Choose the one which you think fits best. Press the letter A, B, C or D. Give one answer only to each question.
It was 5.30 on a damp October morning and I was hurling sable brushes, a large block of paper and watercolour paints into a large overnight bag. My equipment was still shrink-wrapped, saying a lot about the frequency with which I'd painted over the last few years. My destination was the Greek island of Simi, my mission: to join and report on the second week of Painting with Muriel, Muriel Owen's two-week watercolour course. I was stepping into the great unknown of painting holidays, and hoped not only that I'd survive, but that I'd flourish.
Eighteen hours later under cover of darkness, the hydrofoil bobbed and spluttered into Simi's harbour. The indistinct cluster of lights spotted from mid-sea turned out to be a glittering amphitheatre of houses stacked tier upon tier in the hillside. By day, those same houses would reveal themselves to be neo-classical villas in a thousand pastel shades. My own villa was a picture of neo-classical excess but even the most regal residences have their drawbacks. The mornings started noisily at 6am as the harbour banged and clattered and jabbered its way into life.
I soon learnt, however, to turn the early start to my advantage, slipping oft for a quiet swim before the day's painting began.
My first morning started shakily - the rude awakening, followed by meeting my painting partners, all of whom had already had a week's practice on the neighbouring island of Khalki. Our assignment was to find a suitable subject to paint around the boatyard. Where to start? I hadn't, like my colleagues, had the foresight to bring along a folding stool, so my choice of subject was governed (absurdly) by the position of nearby bits of driftwood. I decided to tackle one of the houses, and started to tug nervously at the plastic wrapping on my materials. An hour later and I was juggling a nightmare of perspective. My subject towered above me and no matter how hard I tried to translate the lines and proportions before me, it all looked distinctly improbable on paper.
A key feature of this holiday is that students are left to their own devices in the morning, while Muriel does a tutorial walkabout to sort out one-to-one any problems which might be hampering progress. The benefits of this approach are that those who lack confidence (e.g. me) can make mistakes in blissful solitude. At the same time, Muriel was never too far away to offer a helping hand and set us all back on track. That morning, my rampantly disorganised lines were set straight in a matter of minutes, not by whipping my sketchbook away and the liberal use of an eraser, but by a few well-chosen words, two of them being 'eye level'.
As my week progressed, so did the quality of my work, as I got my eye back into the subjects before me and started to effect some co-ordination with my hand. This was a promising development, as the final exhibition loomed high on the agenda, and my colleagues were beavering away, polishing off their half-finished works. Muriel makes sure that the show is properly organised and advertised each year. A fair amount of money changed hands that day, but the real value of the exhibition lies in the fact that it gives students a goal to aim for during their course, and an insight into preparing, displaying and marketing their work.