As I was about to write this blog I had a call from friends in Australia. So much fun and laughter in a phone call. They were driving home from an author talk at The Hellenic Cultural Museum.
We had been out last night listening to an author talk too.
What is the glue of a friendship that has at its roots two awkward 11 year olds meeting under an Oak tree in an Essex village 55 years ago. And which is currently 4 people who love to holiday together despite living half a world apart and on opposite time zones. Coffee, silliness, that can be tracked to those awkward 11 year olds. A love of Greece and life in general. The seas around us in those 55 years have been rough at times, but calmer waters and laughter is the balm of an old/refurbished, friendship.
Maybe Fishing in Tranquility Bay is the glue. Just happy to share whatever loveliness we pull out of the great sea of life. That we can share and laugh about over a real world cup of coffee or a group call at opposite ends of our day.
I always thought this failed attempt at a colour wheel looked a little like a Phoenix from the side .
Combining her with a pigment tray from the near the Vatican and some printing experiments has been interesting.
I think I like her best as a dark disco creature.
The reason for all this artistic time wasting, is that for once I am as prepped as I can be for the next art exhibition. The original works are ready and framed. I have done my experimental print run, and am now just waiting for the real print run to be done. The mounts and envelopes are in the studio. Everything is poised for the next flurry of activity, but creatively I am at an impasse. So footling about with some odds and ends was quite cathartic. I might even have rinsed JMW Turner out of my head.
This morning I scrolled past the question above. Posed by my blog hosts. I am not by nature a collector of anything, but maybe my stock of watercolours could possibly be considered a collection.
About 50% of my watercolours.
One of the reasons I believe these paints might be considered a collection are the lengths I go to to acquire new colours.
In Athens last September we took a long walk to an untouristy suburb to find an art shop that hand made oil pastels. Now I don’t use oil pastels but being able to visit someone who creates art materials in a centuries-old traditional and artisinal way was too enticing to be missed. He also sold very lovely Greek manufactured water-colours. I bought an Olive Green which is memorably authentically Greek every time I use it.
The picture above is a pigment shop close to the Vatican in Rome. It remained resolutely closed for the whole of our visit. But this picture is almost enough for me. Almost.
I think if I seek out colours deliberately, in foreign cities, that possibly I might be considered a collector.
I also always make colour charts of my new purchases. Obsessive, hmmm. The jury is out. Am I just an artist or am I a collector?
Over the weekend we went ‘out’ out to Exeter Cathedral to hear the music of Radiohead played by a classical music ensemble.
In many respects a surreal experience . Watching the sun go down on the creamy Salcombe Stone of the cathedral’s walls was more magical than the flickering candles that were setting the intended ambience of the performance. Listening to English rock music from the nineties, played by classical musicians in a sacred space made us lose any sense of which century we were in or what genre of music we were listening to.
Outro from Karma Police
Karma Police was not a track played by London Concertante but they were certainly in the building.
Over the weekend I believe I finished my project of creating art inspired by the work of JMW Turner and his locations. I have been focussed on that for about 6 weeks. Doubtless some of the stuff I have learned along the way will stick with me. The random technique that I really like is staining watercolour paper with cold tea. So here are some tiny tomatoes in the saucer of a blue glass cup and saucer caught in sunlight. Nothing Turneresque about it apart from tea stained paper. To be clear Turner did not dye his paper with tea but it was an option to create paper that was more authentically matched to watercolour paper of 200 years ago. I might also try bolder colours like beetroot or turmeric.
Since I transitioned from a career in Medical Imaging that could never have been a balanced work/life experience to the life of a work from home artist, a state of equilibrium exists most of the time. Our move to a seaside suburb of a city was a deliberate attempt at making life more balanced.To throw a little spice into the mix I also do admin for a tennis club. Prior to that I did admin for a large group of Artists. That involved far too much driving and artists can be very slippery fish to manage. The tennis club is just a short walk away and the view of the office is enchanting.
As it happens some slippery fish also play tennis but not in quite the same proportions as the art group. Beyond the unpredictable admin of a tennis club my work/ life balance pivots on a fulcrum of domestic admin v creativity. The balance changes on a daily basis.
I don’t believe I have ever made a sacrifice in life.
I have, however,often given up something I valued for the sake of other considerations.
Surely that is just part of normal life and does not deserve the grandiose title of sacrifice.
This morning I got out of a comfy bed to let Hugo out for a wee. An entirely practical consideration in my opinion. I chose to do that.
I am wary of people who say they sacrificed something. The word is just all a bit too ‘drama queen’ for my liking.
But yesterday some light pruning occurred in our yard. Old blooms cut off to allow new blooms to flourish. That is about as sacrificial as it gets in our house. Anything else is a choice.
The early distractions of yesterday, a misplaced work i.d and fob, a jumper delivered to a friend and the purchase of some dull, but essential art stuff all fitted quite easily into the early part of the day while the domestic goddesses, Madams Dishwasher and Washing machine did the hard graft.
All should have been set for late morning artiness but fate had other plans.
Yesterday was planned to be an art day with a side serving of domestica turned out to be quite a different type of day. Starting with a scene of domestic bliss, pale linens blowing in sunlight.
Our Springtime Yard
Moments later the springtime yard was draped in pale linens as the high (20 foot) washing line broke.
My Dad (born 1931) and my grandad ( born 1888) were very practical men and regularly mended high washing lines so I knew it wasn’t a job beyond me. I had even bought a spare washing line, when we moved into this house, for just such a moment. Planned , preventative maintenance was my thought at the time but I procrastinated and found myself in an ‘ emergency’ situation.
Nothing in my recall of stringing a high washing line involved the macrame nightmare that I created yesterday. Two hours later the washing was once again drying in the sun. All the colours of a domestic victory dancing in my mind, projected onto the twice washed linens.
Linens in the style of Tamara de Lempicka
Would I have been better off using YouTube for instruction rather than relying on intergenerational knowledge?
I don’t think so, and I am a big user of YouTube to fix things. But those ‘How to’ videos are so slick.
Learning from my dad and grandad taught me the art and tolerance of non-slick but effective repairing. My Grandad dealt with washing-line macrame by deep puffing on his pipe and a quiet walk around his garden with his arms held behind his back. My dad would retreat into his shed emerging with the macrame tamed into calm coils of new washing line ready to be strung up.
I have neither a shed or a pipe habit but I have tolerance and tenacity which in my own way beat the macrame.
What’s one small improvement you can make in your life?
If I could eliminate non-productive distraction from my life I would have an extra hour or two every day. My problem with being certain that I want less distraction is that I never know if distraction is an entirely bad thing. Distraction only happens because something interrupts me and I am too nosey to let it pass, usually because my interest in what I am doing is wavering a bit.*
*I am able to be super focussed and single minded. In the right conditions I can turn my ears off.
To be pedantic, I only want the right amount of dull and pointless distraction removed from my life. The joyous life-enhancing distraction is always welcome.
There has been way too much of this in our yard. Warm walls and gentle rain has brought out a parade of young snails on a Monday morning. My early morning cup of tea ,with birdsong, was somewhat ruined by watching dark snails of all sizes make their way up my crisp white walls.
Time to redirect the snail population off my white walls and into the snug, bijoux, terracotta paradise that is my composting system. Which means collecting them in a pot and moving them myself.
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