At first sighting, a viewer might be forgiven for taking many of Greg Tothill's water-colours to be expertly coloured photographs, so realistically are they subjects portrayed in this show.

The collection is impressively eclectic in subject matter.  Primarily the frames contain, if not quite barnyard, the old free-range, close-to-homestead, everyday outdoor scenes of weathered-timbered, rusty iron-roofed sheds set in dry, grass-tufted paddocks fenced by sagging wires reaching between splintering, age-silvered posts.

Tothill's paintings say it all.  His poultry, ducks or roosters, delight the eye, as do their surrounds ... the long, early-morning shadows streaking sun-burnt stubble amongst which the birds forage, the feeling of space, a sense of fresh country air with its pleasantly musky smells of beasts, birds, bush.

Some of the landscapes have a distinctively 18th-19th century flavour ... dark, massed foliage reminiscent of Corot, and clarity and fidelity of river reflections.  Muted, subdued colours further kindle the impression of a softly-dusted vintage.

Leaving the riverscapes and pastoral scenes, there are Tothill's less appealing but equally masterly studies of the Pilbara, and of the Kennedy Ranges ... in enormous contrast to this versatile artist's quite exquisite, delicately executed rose studies, four blooms of different species treated with sensitivity and quite patently, with love.

To my eye, the sole weakness in the collection is the water-colour A Potty Collection, two shelves of assorted tea pots; the artist just misses out on getting the feel of fine china, or maybe they're porcelain, or perhaps pottery.  Unlike his other works, there's a certain deadness in the texture.  Sorry.

In all, one of the most rewarding (red sale spots in abundance!) and pleasure giving shows viewed in many months ... especially as I've over-nighted in that marvellous old shearing shed Quobba portrayed by Tothill so endearingly.