According to my Pinterest boards I’ve been aware of Gerhard Richter and his work for some years, but it was only seeing this picture

a few days ago that led me to see how important he/it is to me. It reminds me of the slightly grubby net curtained windows of my childhood. There’s a holiday cottage feel; is that a garden of salt wind battered shrubs veiled by the nylon? I can see a shingle beach, cut knees, a much worn hand-knitted sweater of dubious origin, a burger van run by a grumpy man too fat to stand on his feet all day. As you can imagine I was instantly smitten, and went straight to his website to find out as much as I could about Richter. I’ve barely stopped looking since. And I found this:

which I assumed was a photograph (until put right by the caption). It’s like the love child of an Antonio Lopez Garcia painting, and a Josef Sudek photograph, and I find myself quite hypnotised by it. Add

and you’ll begin to see a pattern, if not to Richter’s work than in my choices. He does with oil paint what I want to be able to do with a camera. Or, for that matter, fiction and poetry. I’m not quite sure what that is, but I know it’s something to do with domesticity; perspective (seeing, not seeing); memory, and fragility. And that’s all I can say for now, but here are another couple, just for your delight: