Filling the Creative Well: On Beauty, Time, and the Art We Choose to Live With
By Trish Mitchell, Fine Artist
I’m a fine artist living and working in the Cotswolds, having recently relocated from Cape Town in search of creative stillness and a slower rhythm of life. My days are spent painting the quiet poetry of flowers and light — moments that hold the beauty of stillness just before it dissolves. My work is rooted in the classical oil-painting tradition: the slow, deliberate process of layering colour and form until a sense of presence emerges. I think of my paintings as meditations — on beauty, on time, on the numinous quality that lingers in the everyday.
But even devotion needs replenishment. The creative life is an exchange — you pour yourself into the canvas, and then you must step back into the world to fill the well again.
A Morning at the Wallace Collection
Not long ago, I took myself to London with exactly that intention — to refill the creative well. The city felt alive with autumn light as I stepped into the hush of the Wallace Collection, one of my favourite sanctuaries. I went straight to the painting that has always held me spellbound: The Swing by Jean-Honoré Fragonard.
There she is — the young woman in rose-silk, her slipper flying mid-air, her lover hidden in the shadows below, her chaperone oblivious. Painted in 1767, the work was scandalous in its day: flirtatious, sensual, and daring in its implication. Yet what strikes me most is not the mischief but the mastery — the suspended motion, the shimmer of fabric, the dappled woodland light. Beauty, perfectly poised between innocence and desire.
Standing before it, I felt my own heart quieten. That’s what great art does: it draws us out of time. It reminds us that across centuries, artists have been trying to touch the same mystery — to capture what cannot be held.
The Artist’s Need for Replenishment
People often imagine that painting is serene, but the truth is that it can be depleting. You give so much of your inner world to the work that eventually you must seek renewal elsewhere — in gardens, in galleries, in the company of others who love beauty for its own sake.
For me, the act of looking is part of the practice. When I stand before Fragonard’s light or study the soft crackle of age on a vintage canvas, I feel re-connected to the lineage of makers before me. Their work becomes a quiet benediction: a reminder that art is a conversation that never ends.
A Kindred Spirit in Julia Collins
That same spirit of reverence for beauty is what first drew me to Julia Collins and her world at Collins & Green Art. When I was newly arrived in London and still finding my feet in the art world, a mutual acquaintance told me I had to meet her — “she’s the loveliest, loveliest person,” they said — and they were right. Julia invited me to an open evening she was hosting with Rupert Bevan, and I went along, a little nervous but instantly charmed by the warmth of the gathering and the quiet elegance of the art she had curated.
Later, she invited me to contribute a postcard to the WLAC Art Auction, and that night, over a glass of wine at the BBC Television Centre, we bonded — two art lovers caught up in the beauty and generosity of the evening.
Since then, I’ve admired not only Julia’s taste but her spirit. She curates vintage and second-hand art with such discernment. Every piece she chooses feels as though it carries its own history, a trace of the rooms it once lived in. Her collection reminds me that the art we live with doesn’t have to be new to feel alive; sometimes the quiet patina of age holds its own kind of luminosity. I’m now the proud owner of one of her pieces — a painting that hangs in my bedroom, bringing with it that same sense of warmth, character and charm that defines her entire collection.
The Conversation Between Old and New
When I bring vintage art into my own home, something alchemical happens. An old floral still life beside one of my contemporary pieces feels like two generations of artists in conversation. The slight fading of pigment, the hand-touched imperfections — they soften a room and deepen its story.
Art that has lived before carries warmth. You sense the passage of time in its surface, and that becomes part of its beauty. In a world obsessed with the new, vintage art teaches us to value endurance — to see that grace, like craftsmanship, only deepens with age.
Five Works from Collins & Green That Speak to Me
When Julia asked me to choose five pieces from her current collection that I’d love to live with, I gravitated instinctively toward works that echo my own love of intimacy, stillness, and light.
1. Blue Pencil Nude – £385
There is something exquisitely tender about this drawing — the figure modestly turned, rendered with a simplicity that feels almost sacred. The blue pencil lends it a cool restraint, yet the pose is full of warmth. I love how it captures vulnerability without sentimentality; it reminds me of the quiet power found in understatement.
2. White Roses – £1,350
I couldn’t resist this one. White roses have long been a personal symbol for me — purity, remembrance, and renewal. In this painting they spill from a vase in generous profusion, their petals textured and luminous. The background greens hum quietly, making the whites sing. It’s a painting that celebrates abundance, yet its brushwork holds restraint — an echo of how I strive to balance richness and stillness in my own floral compositions.
3. Floral with Pink Roses – £295
This small piece feels like a love letter to the fleeting nature of flowers. The pinks are delicate, the yellows soft, the surface gently aged. It carries that sense of nostalgia that only vintage florals can — as though it once brightened a room decades ago and still carries the memory of those who admired it. I would place it near a writing desk or reading corner, where its quiet romance could unfold slowly each day.
4. French Apple Botanical Illustrations – £299
I’ve always been drawn to botanical studies — that blend of science and sensitivity. These French apple prints are so elegantly composed, their symmetry and restraint a reminder that observation itself is an art form. I imagine them in a kitchen or garden room, a nod to the days when beauty and utility were not considered separate things.
5. French Kitchen Still Life – £455
There’s such quiet poetry in the everyday simplicity of this painting — a loaf of bread, a jug, a few eggs resting on crumpled paper. It feels like a moment of stillness in a French country kitchen, captured with tenderness and restraint. I love how the soft, chalky palette — muted ochres, blues, and creams — evokes a life of simple pleasures and honest beauty. It’s the kind of painting that grounds a room, reminding us that art doesn’t always have to astonish; sometimes it simply invites us to pause and be present.
Each of these works, in its own way, speaks to the same ideals that move me to paint: stillness, clarity, tenderness, and timeless grace. Together they create a dialogue — a small symphony of line, form, and feeling.
Why We Live With Art
Standing again before The Swing, I thought of all the artists, collectors, and dreamers who have loved beauty before us. Fragonard’s heroine, forever suspended mid-air, reminds me that art is always in motion — passed from one heart to another, one home to another.
Whether newly painted or lovingly preserved, art connects us. It anchors us in the present while linking us to the continuum of human feeling that stretches behind us. To live with art is to live with presence — to fill our spaces, and ourselves, with reminders of what makes life luminous.
For me, that’s what “filling the creative well” truly means. It’s not just about finding inspiration to paint again; it’s about remembering why beauty matters at all. It’s about gratitude — for artists like Fragonard, for curators like Julia Collins, and for every piece that keeps the conversation alive.
About the Author
Trish Mitchell is a British-based fine artist whose oil paintings explore the quiet poetry of light, form, and stillness. Her work, rooted in the classical realist tradition, celebrates beauty as a transformative force — a bridge between presence and the numinous. Her paintings and limited-edition prints are collected internationally.
You can discover more at www.trishmitchellfineartist.com or Instagram @trishmitchellfineartist
