What did we do on May Day? Quite a lot as it happens. In the evening we went to an Art Exhibition Private View, held in a Social Club.
The art was fabulous but the excess of laminated signs and instructions was almost an exhibition in itself.
Reproducing more than one would be snobby and judgemental. Which I can be. But this sign is a grand example of why a fool, a computer, a printer and a laminator should never be let loose on walls in public spaces.
What is even better is that if you read this sign using a mock West Country accent you could easily be mistaken for a local.
I always love going to these exhibitions more than once. But I know that on a second visit the laminated signs would be my primary focus. Shame on me.
I had an accidental art day yesterday. Starting with a surprise print sale. I was already a bit guilty that my creative output had dropped to zero for a month or so and I had to admit that and felt like I was slacking somewhat, while visiting other artists in their studios this week.
The unexpected sale of a print made me get out a watercolour doodle from early July.
Woman with drapes.
I worked onto it with a biro and an ink pencil with no great plans beyond doing some digital tweakery along the way. Maybe it is the slow approach of autumn but my woman with drapes emerged as a woman perching on a pumpkin.
The original drapes had been inspired by Cyril Power, a Modernist artist. Best known for his posters. His use of curves in straight places has always fascinated me.
Which took me to digital tweakery yesterday.
Two photographs superimposed.
Which then led to a full Cyril Power moment
My Cyril Power moment.
And that should really have been the end of it. But the pumpkin was unplanned, so I wondered if I could tweak a bit more and move my serene woman into somewhere with more serenity than a pumpkin patch. A bit more tweaking and by adding a still reflective pool, the original serenity and calm are restored. The pumpkin is gone.
And now when I visit other artists in their studios I can say I am working on a study of serenity. That makes me feel super serene , and I can still see Cyril Power in this image. Just calmer and less frenetic.
theoldmortuary took a trip to The Old Morgue yesterday to see the work of Drawn to the Valley artist Mary Toon as part of the Open Studios Event. The Old Morgue is just off Plymouths famous Union Street, which gives visitors the chance to see Urban Street Art, something that flourishes in this historic part of Plymouth.
Mary’s feltwork is always vivid and fascinating.
I bought one of her felted bead necklaces. I have no idea what was in her mind when she created this but for me it sums up the magic of the creativity that the Tamar Valley and the borderlands of Devon and Cornwall inspire. For me it is about the sheep of Dartmoor and the higher reaches of the valley and the pebbles beneath my feet on my local beach. Mary and I had a serendipitous meeting at Tranquilty Bay a few years ago. Mary along with other talented singers were performing Sea Songs on the beach. Calling to the Sea as the tide came in. The sounds drifted towards us as we did our evening dog walk. The whole experience was ‘other worldly’ as the sea wall hid them from view until the last minute. It was easy to imagine the Oceanids were, somewhat implausibly singing in Stonehouse. These woolly baubles will keep that lovely moment in mind.
Hard at times to imagine, but bustling, urban and sea-facing Plymouth is a vital part of Drawn to the Valley. Home to a large concentration of members, who meet regularly and support and galvanise one another to be experimental and collaborative in their work and their group exhibitions.
Mary has chosen a fascinating place to invite art lovers and visitors to. A brilliant choice of venue for Drawn to the Valley to show how diverse and fascinating members are.
Sunday 8th of June, the last day of a fantastic exhibition.
The joys of stewarding with a group of artists from Drawn to the Valley. ( Other art groups are equally rewarding)
I am a big fan of Stewarding. I learned to love it in some truly iconic galleries in London, Tate Modern, Dulwich Picture Gallery, Slade School of Fine Art (UCL) , Brixton East and some of the many galleries in Spitalfields and Brick Lane. All with South London Women Artists.
Returning to the West Country finds me exhibiting with Drawn to the Valley. Stewarding with either group has been rewarding and so informative. Artists are solitary creatures. We tinker away in our studios. Doing our thing,sometimes with a flow of creativity and other times a little stuck. Maybe lost in our own thoughts. Stewarding gives us all the chance to talk to one another and talk to the public who attend our exhibitions. Really some of the most rewarding conversations that can be had between relative strangers. At Cotehele we exhibited in a gallery space that was built in 1485. Yes the floorboards creaked a bit and the shadows and shafts of light were tricksy for viewing works of art behind glass, but 1485! Henry VII was King. We the chance to show our art and natter in a room that has been used for 540 years. The art is fabulous, the location equally so and then in just one day the whole thing will be dismantled. Catch it while you can.
With a gallery roof that looks like this and a sunbeam catching my glass of Prosecco.
The only possible colour to chase is Aqua, hard to define. Is it blue or is it green. Does it have to have a watery element or can it feel substantial?
I did not expect to create a painting today. I did not expect to go to a biker cafe. I did not expect to be writing this blog at 5pm. But beyond that the day has gone completely to plan. A regular meet up with other Plymouth based arty people for nattering, exhibition planning and festive high points.
Usually, I can easily paint and talk but Santa was not the most unusual man in the cafe. A gentleman approached to talk about my art for about 45 seconds and then talked about himself for the next minutes. Even my absolute dedication to getting paint on paper didn’t stem his flow of self-obsession. I was polite and responded appropriately while avidly painting away.
But my mind was a bit fried by the time he wandered off. Thank goodness for the impromptu arrival of a friend, we escaped to a nearby bikers cafe. No chance of self obsessed artists there.
And so to 26 Days to Boxing Day . L for learning . Actually the point of our arty gatherings. We sit together and do small tasks but we share tips and techniques. Artists are by inclination and practice solitary creatures. But our regular meetings over the past two and a half years has created such a strong and effective group of solitary beings. Sometimes 25 of us.
March 2022December 2024
And guess what? I was painting with the same colours at our first get together.
Live blogging/pondering from an art exhibition with a theme of turquoise, inspired by the plaque on Devonport Market Hall. So many artists love turquose this is not a difficult task.
But an artist, Anne Blackwell Fox , wearing turquoise,was in the building when I took this picture, entitled Emergence
Anne Blackwell-Fox
The last two turquoises are significantly different to one another, but they both feature missing triangular chunks. Perhaps the bigger significance is that they almost mark the top and bottom of the Drawn to the Valley geographical boundary
Too many to mention but sometimes the most influential teacher of the moment is the last person I spoke to. Always so much to learn from others. Particularly this week as I have curated a Print Exhibition in a Gallery Cafe.
Here it is, on the morning after the night before. Spic and span and ready for the coffee and art-loving public to flood in.
Last night was a hubub of bubbles, and artists/printers/art- lovers having ernest, fascinating and sometimes wildly inappropriate conversations.
What did I learn last night?
That if I just shortened my beads they would sit better. They do.
I’m not a naturally anxious person, so predicting anxious feelings is hard for me. Anxious is the soft and distant relative of anxiety which is an entirely different thing. Anxious moments are fleeting but give me a moment to check and reflect on whatever I am about to do. The anxious, anticipatory feeling of butterflies in my belly is one of the great ‘ tingles’ of life. One of the loveliest feelings is the realisation that anxiety was not needed. A sensation that is like seeing the prickles of a horse chestnut, but only experiencing the gorgeous brownness of the conker and the delicate softness of the conker’s bed. The experience, confidence and reliability of life makes the anxiousness quite unnecessary.
Yesterday I mentally berated myself and was a little anxious for forgetting to publicise a regular artist meet-up. One that I had helped to instigate in the post-lockdown period. I imagined sitting at a vast table all alone, like billy-no-mates. Just me and my paints for two hours. I needn’t have been anxious. We have been doing this for nearly two years, every second Thursday of the month. I needn’t have worried at all. As 10 o’clock approached artists started arriving, big bags of creative energy in their arms. The table filled up, three extra tables were needed and even with the extra tables, people were squeezed into almost non-existent gaps. Every surface was littered with creative paraphernalia and the cups and plates of artists needing nibbles.
The vast, industrial-sized space was filled with the noise of people sharing news and knowledge. Some people never even manage to unpack their projects because the talking and exchanging of ideas becomes the most important thing to do.
My little moment of anxiousness was quite unnecessary. As it usually is.
This is the very best sort of reading to start the day with, curiosity in book form. Since leaving the committee of Drawn to the Valley last year, I have had very little to do with the nuts and bolts of organizing the current programme of events. For local readers there are two more days to visit the Summer Exhibition in Tavistock.
This book is a joy to read and shows exactly how far Drawn to the Valley has come from those dark years of the Covid and post-Covid complexities of running a fairly large arts organisation in a geographically widespread location.
After 5 years as a member of the organisation these pages are now filled with the work of artists that I have met and shared creative journeys with. Many of them are my friends and teachers.
The page below shows how successful one of my projects has become.
Creative Tables has spread over the length and breadth of the Tamar Valley. Started to bring artists back together after the isolation of the Covid Lock-down in Plymouth. Creative Tables now operates monthly meetings in several different locations.
This book also shows how one life feeds into another as some of the people in the exhibition photographs are also bobbers and one artist has painted gig rowing the only team sport I have ever loved.
I was never quite so glam in my rowing days. Another curiosity for me is which piece of art will tempt me at Open studios. There are many walls in my house with work by Drawn to the Valley artists.
Curiosity is a superpower, it can take you to the most fabulous places even when sat in bed with a cup of tea and a fabulous brochure.
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