Wow, was this really three years ago?!

He liked a chat, old Reg.  I will miss him.


 Reg Driver age 88: My Neighbourhood Archivist, and POW 16988 (image below)

13/09/2007    9.09am

“I photographed Reg because I always say “Hello” to him, and wanted to get to know him more. He is a wealth of local knowledge, having lived in Chessington since 1919. He brings the past into light, and with his great love of life, is often seen cycling in the area.”


reginald driver of chessington

reginald driver of chessington photographed by jenny meehan


 Reg Driver age 88 –  A Portrait: Fresh Flowers (image below)



He brings the past into light, and has a great love of life. He is a neighbour who I often see, and to spend time in his house when taking these photographs was a privilege.


reginald driver of chessington surrey

reginald driver of chessington surrey photographed by jenny meehan



Reginald Driver

Published in the Your Local Guardian on 9 January 15

“Reginald Driver Of Chessington. Died peacefully on 4th January. Service at Kingston Crematorium on 19th January 12.20pm. Flowers or donations to The British Red Cross. Will be sadly missed by Family & Friends.”



Reginald Driver was part of the East Surrey Regiment during the Second World War.  When he was captured,  years spent as  POW 16988 Reginald Driver  then came to a horrific conclusion as he was one of many who had to endure what was called “The Death March”.

New Year Poem 2015


New Year 2015


Prevailing winds bring warm, moist, air to the western British Isles.

The New Year meets me, and suddenly, I feel afraid.

Seeing the blood soaked body of my will…

All determination shed

in recognition of those heavy, waves of past,

rolling forwards.  Though they once pulled me back…

I am grateful.  But not for the time.  For eternity.


Air is forced to rise over high areas.

The Sun pulls me up, Oh, radiant light line of yellow…

Laid on black death roadsides, in busy city squares,

brick upon brick. Edifices of achievement seem frail.

Uninviting.  I find myself looking for alleys.

Like a cat, whose meditations settle on ants, scattering

in search of a single, discarded, sweet.


Air cools and condenses.

The Moon puts me to bed, and sings a lullaby of long lost love.

Long, lost love, which I missed somehow.  In the arc of an eye

or the stroke of a brush across uninitiated canvas,

I bring notes of colour onto white dreamtime.

The ground of vision and poetry opens,

petal by petal.  I pray for the future.


Clouds form and it rains.

Into the river it rains, dark branches, stretching deep. Echoes

expansive thoughts.  We want the numinous.  The spirit of life.  The flow.

The marks engraved into rooted trunks.

Waters well from the base of the temple.

Not a single green leaf…Yet…But there will be.

Drop down, drop down, people.  Lie into the ground, and be covered.


Written New Year’s Day,  2015 Jenny Meehan (still may edit a little more, not quite sure, as yet.)



Nice Find:



Thinking around directions for this year…

I loved the series on TV recently…The Mekong River with Sue Perkins

and Sacred Rivers with Simon Reeve…  On the Ganges episode, I was particularly struck by the baptism in the river section, and also the burying of the dead…

It made me reflect on my own choice to be baptised (as a believer) when I was 18.   Now that is a long time ago!

Baptism can be understood in lots of different ways, and  has lots of different beliefs and ideas attached to it, depending on the religion/faith tradition, the particular denomination or movement,  and the individuals understanding and reasons for deciding to participate in the rite.

As water has been a constant and reoccurring symbol in  my visual art and poetry for some time, I am interested in pulling my focus into exploring the rite of baptism, and most specifically (given that the word is very wide in the senses in which it might be understood)…most specifically in relation to identification with Christ.   I have chosen this route because, quite simply, my own baptism was an event which I chose to take part in for that very reason… And I started a painting at the time, which I abandoned.

I stopped painting altogether.  I won’t go into the details, but it was a big loss.  Almost a loss of heart.  It’s nice to be in a place where I can look back again at the time, and pick up what I put down.    So we will see what happens.


As I began to research a little (this is of mixed value, sometimes too much information and stimulation results in overload!)  I did find this:

from The Temple (1633) , by George Herbert:

¶ H. Baptisme. (I)

AS he that sees a dark and shadie grove,
Stays not, but looks beyond it on the skie;
So when I view my sinnes, mine eyes remove
More backward still, and to that water flie,

Which is above the heav’ns, whose spring and vent
Is in my deare Redeemers pierced side.
O blessed streams! either ye do prevent
And stop our sinnes from growing thick and wide,

Or else give tears to drown them, as they grow.
In you Redemption measures all my time,
And spreads the plaister equall to the crime.
You taught the Book of Life my name, that so

What ever future sinnes should me miscall,
Your first acquaintance might discredit all. ”



Oh, God, isn’t that wonderful.  Really like that.  Love the language so much too.    Sinnes is so much better than sins!



Painting Ramble

Well there is a lack of painting right now, mostly due to the fact that the house is full of people and the Studio Tent is freezing. Freezing.  Indoors is not much better, as the heating has broken, and I am preparing myself for some major expense.  Ahhh!  I read a great deal about other painters approaches, thoughts and work on blogs such as “Painter’s Table”: 

It’s quite helpful, as apart from my fellow Kingston Artist’s Open Studios folk,  and a few longer term painters who I converse with, I have limited opportunity to discuss in depth ways of working, work, and motivations, thoughts, directions in painting.  I used to enjoy “Abstract Critical” quite a bit, but that no longer continues.  My Psychotherapist is a good person to discuss work with, and my Spiritual Mentor also, so I am grateful for them.  I have had some excellent conversations with artists I have met over the last year in particular, and the consensus has been that it we invest our time into focused discussions this brings a lot of creative energy and light into our work, our perceptions, and our creativity in general.  Reading, listening and talking do serve as fuel for the fire!  I need a fire, right now!

Love Bade Me Welcome…     (I think I have already posted this previously, but never mind..)

George Herbert. 1593–1632

Love  (first verse only)

LOVE bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lack’d anything.


love bade me welcome painting jenny meehan

love bade me welcome painting jenny meehan copyright Jenny Meehan DACS




And lastly, something quite old, but seems fresh.  Needed at this time of year.  Never got around to some collage in 2014, but hoping for some in 2015.


Living collage jenny meehan

Living collage jenny meehan copyright jenny meehan DACS

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