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I see a lot of interesting people pass by my porch. Some of the Sri Lankan ladies who work in the homes around here, in their bright dresses, are so beautiful. Their choice of colour is worthy of a fashion channel. And they're passing me by while I'm thinking of my next landscape. And another thing Cyclone Gonu really woke me up, all the men in blue and orange on the roads, clearing up through the aftermath. They were the real heroes.

And this is how geologist-artist Steven Fryberger has started on people, at least for a change from his usual landscapes, which still remain his bread and butter. I didn't want to become narrow, become stale. The people thing is just the desire to do something that is a break from landscapes. I feel like my friends are passing by.

EVOLUTION
After September 2005

When we first featured Steven Fryberger it was September 2005. He had been exploring landscapes with watercolour, and had really been developing his style then. Steve was also pushing the limits of traditional watercolour painting with his evolution. This medium was originally a tool for serious oil painters who would make a quick watercolour impression of the scene, and go back to the studio to do it in oil. In recent years, though, watercolour has emerged more as a style than a medium. But this is more a reflection of the artists limitations than the material used. Watercolour has become what people expect it to be, complained Steve, visibly disturbed. Its now a shallow, superficial and dippy medium, full of cliches and cute gestural strokes. This is a corruption of what can be a decent medium.In his signature style this mix of tremendously serious work and hilariously dry humour he rebelled by painting pelicans at the Amsterdam zoo. It is done in watercolour, but otherwise ignores the most basic principles that the style is known for today. Instead of soft brush strokes that would merge over each other in frameable bliss, its forms are rude, the edges sharp. ÒItÕs quite impolite, downright rude. But I wanted to be in-your-face. Some people will look at this painting and go, Oh, pelicans and that's fine. If they like it because they're pelicans that's alright, but I'm after a lot more than that. This is a critique of the medium.

That medium might just be changing. Steve is thinking acrylics, texture, linseed oil. Why oils? Because I thought no one respects watercolours as much, any more. I love the colour of oils. You're building the texture in. The colour depth is better. The medium becomes more a part of the picture. Oils are more tools in my kit. Some I do matte, with less linseed oil, depending on the effect and subject. Sometimes choices involve sheer boredom. I've started thinking about painting people Ð folks in the clothes they play or work in.
I think you're always learning about visual language. Each time you learn a little bit more, your technique is forced to change, because you realise you can't get there from where you are. You might come across perspective and try to deal with it are you going to ignore it, crush it or work with it? And then you have to ask yourself, what am I trying to say? You might not be able to answer it with a sketch or a watercolour, and that's when you start to accumulate more tools in your bag.
Maybe Steve has dabbled in watercolours too much. Or the rock formations stopped getting challenging enough. Maybe he needed more depth. Or a change. Either way, Steve has responded with a series of three charmingly rough oils of men in orange
clearing up after the cyclone all on the backs of postcards. And another thing he bought an old Yamaha Virago, paid a swimming instructor to teach him to ride and now hunkers down on Friday mornings under a black helmet with a faint skull on the side.

POTTERING AROUND
The numbers are in Japanese
I wanted to ride a bike for years, this was an itch that wouldn'nt go away. My daughter Sarah used to be a biker, and she said, find a small used bike. We now think this is a 550cc, but I thought it was a 400 at first. The problem is, all the numbers are in Japanese!

My friend Caroline Hern and I put up RO200 each. It looks like a little Harley. Gilbert, who we bought it from, gives swimming lessons at the club. Gilbert used to be in the Indian Army, and he used to do stunts on their bikes there. He has ridden from Ruwi to Qurm for ten years on this bike, without a single mishap. So I figured I'd ask him to give us lessons.

The best place to learn was on a deserted stretch around the back alleys of Ras al Hamra, leading to a cemetery. Not very auspicious. My first bike ride was entirely in second gear. I reached the end of the road, switched the bike off, hauled it around, switched it back on and rode back in second! My first helmet was a hard hat, but IÕve got a proper one now.

When I first started I thought, I don't know if I was really born to be wild. Later, I got a cut-off Harley T-shirt, a baseball cap and a black helmet with a skull on it.