#1401 theoldmortuary ponders

It is Fig time, I eat them and often paint them. Today I learnt a new empowering word. Foundress.

I am almost as thrilled with the word ‘foundress’ as I was when I discovered the word ‘mistresspiece’.

This all came about because I arranged a still life for a future painting. 6 figs on my favourite plate.

At the time I pondered if the irregular area , obvious on a cut fig was anything to do with a fig wasp.

The life cycle of a fig wasp is an interdependent, lifelong cycle spent entirely between the inside of a fig’s flowering structure (called a syconium) and flight to a new tree.

On entering the syconium a female wasp becomes-

The Foundress

Finding a tree: A fertilized female wasp (the foundress) flies to a receptive fig tree guided by its specific scent.Squeezing inside: She enters the syconium through a tiny, tight opening called the ostiole.Sacrificing her body: The opening is so narrow that she typically breaks off her wings and antennae while squeezing through.

Pollinating flowers: Once inside the hollow cavity, she brushes against the flowers and transfers pollen she carried from her birth fig.Laying eggs: She inserts her egg-laying tube (ovipositor) into the ovaries of the tiny flowers to lay her eggs.

The mother/ foundress fate: Her job finished, the original female wasp dies. Enzymes in the fig dissolve her body.

Larval growth: The eggs hatch into small larvae (grubs) after several days.Feeding inside galls: Each larva feeds on the surrounding plant tissue inside a protective swelling called a gall.

Wingless male wasps emerge from their galls first. The males mate with the female wasps while the females are still trapped inside their galls.The wingless males chew an escape tunnel through the wall of the fig for the females, then die inside the fruit without ever seeing the outside world.

Before leaving their birth fig the newly fertilized females pass by the male flowers and become covered in fresh pollen.Restarting the cycle: They fly out through the tunnel made by the males to locate a new flowering fig tree and repeat the cycle.

You may have to read this a couple of times.

No Fig wasp comes out of this alive, there are no happy endings.Lady wasps are held captive until they are fertilised. Gentlemen wasps die building an escape route that they will never use.

My love of figs as subjects for painting and eating figs seems cruelly nonchalant compared to the eternal circle of tragedy experienced by the fig wasps.Even the discovery of a new-to-me word seems pretty trivial with this tale of brief, tragic life and certain unpleasant death. From start to finish this has the feel of an epic drama.

Foundress, though, the word does sound rather fabulous. I sense it will never be the plot for a film or book

Six figs on my favourite plate.

P.S this is a trial blog, using new software

#1400 theoldmortuary ponders

Green Smoothie on a cafe table. Almost an Alien Seascape

It has been a busy week. So busy, I was unaware that theoldmortuary had pondered its way to #1400 blogs in the most recent iteration of blogs.

The Garden Painter started things off in South London.

Pandemic Pondering straddled the London/Cornwall years.

theoldmortuary ponders is Devon based.

The Garden Painter was a blog , exploring my immediate post-graduate of Fine-Art years as  a full time radiographer doing art in our South London back garden in the snippets of time available . The Garden painter blog was even more infrequent than the snippets of time. It has not been archived, or maybe I need to look harder. The blog covered a 10 year journey of exhibiting all over London and learning how arts organisations run.

Pandemic ponderings started on the first day after an Art exhibition I had helped to plan was cancelled due to the Covid outbreak

Pandemic Ponderings #1

#theoldmortuary ponders started on a blogging course on 10 th October 2021. For no particular reason, except that at some point, thank goodness the pandemic was going to run out of steam. So why not just jump to a new title on a random Saturday. Covid had the last laugh, I caught Covid for the third time during that weekend.

#1 theoldmortuary ponders.

In researching these two ‘first’ blogs I realised that at some point in July of this year I got my numbers wrong.

My blog numbers sequence dropped a 100 blogs.  This is irritating but not wholly unusual , I am quite disnumeric. It goes hand in hand with my synesthesia.

I really have to concentrate when numbers are involved. When required I can do maths to a reasonable level because I have had to learn to do so, but in a relaxed place my head is a little frightened of numbers. Blogging is certainly a relaxed place, my punctuation suffers , not as often as my numeracy, but it still suffers.

So there we are, #1400 when I thought I was on #1300.

There were just under 1,000 Pandemic ponderings. Even I can add up 1,400 and a 1,000 . There were not really many The Garden Painters so at a rough guess that is about 2,400 blogs over 16 years. That is a lot of pondering. Thanks for pondering along with me.

#1299 theoldmortuary ponders

Street Art Tweaked @theoldmortuary

Not a particularly arty day, 3 meetings. 1 veterinary, 1 arty, I tennis and 1 time sensitive proposal to submit before midnight tonight. On time for the vet, tennis and the  time sensitive proposal. Only actually late for the arty gathering. Of all of these things the proposal was hanging over my head and was certainly what caused so much creative procrastination this week. Form filling is not a favourite pastime but needs must.

Feeling mighty proud of beating the midnight deadline by six hours. I just hope the creativity keeps flowing now I have no reason to procrastinate.

The picture above is street art found in Plymouth featuring nine lighthouses.

I just stuck them together digitally and made the colours bleed a bit  . Of course what I should have been doing was filling in a form to be more than 6 hours away from a deadline that I have had for 3 months!

#1298 theoldmortuary ponders

Sometimes life and art collide in the most unexpected places but also in the most timely way. I have a few projects on a gentle simmer. At surface level they are all quite different. At a granular level they have many similarities.

The image above is made from 3 photographs taken in the same location at about 7 am this morning.

A  Sunrise
A rust stain on concrete
Some glass bricks at Tinside Pool

What inspired the header image was a beautiful stained glass window at a Thanksgiving service for the life of a friend.

Stained Glass by John Piper at St Andrews Church

Having this beautiful window to concentrate on was so comforting when words stopped flowing. Grief robs eloquence and quietly waiting for words to stream again was made a little more comfortable by having this previously unseen church window to explore with moist eyes.

Rolling forward to 6:30 this morning and my eyes were dryer, thank goodness, and darting about a 90 year old Lido. One of my simmering projects.

I love, love, love a glass brick and the crazy abstract patterns they create. Today I wanted more. These glass bricks face the south. What I wanted was the limpid sunrise to be seen through a glass brick.

Armed with some digital skills I popped outside to catch the sunrise. In catching the sunrise I found the rust stain on concrete. I stuck them all together and made a stained glass window which pretty much fulfills my mornings wish list.

Thanks to John Piper for the inspiration.

#1297 theoldmortuary ponders.

Art Explora Mobile Museum

It is not every day that a large lorry rocks up in our neighborhood and opens its doors as a mobile art exhibition.

Our life here is shaped by the sea, our day was shaped by the needs of a three year old with a limp. The two situations fitted together perfectly.

The exhibition was curated from the Government Art Collection.

My favourite piece was one that has to be seen to be believed . It doesn’t photograph easily. In my, not so humble opinion, my photograph is better than the one in the brochure.

Brochure.
My photo of Bengal Tiger Van by Chila Burman.

I love it because it is a composite image of a seaside ice cream van transposed onto an enlarged image of a ten pound note. Printed and then hand embellished with South Asian patterns created with glitter which is actually tiny,tiny Swarovski Crystal. Every time the door to the gallery opened and allowed sunshine in, the Crystal lit up in much the same way as inbuilt holograms do in actual £10 notes.

The absolute joy of this image is doubled or trebled because it is printed on my favourite named Somerset Velvet printing paper.

Oh to live in a world where I could roll around on Somerset Velvet and be embellished with Swarovski Crystal.

Meanwhile the 3 year old with a limp did the serious business of listening to an artist talking about their work on some head phones. Just as she did in a recent blog.

#1293 theoldmortuary ponders

A tale of two vans on a seafront.

More of this exhibition after another visit. But no prizes for guessing which piece of art I would choose to steal and hang in my own home…

#1296 theoldmortuary ponders.

I have recently decided not to rely solely on Exhibitions or Galleries to sell my art. Although those two things have not been exclusively where I sell art, they are in lots of ways the main focus of my attention and creative output. Time to dip my toes into a different way of selling prints and original work and creating designs for other people.

I knew having a year away from exhibiting would be strange after many years of participating in group shows. Stepping back always alters perspectives and if, and when, I decide to go back to such things. I will definitely be  doing things differently.

Doing things differently seems to be my arty philosophy of the week. For no particular reason I have started a watercolour on a massive full sized ( Imperial) sheet of paper. It has a fantasy botanical theme and is being done as research for a different painting. It will take a while…

No doubt both of these projects will take a great amount of real world pondering and those ponders will undoubtedly land here from time to time. Art can be a funny old pastime.

#1295 theoldmortuary ponders

After a summer of entertaining 3 granddaughters in arty pursuits it is time to put my studio in order.

I found a fabulous triple width pencil box in the bathroom. Previously it had held lovely beauty products.

Pencil cases are such a September thing. Never in a lifetime of September’s has there been quite such a useful pencil case.

Just organising it gave me the urge to get on with creativity rather than the procrastination of sorting out the studio. Not only Procrastination but this week I need to get an application for a commission submitted before anything truly arty happens.

For clarity the rather grubby tissue in the pencil box is actually a putty rubber.

An earlier blog mentions putty rubbers and my origin story with them.

https://theoldmortuary.design/2018/09/17/always-keep-your-putty-rubber-warm/

I’ve been buying them now for a little more than 50 years. Like many things I am not certain they are as good as they used to be…

#1294 theoldmortuary ponders.

What’s the bravest thing you’ve ever done when no one was watching?

I don’t  believe I have ever done anything remotely brave. Witnessed or not. Were I to contemplate bravery I think I would choose to do it with no one watching in case I failed or misread the situation and bravery was not required. I am also someone who immediately devalues something if I achieve it. So if I was both brave and successful. I would immediately recalibrate the situation  to one that required no courage at all.

5 years ago I would have considered swimming in the sea in England in December as the action of someone who was either brave or daft

After 5 years of doing it I know that cold sea swimming is a pretty daft hobby . Definitely on the lower end of the Brave/ Daft spectrum.

I know my place and am brave enough to say that daft is where I sit most comfortably.

#1293 theoldmortuary ponders

I like the idea of art that knocks you off your feet. Gillian Ayres

Early September is my time to catch up with Summer exhibitions. This year notably because heatwaves made me less inclined to do anything much. I very much like to be knocked off my feet by art.

Gillian Ayres is an artist whose work  explodes colour. Colour is absolutely my favourite thing about both art and life.

Due to a climbing frame injury, I had a three year old ,with a limp ,as my gallery escort.  She loved the sensation of huge canvases of bright colours.

We paint the essence of something. I don’t know how to be very clear about it in words. I suppose that is why I paint. Gillian Ayres

Me too, my work is more representational but the essence is always important and I have to be very careful not to be too wordy or literal in my thinking and vision for an image.

Visiting an exhibition with a three year old is like doing so after a couple of glasses of Fizz or some other perception enhancer. There is both giddiness and instant joy. The colours and scale of the works we looked at were both monumental and vivid.

Wise nana-ing limits actual art appreciation to about an hour. Another hour is spent creating our own mistress pieces in the hands-on gallery.

Then lunch in a nearby student cafe with more colour and texture than the ubercool sophisticated gallery cafe.

The gallery gift shop allowed a small person to see herself reflected in colour.

Drenched and submerged in all things colour my delightful guest asked to go back to the gallery. Music to an arty Nana’s ears.

This time she chose which exhibition to visit. She couldn’t have chosen better. I met an old favourite painting by George Shaw.

Meanwhile she studiously listened to the artist describing his work.

And together we chose the work we would most like to steal from the gallery.

I find the idea of theft from an art gallery is the most wonderful creative  thought process. When I used to work in an art gallery I used it as a conversation starter not only with children but also with grumpy old curmudgeons , who were being mean spirited about the art they were viewing. To be honest I use it on myself when art or anything visual is not to my taste. A little crime fantasy focuses the mind on positivity I find.

What did we do after all this colour drenching?

We pottered off to an allotment and found yet more colour. Just enough to fill a small hand.

#1292 theoldmortuary ponders

What’s something you do completely differently from how you were raised?

It has been welcome to have a fabulous British summer, but also slightly discombobulating. Normally I approach September with great optimism that we will get lovely sunny days in September whilst making all the normal September adjustments to shortening days, darker mornings and more bedding.

As a cold water swimmer I look forward to September being the warmest water temperatures in our small bay but we have had warmish water for two months already.

So I suppose what I am saying is that normally I view September as a compensatory month. Put in place to make up, when needed ,for a typical mixed weather summer. This year no compensation is required.

Late September is when I choose to take my holidays, some guaranteed sunshine before the cooler grip of autumn has me layering up and thinking of stews.

September has always seemed to me to be a month to be especially optimistic. For someone who was raised to be annoptomistic person that is a very comforting month to be in.

What is completely different this year is that I am utterly satiated by good weather vibes. We have lived through the warmest British summer since records began 200 years ago. I don’t need to be especially optimistic about September. Nothing was cancelled in Summer 2026 because the weather was inclement.

September can be whatever it wants to be. Its own changeable self with absolutely no responsibility to make up, in any way, for June, July or August.

For the first time I can actually acknowledge that September is the first month of Autumn.