#304 theoldmortuary ponders

Desire paths that lead to a realisation.

Desire Paths have always fascinated me. Reading a recent blog from Spitalfields Life, nudged me into writing this blog today.

When I was a student at Barts Hospital my chosen Desire Path took 5 minutes off my journey to Moorgate Station. It was an ancient right of way. For nearly a thousand years medics and butchers have shared adjacent plots in the City of London.

Barts©The Wellcome Trust
Smithfield© Spitalfields Life. The Gentle Author

My short cut, or desire path, took me from the hospital boundary through slaughter yards, with bloodied water running into open drains. My desire path was almost certainly created by butchers, through history, making their way to and from one of the City gates. Moor Gate, so named because it led out to marshy ground known as Moor Fields. The to and fro on my little cut way was not just medical folk and butchers trying to make a quick access or escape, but, by passing so close to active slaughter yards the route may only have been tolerable for those with minds and stomachs already hardened to the sight snd smells of blood and gore. Butchers sometimes used the path as walking wounded, a quick way in to seek medical attention when sharp knives and cleavers have cut through living human flesh. A cleaver cutting through a femoral artery is a mucky and life or limb threatening event. Butchers, before the days of Health and Safety, often had bits missing, and the butchers of Smithfield were very regular and grateful customers when Barts had a fully functioning A and E. Anyway, I digress this blog is about a coastal desire path with much less to talk about. When I returned to work at Barts in 2013 I was hugely sad, but not entirely surprised, that I could no longer follow my short cut to Moorgate.

A desire path (often referred to as a desire line in transportation planning), also known as a game trail, social trail, fishermen trail, herd path, cow path, elephant path, goat track, pig trail, use trail and bootleg trail, is an unplanned small trail created as a consequence of mechanical erosion caused by human or animal traffic. The path usually represents the shortest or the most easily navigated route between an origin and destination, and the width and severity of its surface erosion are often indicators of the traffic level it receives.Desire paths typically emerge as convenient shortcuts where more deliberately constructed paths take a longer or more circuitous route, have gaps, or are non-existent. Once someone has already treaded out a path through the natural vegetation, subsequent traffics tend to follow that visibly existing route (as it is more convenient than carving out a new path by oneself), and the repeated trampling will further erode away both the remaining groundcover and the soil quality that allows easy revegetation.*

The desire path I walk on most days has none of the history of the Barts desire path. It cuts off only seconds of an already brief walk to the beach . It is the area in sunlight in this picture, the actual, brick path runs close to the wall of Stonehouse Tennis Club. But such is pondering that I only realised today that the South West Coastal Path, that both this Desire, and official, brick path lead to, must be made up entirely of historic desire paths that have been linked together. Unexpected enlightenment on a Wednesday

Today I am a rubbish photographer and have managed to cut off the vital words on this plaque. South West Coastal Path are the words I needed but managed not to include in this image.

One of my recent paintings combined with typewriting sums this whole blog up really. Todays in particular but pretty much in general too.

* definition of Desire Path. Wikipedia

#303 theoldmortuary ponders

What exactly was in the water last night? A fairly standard bob was called for the late afternoon/early evening. It all started just a little off normal by some random William Shakespeare quotations. A Midsummer Night’s Dream if that is of any interest. The proper swimmers went off to swim and the eponymous bobbers bobbed. But then the proper swimmers got all giddy by one of the buoys and started throwing a high vis safety buoy about. By the time they reached the bobbing zone a mass ‘piggy in the middle’ game had evolved that then sucked up the bobbers. The bobbers tend to swim in the safety of the bay. The combined effect of the number of people involved increasing and the acoustic properties of a cliff surrounded bay,amplified the noise, lowered the inhibitions and multiplied the competitive element of the game. We stayed in, possibly to the dismay of other bay users until our fingers resembled prunes and our salty faces were dried up by the setting sun.

With eyes stinging from too much splashed sea water and a few innocuous injuries the bobbers left the water. Allowing the waters of Tranquility Bay to settle and clear to the level of tranquil that the name suggests.

Calm restored in the bay but the whatsapp bobbing group bubbled and fizzed with the evenings events. Praise awarded and punishments for miscreants all with a hint of Midsummer Night’s Dream

“Lord what fools these mortals be”

“Though she be but little, she is fierce”

Proper quotes from Midsummer Nights Dream

Fake Shakespeare reimagined for Bobbing from the film Shakespeare in Love.

#287 the oldmortuary ponders

The Eye of the Storm © Glenis Blakiston

Yesterday was a day of Drawn to the Valley , stewarding at the print exhibition during the day and then a quick trip to Tavistock for the Summer Exhibition Private View. It was refreshing to visit an exhibition that I had no responsibility for and no work submitted. Anne and Michael have curated a stunning exhibition at Butchers Hall.

Councillor Caroline Mott, Mayor of West Devon with Anne and Michael.

Visitors to the Private View were treated to a fabulous Mid-Century Modern buffet of vol au vents and intricate delicacies mounted on Ritz biscuits, served to accompany locally produced apple juice. The wines may have come from beyond the valley…

Vol au vents are an exploding confection of Coronation Chicken and flaky pastry. My terrifically arty outfit, a concoction of various blacks was a terrific background for the crumbs that my greed created. Undeterred by my flaky appearance I set about talking, a lot, to artists and friends and enjoying the art. The picture at the top of the blog is by a member Glenis Blakiston, she was a long term member of Drawn to the Valley until her recent death. Her husband, very kindly, submitted some of her pictures to this years Summer Exhibition. Her Encaustic wax image is one of the first things visitors to the exhibition will see this year. The terrific texture in her work gave me the theme for a few pictures from the exhibition. Texture.

©Andy Cairns
©Shelagh Brown

I love that the two creations above share the same colour palate but have a significantly different visual heft. Similarly the next two share similar colour and line but could not be more different.

© Gudrun Taresch
©Barbara Beckerleg

The Exhibition runs from today until Sunday at Butchers Hall, Tavistock. Well worth a visit.

#285 theoldmortuary ponders

Yesterday I put a #meettheartist post on Instagram. I warned potential new readers that many times the same thing happens day after day on the blog. Unintentionally this is exactly the case today.

Saturday and Sunday were shaped by the Sail GP event taking place on our doorstep.

Day 1

Day 2

The days of the weekend are differentiated by other things that happened. Saturday was mostly art and Sunday was mostly sport. Quite by chance there was a curious connection to the sporty bits of yesterday.

A special race was put on at the Sail GP event. The team GB boat had a temporary crew member, Kate, Duchess of Cambridge.

©BBC

Did we see her? Yes,we must have done from our vantage point near the race HQ and village, but everyone really does look exactly the same in a wetsuit and helmet.

She is on the GB boat as it crossed the finish line in front of us.

Then our evening plans created the curious link. Like many we watched the Womens England Football team bring credibility back to our national sport. When they won we watched Kate’s husband greet the winning footballers with the most glorious of joyful hugs.

And by the most delightful of coincidences I have a piece of art for sale at the Exhibition I am managing, that sums this image up.

You can tell a lot about a person by the way they hug. ©theoldmortuary

A repetitive blog but with some subtle changes and an observation that works for me. With the added spice of sporting success.

#283 theoldmortuary ponders

© theoldmortuary

Another day stewarding at the Drawn to Print Exhibition. The two artists who were the primary curators and managers of this exhibition are not printers. I managed to dig out some old work from my long ago Fine Art Degree and,by complete luck, the act of applying typewritten text to watercolour pulls the work loosely into the Print family.

©theoldmortuary

What a family we have joined! The Printers of Drawn to the Valley have been an amazing bunch of people to work with. Trusting us with their beautiful prints with our invented hanging system.

But they have also nurtured us. Debs my fellow non-prntmaking curator, managed this fabulous trio of prints. Her first in this medium. Printmakers talked her through the process on the phone.

©Debra Parkinson

Debs has been commissioned to create several runs of ‘ Smeatons Thief’

This morning I was excited to dive into the world of Tetrapak printing.

Not my finest artistic hour because I had more excitement than talent, but I did create a half decent Tetrapak image and while printing it effectively eluded me, another lovely printer shared her wisdom for future success.

For now I have just applied some digital magic to make me feel better.

©theoldmortuary

The video below is the wall mounted Print hanging.

Drawn to Print at Ocean Studios, Royal William Yard, Plymouth

#278 theoldmortuary ponders

Covid and the effect on everyones lives continues. After 2 years of not visiting the Eden Project in Cornwall we have now been twice in a week. Once for a standard visit, to gather family together.

Although nothing at Eden is ever too ‘standard’

Our second visit was for a, three times, cancelled zip wire ride over the whole of the Eden site.

The experience was worth the wait and started just by the orange arrow.

And ended by the post marked with 1.

Long time readers of this daily blog will know it started out as Pandemic Ponderings. All that time of Pandemic Ponderings and now theoldmortuary ponders we looked on without this household actually getting Covid. Just like everyone we suffered some terrible losses caused by Covid but the experience taught us so much and forced many decisions that we will live with forever. Some of those decisions have brought positive outcomes. Our recent close acquaintance with Covid changed all our plans over the last few weeks, but even those changes, which we thought were disastrous have brought positives. The point of this closing ramble is, I suppose, that this week we were both, in Eden, and able to view it from an unusual perspective. The last few years have seen us all, in Covid, but soon enough we will be able to view it from a different perspective. Some of the changes forced on us may well turn out to be life enhancing.

#277 theoldmortuary ponders

©Fi Smart

Goodness me, spending time with art and artists is so rewarding. I have belonged to an art group for 4 years, most of that time I have been on the committee and most of that time has been in the time of Covid or post Covid restrictions. Zoom meetings, cancelled exhibitions and the over thinking of all things to comply with the latest restrictions and procedures has been the way all organisations have survived the last few years. For me this has given me a massive disconnect. Drawn to the Valley has roughly 160 members. For the most part their names are familiar to me, their faces and characters less so and often I am unfamiliar with their artwork too.

For the next couple of weeks I have the absolute pleasure of putting a name to a face and attatching a mental note of their style of artwork. I am overseeing the stewarding of Drawn to Print at Ocean Studios in the Royal William Yard, Plymouth.

COVID ruined my early involvement in setting up the exhibition but a deliciously negative test allowed me to attend the Private View on Thursday evening.

Two hours of mingling with artists and our guests on a beautiful summer evening with Champagne and the mellifluous sound of Seachanges. Two wonderfully talented musicians who came along to give the evening some glamour and sparkle.

At last an event like this is beginning to feel normal and comfortable again. People being comfortable in the company of one another. Which is why I chose the top image by Fi Smart, I know her name and we have exchanged emails, now I know some of her work and at some point in the next two weeks I am certain we will meet in person.

©Celia Over

I met Celia for the first time when she came to a Drawn to the Valley monthly meeting at Ocean Studios. Until this week I was completely unaware of her style of work. Her work is just a fantastic extension of her, she exuded calm and beauty when I met her and here that exact quality is, in a beautiful print.

Here is my last , for now, image with some mystery.

I met Charlotte Sainsbury for the first time whilst I was serving Champagne at the Private View. I have loved her work for ages but never would have known who she was. She introduced herself to me and my mouth immediately gushed ” Oh, I love your work”

Nothing cool or reserved about that comment but , in truth I always love whatever she exhibits.

© Charlotte Sainsbury.

More lovely prints to share on here over the next two weeks. You are all in for some lovely prints and stories from the exhibition.

#276 theoldmortuary ponders

You may remember that whilst we were bobbing during the winter months there was often an additional bobber who joined our chilly dippings. Her arrival at a bobbing session was cute but not good for her and we always cut short our swim and got out to not encourage her need for human company. Spearmint the seal was not on the bobbing Whatsapp group but she has an uncanny way of finding us.

By April things had very much got to an impasse. While most people respected her space, some did not and got far too close to her. Something she enjoyed and sought out, for the most part. Humans however are not as benign as a seal and often behaved stupidly and dangerously around her. In turn she got bolder and wandered casually into coastal villages seeking human company. In April the RSPCA decided on an intervention and removed her from Plymouth Sound and took her to a wildlife sanctuary. Since then things did not always go so well for her and at times her future seemed uncertain. Today though there was great news.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-cornwall-62270075

The above link takes you to a news article about her release, yesterday, at an unknown location, away from humans. A story that has, thankfully, ended well for her.

#275 theoldmortuary ponders

And just like that, life returns to normal. Maybe in the three months leading up to July I would have thought that there would be a bit of a pinch point, late in July, when I would have a full commitment to family plans and a full commitment to running an exhibition, that had been in the pipe line for a long while. What I had not factored in was catching Covid. Two and a half years of avoiding the dreaded virus had given me a false sense of security. Exactly at my identified, life plan, pinch point, Mr Covid came calling, taking out three family members on the same day and one family member a week earlier. The two episodes cannot have been linked. But they reshaped our summer plans and added to the pinch point.

A Venn Diagram of my life.

The trouble with pinch points in life is that they look more dramatic when they are just abstract plans. Sometimes they look like a near impossible juggle. Juggling two balls certainly seems doable but throwing in the third ball seems foolhardy. As it happened life just flowed past the hurdle of Covid, our family replanned its plans. The Print Exhibition went beautifully to plan.

And here we are on the other side, bobbing in the sea and wondering what all the overthinking was about.

©Andy Bobber

#272 theoldmortuary ponders

What do you do when there are just three of you left in the familial Covid Positive Club and it is the hottest day ever in England?

You head for a cool, remote forest and splash about in the river.

We saw Kingfishers, Dragonflies and tiny silver sprinkles in the riverbed.

The forest was as empty as we expected.

For busier times there were some very specific signs.

By the time we got home our small companion was testing negative. The club just has two members now. Surrounded by our family all protected by freshly created antibodies. We hope to join the Antibody club very soon. But for now we enjoyed a very quiet forest.

Onwards with some hopes of negativity soon