful colours; and my heart 'sang' as I saw that I was at last producing a few of the sort of paintings I'd always yearned to paint without my actually knowing what they would consist of. They weren't all successful. But I learned a lot as I went along; and I had an inner conviction that all this work would prove to be worthwhile one day, for others, not just for my personal satisfaction.

45. "How many different layers of oil paint did you normally apply?"

SIMPLICITY AND PEACE

In describing my method of painting I feel I must explain that some aspects of the work were very easy to deal with. The oil paintings were fairly simple to complete because I was not composing something original. I already had an image - first, in prayer, and then on paper. I merely had to interpret it in oils. Other artists, I know, seem to wrestle with their subject matter, or change their minds half-way through about the perspective or the composition. So I was 'spared' all that sort of struggle. Another reason why things were so simple was that, with little art-school experience, I had never heard lectures on surface texture, or some of those other matters which preoccupy the reviewers in modern art magazines. I simply wanted to share an image, in colour, and felt I had no need to labour in a multitude of ways to make the surface look interesting or innovative.

I did what I deemed to be sufficiently effective, and moved on. This meant that I occasionally managed to paint 'alla prima' - with a single layer. More often, I applied two or three layers which were fairly thin and quick-drying. I was able to stack the pictures within a few weeks of completing them. None of them is varnished. I didn't think it necessary; and besides, I might have wanted to return to the picture to make a few alterations; and that's easy to do if there's no layer of varnish to get through.

46. "Did you always do a sketch before doing the oil painting?"

WORKING METHODS

I always had a sketch to work from, or rather, a photocopy of the monochrome water-colour which I had made soon after the initial pencil-sketch. There was rarely a time when I received an image in prayer, then went immediately to make a full-colour oil of it. It was important to make a sketch as soon as possible, so that I had a record, to go with the 'teaching' I'd been given in prayer at the same time. Then I'd want to do the usual monochrome water-colour, to give the most accurate-possible version for other people, so that they could know exactly what I had been shown. Besides, doing that water-colour version helped me to get the proportions right, and the perspective drawn as well as I could. So by the time I was ready to do a full-colour oil of that image, I only had to enlarge and use the image I already held in my hand.

47. "How did you transpose a small pencil sketch on a large canvas, before doing the oil painting?"

ENLARGING THE IMAGE

As I said, I made a collection of photocopies of the sketches I'd made of my favourite prayer-images, given by the Lord, and kept that file with me as I painted. I could transfer a simple image to a large board just by 'eye' and brush, without the need for special procedures. But if the image was complicated, I used to draw a grid on the photocopy, then use a brush full of semi-liquid oil paint and copy each square onto the large board, at about six or eight times the size of the original.

When I was more tired, and the usual artist's grid-system of enlarging images seemed unnecessarily tedious and time-consuming, I devised a system of my own. I used to take my photocopied image and enlarge it again on the photocopier, then enlarge the resultant copy - until it was the right size. Then I used tracing-down paper, to put the huge image on my board. I had no qualms about doing this, believing that it's the final painting that counts, not the process by which one arrives at it.

THE RIGHT INTENTION

I was always a 'purist' in water-colour, in the sense that if I sold a water-colour, the buyer could be certain that I had done a water-colour, and had not covered large parts of it with Chinese white. But how one arrived at enlargements seemed an irrelevance, to me, provided I used the image I had in my head, and presented it to others in oils with a new force and clarity. The use of pencil or carbon paper can make a mess of a pale oil painting, so I couldn't be heavy-handed about my process. But with enough guide-lines to reproduce the most complicated parts of an image - for example, some of my 'Holy Trinity' paintings - I could 'lose' a little grey in the oils without losing the freshness of the pigment.

48. "You seem to have painted light into many of these paintings. Why is this? Does the light represent something?"

THE LIGHT OF HEAVEN

There is a lot of light in these pictures. The Church and the Scriptures tell us that God lives in Heaven, in the unapproachable light of His holiness, and that Jesus Christ is the image of the unseen God, radiant with His glory; that is why I paint so much light. So the light represents holiness – whether in God, in Heaven, in the Saints, or in our souls. It is an amazing privilege to glimpse light in prayer, but I cannot pretend that it is a total surprise, nowadays. And in 'painting' prayer, or attempting to paint it, it has been impossible not to paint light.

49. "You also often paint fire in these paintings. Does this represent the same thing?"

THE FIRE OF HOLINESS

It is more and more clear that there's also a lot of fire in these images - and the Lord Himself has told me the reason. The first few hundred images were about hundreds of aspects of the spiritual life, and the soul's 'journey' to holiness. But more recently the Lord has been showing out, in images, more about His own nature. There is nothing new to be learned about Him, through my pictures. But He has put into pictures, to help His followers, glimpses of His holiness. It is like fire in its purity, its unchanging nature, and its power either to 'burn' or to purify those who enter it unprepared; and that is what I try to convey pictorially. It is also, as a spiritual flame, incomparable in its sweetness and brilliance, for those who have been purified, and who can one day 'bathe' in God's love, even on earth, in prayer - and later on in Heaven.

50. "Does the darkness in the paintings represent something?"

SHADOWS AND GLOOM

The darkness in the paintings usually represents a state of being earth-bound, or without God, or not fully purified, or even 'lost', and heading in the wrong direction. To be with God is to be enlightened, full of the fire of charity, and radiant with joy and love; whereas to be only half-hearted towards Him, and lukewarm, is to be in the shadows; and to be really alienated from God is to be cut off from His light, hidden in darkness, as if underground. It is to be cast by one's own choices into obscurity, sometimes 'seen' as the depths of the Abyss. These are all states which the Lord wants to convey to us through images, so that we will do all we can, with His help, to avoid sin and disaster, and to draw close to Him in His glory and bliss.

51. "Your prayer paintings seem to be more about some themes than others, why is this?"

THE LORD'S PLAN

If it seems that there is an over-emphasis on some aspects of the Catholic Faith, rather than on others, in the themes covered by these pictures, this is entirely the choice of the Lord, who teaches me. He knows what is needed today. He knows what His plans are, to remedy the current imbalance in the teaching of the Faith. He has told me that it is admirable that no Catholic child is in ignorance about the need to help our neighbour, especially the sick and needy. Yet it is lamentable, in His sight, that few children know about the marvel of His Real Presence in the Blessed Sacrament, or the horror of sin. He says that few Catholics are actively preparing for life in Heaven - which it is impossible for us to enter without love for God, and purification. So for these reasons, and others, there is a great emphasis on some themes and less emphasis on others. Yet no theme is entirely omitted. After all, the Lord intends this collection to be a Catechism in pictures.

52. "What are the other main themes in the prayer paintings?"

A CATECHISM IN PICTURES

There are so many themes explained and expressed in my paintings that it seems best to list several pages of subjects as an appendix at the end of this whole interview. Right now, I must repeat what the Lord has told me, that He has given me not a random selection of themes but an entire Catechism in pictures. He has done so in an age when few Catholics read religious books, when many of our churches have been stripped bare of imagery, and when many Catholics have received little instruction in the basic truths of the Catholic Faith. Anyone who has ever seen a Catechism will know that they consist of several sections, on God, the Church, prayer, and the moral life, and so on; and whoever looks through all of the images I've recorded will find something about every aspect of the Faith.

It shocks me to claim that; but it's the simple truth, as I look back at the hundreds of images I've been given in these past twenty years. And they are gifts. I do not hallucinate. The images are given when I am praying to God, not thinking or dreaming in pictures; and I never receive them when 'outside' prayer.

THE COMMUNION OF SAINTS

To return to the topic of 'themes', however, I've learned from the Lord in recent years that He intends to provide a reminder not just of facts about our religion, but also of the supernaturality of our Faith. He wants everyone to know what the Church has always taught, that our being 'children of God' means that we are in touch with the invisible: with God Himself, and with the Saints and Holy Angels. This is not in the manner in which mediums claim to be 'in touch' with the dead. By baptism we are united with other Christians in the Communion of Saints, through our union with Jesus Christ our God, Who holds everyone in existence.

These things can be forgotten, if the main emphasis in religious education is on the Church's social teaching, no matter how admirable, and on the campaign for justice in the world, for example. We are on our way to Heaven, if we respond to God's love; and Christ wants to remind us all, through these paintings, that He is alive, Heaven is real, and the Saints are waiting to greet us at the heart of God's three-fold glory.

FILLING A GAP

As I cast my mind back over the paintings, and see how colourful they are, and also how 'modern' in style - though I was not trying to be 'modern', as I painted - I can see something else significant about the whole collection. My work, and that of some other Catholic artists today, seems to fill a 'gap', in providing religious images for general use by Catholics and others, as well as for instruction. If we consider how frequently an image is required in everyday Church life, and think of the current sources, we can see that the Lord has lovingly provided a new source of images for Ordination and First Communion cards, for Mass Booklets, for Church banners, school posters and prayer-cards, for every circumstance and need.

We already have thousands of Catholic works of art to admire and reproduce. Yet we are perhaps over-familiar with early-Christian frescoes and mosaics. And although there are thousands of 'Old Masters' which can be used for religious items we can be so familiar with them that we are no longer so moved by them. People can become so used to well-known icons, too, that they no longer react so powerfully to them. Or the standard Italian images much in use since the nineteenth century seem rather sentimental to some modern eyes - though I myself find them very appealing. This seems to be just the right time for the introduction of some unfamiliar but modern and colourful artwork into the Catholic arena; and I believe that the Lord, Who is interested in every aspect of our lives, whether momentous or trivial, has intended that, as a part of His entirely wise and helpful plan.

53. "What do you say to people who suggest that images of God are forbidden by His Commandment?"

CHRIST, THE IMAGE OF GOD

It is true that God forbade the making of idols, long ago, which meant any carved, moulded or painted image that people might worship as a God. It is plainly impossible, anyway, for anyone on earth to create an image, in earthly materials, that can convey the glorious, transcendent, pure and holy nature of Almighty God. But something happened two thousand years ago to shed a new light on this topic. God the Father sent His Divine Son, Jesus Christ, to be born of the Blessed Virgin Mary and to live as true God and true man in our sinful world. So Jesus the God-man is, in His own Person, a living image of God. As Holy Scripture tells us, of Jesus: 'He reflects the glory of God and bears the very stamp of his nature, upholding the universe by his power.' Since the time of the early Church, therefore, Christians have used images for teaching and inspiration. God Himself has given us an image of Himself, in Jesus; and we can be inspired in our churches and homes if we have worthy images of Jesus Christ and the Saints and Angels as reminders of those who help us on our spiritual journey and whom we hope to meet in Heaven when our work on earth is done.

The reason why I now paint pictures of Christ is that I have seen Him 'in front of me' in prayer just as I have seen friends - and landscapes and flowers - 'in front of' me in everyday life, though in a different manner. And because Christ has asked me to paint what I have seen I obviously don't want to disobey Him; and I do believe what He has told me about the pictures helping other people.

THE HOLY TRINITY

I believe there is a tradition somewhere that artists ought not to paint pictures purporting to be of God the Father; but I don't believe it is forbidden by the Church; and so I have been willing to produce in paint the images that Christ has given me not just of Himself but also of the Father and the Holy Spirit: the Other Divine Persons sharing one life, in the unity of the Godhead. Of course, I do not imagine that these images really picture the Holy Trinity. They merely convey some knowledge about God's nature or attributes; and they can provide a focus for an individual's thoughts, in the meditation that can precede spontaneous prayer; but it hardly needs explaining that no mature Christian who looks at these would suppose that God the Father has a human face, and bare feet, or that the Holy Spirit wears a green robe, for example.

As I've explained, Christ is giving me a 'Catechism in pictures' for the sake of people in need of instruction who do not read books about their Catholic Faith; and it would be a strange picture Catechism if it contained images of every important subject except the most important of all: God Himself - even though my pictures seem rudimentary and even crude, if compared with what others might begin to imagine when they think about our all-holy Lord.

54. "In many of these paintings, you cannot see the details of the people's faces and features. Is this intentional so that the person in the painting can represent some kind of 'everyman' figure?"

'EVERYMAN'S' SPIRITUAL JOURNEY

The first four hundred paintings were very 'impressionistic', just because I recorded precisely what I had 'seen' in prayer; and I had not seen any faces clearly. If the Lord gave me a brief image of hundreds of Saints, or hundreds of people in a congregation, to illustrate a 'teaching', it was so swift that I didn't see any details such as facial features. And if I saw not a mere illustration in prayer, but a vision of Christ Himself, I could not see His face clearly because I was dazzled by His radiance, and by the glory streaming all around Him. I saw Him with the eyes of my soul, not my bodily eyes; but it was like seeing someone in a stream of sunlight.

UNSEEN-FACES

There's a particular reason why I also left the faces of Saints almost featureless, in my early religious oils, yet put in features later on. The Saints in glory were seen in my prayer as so dazzling that I could not actually see any features, so I left faces 'empty' on my canvasses. But after a while I realised that they looked merely inhuman, without a nose, and two eyes and a mouth. So I began to put in what I knew they had, even though I had been dazzled at the time. It now seemed more important to stop the Saints appearing inhuman in paint than to worry about whether I have exaggerated my vision.

A VISIT FROM OUR LADY

It has just occurred to me that there have been two exceptions to this way of seeing faces in prayer. They were a few years ago, so I've just remembered them. In 1990, I was honoured and awed to receive an unexpected visit from Our Lady; and it was made plain to me later that it was a very significant visit. It gave me courage to continue, just as my work for Christ was going to become public, and become more demanding. I have written an account of this visit in two books ('Falling in Love,' and 'What is Mary like?'); yet the important point I want to explain is that, for the first time, I saw our Blessed Lady clearly.

Christ had revealed His Mother to me on a handful of earlier occasions, in visions, in the usual glorious and detail-free manner. Yet now, she was with me in my room: again glorious and Heavenly - but at one point being revealed to me in close-up, by God's Will and kindness, so that I could see her features clearly, and enjoy looking for a while, with the eyes of my soul, at the very woman in whom Christ our God was conceived. I can't describe how amazed and delighted I was, though my thoughts were mostly about her kindness and my unworthiness to see her, and about the help I wanted to gain for myself and my family through her prayers. But the next day, I suddenly realised that it would be foolish not to sketch what I had seen. So I made six or seven drawings of different moments of our hour-long meeting. Then, two years later, I was reminiscing about how much her visit had helped me. She had told me, "Elizabeth, do not worry!" - about possible difficulties connected with my new task; and I had been tremendously helped; yet I suddenly realised that I had never done a painting of the beautiful face I had seen.

AN OIL PAINTING OF MARY

That very week, I began an oil portrait of Our Blessed Lady, from memory, the one now entitled 'Our Lady of Harpenden'. It is reproduced in some of my books, and on our Radiant Light Web-site. It is not as beautiful as she is; but it is a real likeness; and this was due, I believe, to the practice I'd had, all those years earlier, when I was painting oil portraits for friends and acquaintances.

The Lord eventually asked me to show the painting to my then Parish Priest, and to give him a message. The Lord asked me to explain about the significance of Our Lady for my own life, and for Harpenden. He also asked me to say how powerfully she can give help to distressed children, especially, and the sick, and souls in Purgatory, when we address our prayers to her using that title. I've written about all that elsewhere. What I want to add now, is that on one occasion, only, I've also had a very detailed vision of Our Blessed Lord, Mary's Divine son.

BY THE LADY CHAPEL

Year after year, since the 1980's, I have been privileged to see Christ in prayer, either in private visions at home, or in visions of Him in the sanctuary when I'm at Mass, or of Him with His Holy Mother as they stand together by the Lady Chapel, where I pray after Mass. I pray there just to be a bit less exposed, when people are busy in church with flowers or cleaning, not because I think Our Lady and her chapel are more important than Christ and the sanctuary and tabernacle - though they are very pleased when anyone pauses to pray by the Lady Chapel, regularly. And Christ is usually radiant with Heaven's glory, as is Our Lady, when she is with Him; and this is why I was very surprised one day in the 1990's, to have a special vision. I still saw Christ with the eyes of my soul, not by bodily sight; yet this time I saw Him as He was in His earthly life, in His joyful nature and His loveability, there before me.

CHRIST, JOYFUL AND HOLY

Christ was lively, joyful, smiling at me. He was wearing - for the first time, for me - rough woven garments, and a huge cloak flung round His shoulders. He was well-built, like any normal working man; and His long black curly hair tumbled round His shoulders. I believe He wanted to show me why people had loved to be near Him, because I myself was 'bowled over' by His lovely yet homely appearance. He was very strong and manly, but not overbearing, but rather, very gentle when He spoke to me; and I saw what I had previously known in an intellectual way: that Christ is an attractive and cheerful Person, Whom most people loved to see.

They followed Him around the lakeside in Galilee not just in the hope of being cured, or seeing miracles, but because He is one of those wonderful people that almost everyone loves, admires, and loves to be near. So it was from that time that I began to picture Christ in more detail in my paintings, now that I knew what He looks like. I still haven't done a full-colour painting of what I saw on that day; but some of my full-colour pictures of Christ in other situations give me a glimpse of what I once saw of Him in His cheerfulness, youth, purity and beauty.

To go back to the original question: perhaps I should add that there is another reason why there is little detail in many of the faces and figures. I have often received an image, in prayer, of myself climbing a ladder, for example - to illustrate an aspect of the spiritual journey; or I 'see' myself pictured as being 'carried' up to Heaven by Christ as I pray - as an illustration of the power of prayer. And I know that such images are for everyone. They are to illustrate spiritual laws and principles, not to provide a visual diary of my personal prayer life; so I have done such figures in a few simple lines, without trying to emphasise hairstyles or one sort of clothing. The Lord has produced, through me, a sort of 'everyman's journey', or a Pilgrim's Progress of modern times. So there has been no need for elaboration.

55. "What is the text that goes with each prayer painting?"

THE REAL MEANING

Each text consists of an excerpt from an original teaching, or a paraphrase of what I have learned from the Lord in prayer, at the time when He has given me that particular image. Every painting that we reproduce today, in 'Radiant Light', therefore has a long title, or a text, with it, as well as a number. Now we can be sure that whoever uses the paintings will not be misled about the subject matter. Some of the images seem quite strange, until the title is given, when a new light seems to dawn on some aspect of the spiritual life or the sacramental system, for example. Furthermore, it's the Lord Who wants to use these images to give instruction as well as joy; so it would be foolish not to help people to see that the figure in one picture is St. Anne, not Our Blessed Lady, and that another image is of Jesus in His earthly life, not of Abraham in the desert; or, to give other examples, there has been a picture given to me of a space-man clad in a cumbersome suit, with oxygen, which no-one would understand if the title did not indicate that just as astronauts must prepare for a journey on high, so Christians must prepare for 'ascension' to union with God in Heaven. And an image of a man being lowered on a rope into an old mineshaft to rescue someone stranded far below on a broken ladder is an illustration of the powerful help we bring to others by our intercessory prayers. Plainly, some titles are essential.

56. "Does every prayer-painting have a title?"

WIDER DISTRIBUTION

Every prayer-painting now has a title: that is, every picture has had, from its reception, in prayer, an accompanying 'teaching'. And once these are written in my notebooks, I have a text from which I can compose a title by which people will be helped to understand what I've painted. I have chosen a title for every painting so far scanned or photographed and stored on our Web-site, or in a digital file for future use; or my children have done so, from my notes, if I have been ill or busy. I paint further water-colours almost every day; so there's a little pile of newly-painted pictures not yet scanned, each with a temporary title scribbled on the side. The final title is fixed after discussion with my children. I'm the one who knows exactly what the image is meant to be about; but they sometimes help me to clarify my titles by suggesting a more up-to-date vocabulary, or a phrase that will strike chords in a greater number of people, now that we are involved in a much wider distribution of the images.

57. "Each of the prayer paintings has a number. What is this number?"

IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER

Some people looking at lists of my paintings will wonder why I've adopted a peculiar sort of numbering system; in fact, it's all very logical. You might recall an earlier paragraph when I was explaining how I put down all my initial prayer-images in ink on paper. It was then that I realised I should number them, and not only them, but also the 'teachings' given in prayer, to which they were the illustrations. I began writing in a small black notebook, listing all the 'teachings' that the Lord had given to me in prayer since that day He first taught me in 1956 when I was about fourteen - and when I had not realised Who was teaching me. I suppose that, on average, about two out of every seven 'teachings' has been illustrated.

Very few of those early 'teachings' were accompanied by an image. Many were what the Church would call, I believe, 'intellectual visions', which is a felt encounter in prayer with God or a Saint or Angel, but without any image. But today, I have notebooks full of 'teachings' which are numbered one by one as far as 7000 (in June this year, 2006); and I have files full of illustrations of about 2000 of those same 'teachings'; and each illustration bears the corresponding 'teaching' number.

A USEFUL NUMBERING SYSTEM

I am glad I started that system when I did. It's not perfect, and I've sometimes made mistakes. But if anyone were to question me today about two particular 'teachings', for example, I could say "This teaching was accompanied by no image. It's number is T:7060. This later teaching, T:7063, was accompanied by an illustration, which is therefore listed as W.C. (Water-colour) 7063. There is going to be a coloured water-colour of it too, which will be listed as CWC 7063; and if I make an oil painting of it, it will be listed as M (medium) OIL 7063." Whoever wants to find those various manuscript teachings, with typed versions too, and original sketches, water-colours and oils, will be able to do so.

The importance of the numbering system became much plainer, first, when the Lord told me much more about how widely the pictures would be spread, to help to renew the Church, and build up the faith of individuals. The second time was when my children generously decided to help with the work, which led to greater use of the Internet, and to the design and setting-up of our own Web-site. Through this, many Church members and agencies have been able to order and download pictures; and so we are fortunate to have a numbering system already in place.

58. "Why do some of the numbers of the paintings have 'a, b or c' after them?"

FORGETFULNESS

Some the paintings' numbers are followed by the letter 'a or b or c' - or even 'd, e', and so on. This occurs when a teaching which is labelled with an 'a or b' etc, is illustrated. The illustration necessarily bears the same code. Such teachings were either given to me as two parts of a huge teaching; or for another reason. From time to time, I forget to write down a 'teaching' immediately after my prayer, whether at home or in church. I have to date it and 'insert' it a few days later in my notebook. But since the teachings are written in chronological order, I 'find' another teaching given on the same day as the one I've forgotten, add an 'a' to it; and then I use its code number, and the letter 'b', for the now-remembered teaching that I'm putting in my notebook a little further on. When they are typed, they are typed in the correct dates; and I have done this so that I haven't messed up my whole numbering system.

The handful of other occasions on which a painting has a letter after it is when I have done several versions of the same image, in the same medium, and have not wanted to discard any of those versions, even though it might be quite plain that one version i