Frances Watson

I was born near Yoxford in what could be called Harry Becker country, and although my family left Suffolk for Surrey before I was five, I have many memories of the area. After the war very few people had any spare money, so we spent many holidays at my grandfather’s or with my uncle’s family in Yoxford and Darsham. One of the main attractions were grandad’s Suffolk horses – benign, placid creatures on whose rump  I would sit while they pulled wagon loads up to the  “top farm”. I also attempted to draw them, as well as the numerous other farm animals, and was always looking for wild flowers. My mother taught us all their names and the names of the different flora of the North Downs.

Although Harry Becker was unknown to me then, I was subsequently introduced to his work when we moved back after many years to Wenhaston. What I find most inspiring is his ability to see into  “the life of things” to quote Wordsworth, rather than just depicting the surface. I attempt to see the same.

Hen reed beds. Pen and wash
Hen reed beds. Pen and wash
Woodland. Watercolour.
Woodland. Watercolour.