A rural poet in pigment
EARLY one morning, in her thirties, Mary Newcomb began to paint. With no training or warning, she was instantly an artist of intense conviction and originality; a rural poet in pigment.
She painted from 5am before tending to the animals—sheep, goats, cows and chickens—on a small Waveney Valley farm on the Suffolk/ Norfolk border, in between caring for two infant children. Her subjects loomed and zoomed all
