Laurence Forbin’s paintings, sketches, sculptures, are charged with a sensibility as finely primed as a hair trigger. Her response to form, colour,  texture, is visceral; her eye drawn to the unmanageable bulk as well as the beauty in land and seascape, the bruising impact of nature on her.

Her art nods significantly towards another area of her work, the theatre, where drama bursts out of the interplay of word and thought, of action and intent. In her work as a painter, natural forces crowd onto the stage in front of her and demand her attention. Rocks, wind-whipped sea, the voluptuous hollows and mounds of earth exert their presence and their elemental power, the buxom shapes of her terrain echoing the women she paints- full –bodied, dancing, tormented by desire, yearning, impatient for unbuttoned risk.

Forbin has spent much time, fruitful time, in the wild north of Scotland and in the western isles, up by the rim of light, where horizon stretches to nothingness of ocean and the landscape is shaped by fierce winds and gentle mists, sea frets and furious tides hacking at the shorelines, a bathing of colours from an earthen paintpot  swallowed up by the grim overcasts of iron grey and walled thunder when the storms roll in.

There are no people in these tempestuous studies of granite and green water; the environment Forbin has evoked does not need them. She has depicted a scenery too rough to accommodate genteel human presence. Only, she has dug her fingers into the earth, as it were, grabbed hold of the rocks forcibly, caught the spindrift off the beating waves and scattered the winds.

Paint not the thing itself but the effect it has on you. Forbin’s passion for the subject is here, vibrant, honest, striking.

Graeme Fife.

2003  Kent

Author, journalist,