Coast, Orange Burst

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I have returned once again to my treasured Ivon Hitchens book by Peter Khoroche. I met the author briefly at an event at Kettle’s Yard, but could not afford the book at that time. A White House Surrounded by Trees no.1 has me in ecstasy, and Summer Duckweed is a perfection of pink and blue and white.

“Painting is to do first and foremost with paint…In a good painting one should get pleasure from the paint…”

Ivon gives much pleasure.

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Moments of Art and Life

The Ruskin Gallery in Cambridge is an exciting little space putting on a diverse range of exhibitions. I can never quite understand why it is so quiet when I visit…but I am not complaining!  It makes a refreshing change to the crowd jostling and artwork glimpsing of the popular London galleries!

Until 20th May you can see Transformation by Annie Cattrell. Here we have a fabulous amalgam of sculpture, dance and art history. The experience deepens the more you become mesmerised by the movement of the bodies.

There is a beautifully produced little booklet to accompany the show with an insightful conversation between the artist and Marius Kwint, Reader in Visual Culture, University of Portsmouth.  I respond, in what seems to be the most fitting way I can, with poetry.

Eros and Heartwood
I have seen Apollo and Daphne
Caught,
At twice remove,
In a moment of pure bliss
And loss.
Glanced in bark
And root
And branch.
Echoed from marble
With bare needs rapt.
These bodies twist
And sculpt my sight.
Finger to branches,
Muscle to leaves.

Slumber and Sea Breeze

Bide With Me Awhile In Slumber / A Thousand Hearts

I have been introduced to all manner of weird and wonderful craft beers lately. Last night the Bradley Apple Saison reminded me of cider (obviously), summer meadows and fresh sea breeze. I am beginning to think that this game we play of describing beers in three words or phrases might be usefully applied to abstract art.

A Prior Life – Sitting With Sadness

 

This week an interesting supper with new friends where the common denominator was art.

The theme of displacement, home and longing kept on emerging.

One woman still longed for Dublin after ten years away, having fallen in love with an Englishman. She wistfully wondered about the other life that could have been.

Another woman, a political refugee now in her eighties, would not re-visit her homeland even though she now could. Feelings about wrong choices could be stirred.

Freud, of course, saw displacement as a repression and defence mechanism for something too dangerous to express.

Gary Petersen sums it up so well when he says ” What makes humans interesting are our mistakes, our attempts at a good life, but never quite getting there.”