theoldmortuary has been a blog for about five years. It has evolved into an almost daily event. Pondering on the things that are inspired by my daily life. Often mundane, sometimes repetitive I swerve from hyperlocal activity to big and small thoughts without blinking an eye. I am an artist and writer. My hometown is Plymouth in South West England, part of me will always be connected to London and another part loves to travel.
English Summer Sunshine is a fabulous thing. When sunshine is as predictable and reliable as our current spell of good weather, even busy days slip by as is if smoothed by some sort of magical ingredient. My busy day was punctuated with a visit from my daughter and grandaughter. Will I ever get used to that casual remark ” We are just popping in” . After 4 years of being a virtual or zooming Nana to small people half a world away. Now I am a real hands on Nana to an 8 month old recently relocated from London. When Nona gets home from work now she sometimes gets a sticky welcome to accompany the first post work cup of tea. I’m sure we would both be charmed regardless of the weather but an hour in late afternoon sun with a small person is a great post work recovery mechanism.
Sunshine also smooths the sadder aspects of life. Yesterday Hannah heard that a colleague and mentor had died.
For her he was the reason she moved to London to become better at her job. For me he was a man I met at conferences and barbeques. He danced and laughed, at both, with great enthusiasm. Talking about him in evening sunshine over a bowl of mussels was a good way for us to mark his passing.
A very late blog with the working title of, the morning after the night before.
Nothing bad happened but long summer evenings segue into early summer mornings with barely a gap to natter. This bollard clearly had had quite the night. In two minutes the pedestrians passing by didn’t even notice his predicament.
South West Coastal Path walkers.Royal Marines heading for a PT session.
Mr Bollard was just chilling in the long grass.
Anyway enough of Mr Bollard, I was at a lovely summer party last night and then up at the crack of dawn to walk the dogs before going off to do some research in the most idyllic settings imaginable.
Life has eaten up my time today. The few minutes when I could have blogged I dead-headed our lavender bushes. Surely one of the most fragrant jobs on earth.
Normal service will resume tomorrow.
Ps. I have only just realised that the coastal path walkers were part of a celebratory walk for the 50th Anniversary of the South West Coastal Path being formed. Two teams walked the entire North and South Paths meeting at The Royal William Yard which is where the Headquarters are.
Summer months are often the busiest for artists. I am dedicating these long daylight hours to getting as much actual creating done as possible. But there are also a lot of exhibitions and these require a degree of organisation. The pandemic gave us Zoom which means not every meeting needs to be in person but yesterday despite the heat I was glad to have two meetings in opposite environments, 10 miles apart, in the Tamar Valley. The first one on Dartmoor was at The Garden House. A beautiful garden where I have enjoyed some tranquil drawing days.
No sketching for me, I was there for a scheduling meeting. It was very hot but I was thrilled to find some very wooly sheep hunkered down in the shade of a stone wall, taking life very easy as I left The Garden House ready for meeting number 2 in Plymouth.
In complete contrast to the rural location of the first meeting the second one was in a city with all the additional heat and bustle of a busy urban environment.
Cooling off came with the familiar sound of an ice cream van, parked up and ready to offer chilled relief in the sunshine.
Texture and context in life is everything. Yesterday was a good example of both. And now back to the brushes.
Car repairs can take you to the most interesting places. Regular readers of this blog will know that I like to hunt out Street Art. I am also a bit dismissive of the lack of good street art in Plymouth. But coffee and the car drew me to Sawrey Street in Millbay yesterday. With an hour or two to waste we fueled up on coffee and comestibles at YaYa’s
YaYa’s had appeared on an invoice for a gardening event I was helping to plan. As the committee sat around discussing the expenses there was an appreciative mumble of cake reminiscing. YaYa’s apparently make exceedingly good cakes.
From personal experience I can also say they make a great take out coffee for a street wander. Historically Sawrey Street was part of a network of streets that made up the notorious Plymouth red light district. Technology, regeneration and new residential blocks have changed things in this area which has a daytime economy of light industrial use. There are a lot of building sites and artists are encouraged to add Graffiti to the security hoardings that encircle emerging new hotels and apartment blocks.
What I had not realised is that notable British Street artists have been commissioned to place art in the small streets and alleys of Millbay.
The area still has echoes of notoriety and I probably wouldn’t poke around in these tiny back streets at night but that is often where the best Street Art exists. I am just amazed that I have never thought to look here before.
The curious thing about Street Art in Plymouth is that for the most part it stays pristine. Nobody over-sprays a tag or adds a sticker or a stencil of their own. Plymouth does not do Palimpsest Street Art. The worst that probably happens on these works is a drunken pee and they probably do witness whatever remains of the illicit night time economy in this once notorious area.
The picture at the top of the blog was created using an image of the cracked paint superimposed on my foot imprint left on my yoga mat.
Even the weeds created a lovely colour contrast.
And the cracks, as they always do, charmed me.
The day continued in tranquil mode when we went for a swim at Tranquility Bay. It was perhaps less than tranquil because two men had set up a barbeque on the steps leading into the sea and were having a two man Ibiza style party with a sound system. But our swim was fabulous. The following photographs show all the activity that happened in a one hour stay at Tranquility Bay
The Ibiza barbeque party took a turn towards the mellow when Pavane by Gabriele Faure replaced European House Music. Accompanied by the exact same dance that had accompanied the dance music. The scores of regular swimmers good- naturedly accepted the aural and visual embellishments to their regular swimming zone. Both created a memorable afternoon of unplanned entertainment.
Making an impression, or indeed, the farting yogi!
Sunday morning found me in a park with about 100 other people doing outdoor yoga with an organisation called Park Yoga, a partner organisation of Park Run. Park Run fills parks all over the country with runners on Sunday mornings, doing sweaty intense laps to various standards. Park Yoga is about being stationary, and today sweaty, to various standards.
Outdoor yoga in fabulous weather is quite the thing no need to visualise warm sun on my face. Imagining my foot sinking into the ground was beautifully illustrated by my yoga mat.
I may have overdone the inversion poses and maybe had a little incidental wind issue. Thank goodness for being out in the open air. The ripple of giggles around me the only sign that anything untoward had happened.Inversion poses also flipped familiar jewellery constantly in my face. I so rarely actually see it.
Yoga is good for mind and body and doing it outdoors really does enhance the experience. My summer Sunday mornings sorted.
A proper summer evening in Stonehouse last night. Art, music, soft summer rain and petrichor.
Stonehouse is a city neighbourhood by the sea. The area has been bathed in hot, constant ,early summer sunshine for weeks. Which is why the soft summer rain of last night added to the experience of art and music as the evening took in an art exhibition and live music at opposite ends of Stonehouse, as we did the evening dog walk. Petrichor, subtle but there never the less was the gentle fragrance of the evening. First stop Leadworks in Rendle Street to visit an art exhibition raising money for ShelterBox.
ShelterBox exists to ensure no one is without shelter after disaster. We often work in places that others don’t, making sure that we reach families who need support to take the next step in resuming their livelihoods.
With a brilliant piece of placement the first picture to greet visitors was a painting by Rosie Cunningham. Unintentionally, the whole summer exhibition experience was revealed.
Detail from Big Bird is Watching by Rosie Cunningham.
In the summer months artists and artistically minded people gather in halls, spaces and museums all over England to view summer exhibitions. The artistically minded wear carefully curated summer clothes, maybe a little quirky, women have statement necklaces or hand bags. Men, bold shirts or interesting glasses. In order to stand out from the quirky crowd,the actual artists dial up the sartorial code to Full Flamingo. Quirky for certain but with something extra, dungarees perhaps or a battered satchel. Private Views or one off events like last night are the best place to see this colourful phenomenon.
The dogs are well used to this sort of event having sniffed their way around the galleries and art spaces of London when they were younger. Lola though felt particularly welcome last night, in Stonehouse, with bespoke graffiti.
Soon enough we were off to the far south of the Stonehouse Peninsular for live music at the Arch in the Royal William Yard.
Another summer uniform, shorts, skirts, t-shirts and flip flops to listen to fabulous music in a beautiful spot. Which brings us back to the gorgeous portrait of Van Morrison by Jo Beer at the top of the picture.
This blog will be a bit about bobbing, but not,I hope, too boringly repetitive. The old mortuary ponders USP is essentially about the repetitive nature of every day life, so there is a reason for boring you all sometime.
The point of the above picture is the laugh out loud moment I had when this photo was shared to my Google Phone. So laugh out loud that it took some time for me to compose myself to explain to the bobbers.
On receiving the photo, my phone, using all of its considerable AI asked me if I would like it to remove the people from the image. The idea that bobbers could be so disposable just cracked me up. Just to be contrary I cropped the marina out of the picture.
Today, because of the East wind we changed location again to the steps at the end of Pound Street just off Cremyl Street. It turns out that this location was incredibly sociable and we met a lovely woman from the Rhederlaagse Meren Dippers who offered us a dipping/bobbing holiday based at their beautiful lake north of Amsterdam.
East wind and a high tide can make swimming a little like spending time in a washing machine, at our normal beach. So Today I, once again, chose the secluded steps access to the sea, where there is a little shelter from an easterly wind. This time without interrupting a mourning family. See below ⬇️
Wind was on my mind because, after swimming, I had two consecutive sessions of painting with two different groups. And I needed to finish a painting that features abstract shapes that represent the wind and Smeatons Tower, our local landmark Lighthouse.
To say I have become obsessed with painting the wind since living on a peninsular would be an understatement. I have even thought about getting a home weather station.
Now to excuse myself for a late blog. A timely blog would have happened between the first dog walking image and the second swimming image, but I met three different people I knew on the dog walk and, quite frankly talked too much.
1, Sweet Peas and their placement in a south facing garden with a neighbour.
2, A local anniversary fete with someone I only know by sight.
3, A road accident with a friend I haven’t seen since March.
Blogging time blown out of the water. I had a very quick turnaround to meet my swimming companion. Then we were both off to the same art group where talking and creating is the point of the whole thing. Networking would be the word. Very good for artists who largely work in isolation. We planned our next group exhibition.
Then off to meet the next group, predominantly crafters, at a cafe. It turns out I was at the wrong cafe but I met a friend who I had not seen for a few weeks and we caught up on a project that we had both been working on for a Tennis Club. Half an hour later, no crafters at the cafe and I Whatsapped them to see if the gathering had been cancelled.
I was in the wrong place!
Finally I reached the place where talking was always the plan. For once I was fairly quiet, but I did finish the wind painting.
When I was a small person someone who talked too much was given the derogatory title of a ‘right’or ‘old’ windbag.
On reflection I have definitely been that person today. Caught somewhere between being old, juvenile or pompous.
Or worse!
My father used a much less palatable description of the over-talkative and called chatty people ‘verbally incontinent’. He was himself a skilled listener and rather a wise bean.
How do you use windbag in a sentence?
She was a bit of a windbag, but chatterbox would be a kinder term, she did paint a good wind while she nattered.
Altered photograph of the bar at the VOT where I ended up. Looks a bit windy to me.
Science steps in to gently rub salve into my busy mind.
A visit to Bangkok’s Museum of Modern Art definitely blew my Contemporary art thoughts last month.
I really struggled with my own ignorance of Buddhist and Hindu culture. The first two floors, that I chose to visit, presented art created in the last twenty years but absolutely the subject matter were traditional tales, largely presented in 2d and rendered in styles that are centuries old. I was completely exhausted by hyper-real women with perfectly formed bodies perkily posing, predominantly for the male gaze but pretending to be a classic image telling a traditional story in a contemporary way. In short I was exhausted by perky breasts and buttocks and uncomfortable with images of prepubescent girls depicted with their clothes absentmindedly slipping from their bodies.
My apologies for this being a repeat sentiment of a previous blog. But since the last blog two second-hand books have arrived in my house. Short introductions to Buddhism and Hinduism.
I am making a start with Buddhism.
And in particular with Satan’s Daughters. 10 in number, and the subject of a painting that I really enjoyed trying to understand in Bangkok.
Satan’s Daughter(s)? by Surathin Tatana
Louis Pasteur clarified beautifully the artistic journey that I am on currently. Science is a wonderful thing.
Being surprised by something is the mind’s first step towards discovery. Louis Pasteur
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