Six Quick Weeks

It is just over six weeks since I left Scotland. It's been six strange weeks. Very little has gone to plan: Pauline and I didn't have our planned safari and other visits I'd planned for last week were cancelled because I ended up in the Emergency Ward about 10 days ago with an infection and some other odds and ends I won't bore you with. The last week has had its ups and downs but I'm now feeling okay and the doc has pronounced me fit to fly. In a few hours I will leave Napier and by 2100 hours I should be in the air on the way back to Scotland via Dubai and a short stop in Australia. I arrive back in Scotland on Thursday (UK time) and on Lewis on Tuesday the 22nd.

Please don't think I've not had an great time. I have. It's just not been the time I intended. Instead I fell back into my usual life here. It has been good. I've cemented some friendships and, because I've been staying with The Family, my time with them has been wonderful.

I had intended to do almost daily blog posts but, despite masses of material, that just hasn't happened and I seem to have spent very little time in Blogland. Ironically last week when I cancelled travel plans and therefore had more time to blog, the infection and the cure (which of the two was worse I'm not sure) left me nauseous and lethargic.

So you may be getting posts about New Zealand for a while to come.

In the meantime I'll leave you with Max Patte's Solace in the Wind on the Wellington waterfront. Somehow that wasn't the title I had in mind (the significance of 'wind' by the way is, I assume, because Wellington is known as The Windy City).

The Kelpies

A couple of weeks ago Anna and I decided to take a trip one afternoon from Bishopbriggs over to Falkirk to see something neither of us had yet seen: The Kelpies.  I'd been reminded of them recently in Blogland by Violet Sky who has been inside them and who has done several posts.   Anna and I decided just to stay on the outside (I couldn't have climbed up or, rather, having climbed up I'd be unlikely to get down easily).

The links to the Kelpies website above will shows some exceptional photos far better than I could ever have the opportunity to take but here's a few tasters of the 30 metre high sculptures:

I've shown the last photo because it shows the red barriers close up.  The sculptures have a water ditch around their bases.  It's an interesting feature.  I don't know what happened to require the unsightly barriers but presumably either someone decided to fall into the (very shallow water)  or the Health and Safety Police deemed it a hazard.  Whatever the answer it's an eyesore and I hope it's sorted out soon. 

Whatever one thinks of the photos seeing the sculptures in the flesh (to use a rather inapposite phrase) is so much better.  If you can I'm sure all who've seen them would suggest you do too.

The Journey

In Durham's Millenium Square is a sculpture: The Journey by Fenwick Lawson. The bronze of the original wooden sculpture 'The Journey', by the renowned sculptor Fenwick Lawson who is County Durham born and a City of Durham resident. The sculpture is in Millenium square just off Claypath near to the Market Place and it depicts the journey of monks, fleeing Lindisfarne Abbey (Holy Island) off the Northumberland coast. They are carrying the uncorrupted body of St Cuthbert to it's eventual destination at Durham. The monks were forced to flee Lindisfarne in A.D. 875 because of continued attacks there by the Vikings.

For Katherine

Today CJ and I went to Tatton Park in Cheshire. It wasn't the perfect weather for wandering round gardens or for photography and the Mansion itself was a major disappointment so far as I was concerned. The fact that I took very few photos (despite being an English National Trust property photography was not allowed anyway inside the Mansion - not a problem because there was only one photo I really wanted to take).

There was, however, one particularly interesting item in the garden. It was Helen Marten's coveting keratin and milk on white (with Fran Edgerley). The first thing I said was 'There's one for Katherine.'

This is described as an inversion of a monumental sculpture, evoking the Egerton (Tatton Park was the Egerton family seat) lion and the British obsession with heirarchy. A truncated, hand-carved polystyrene lion faces an obtuse billboard, suggesting the shifting ownership and branding of Tatton Park.

As the description meant absolutely nothing to me I thought I'd offer it for discussion.

I have to say that I really liked the lion. I thought he had the face of an old man.

A Day at Chester Cathedral

Today CJ and I went to Chester Cathedral. Parts of the Cathedral (admittedly a very small part) date back 2000 years. The present church, however, was not built as a cathedral but as a monastry in 1092 - over a thousand years ago. So it's seen quite a lot happen over its lifetime. I used to go to the Cathedral when I was in my late teens/early twenties. Chester has always been very important to me and at one time the Cathedral was, briefly, too. What surprised me today was that I didn't remember the inside of the building at all. Of course the main body of the church has changed little but the infrastructure for visitors (who have to pay an admission charge) has made considerable changes. There were far fewer visitors than I recall and I suspect that the charge is a substantial contributory factor. The building is a historical edifice and regardless of the religious significance today it has played a hugely important part in the life of Chester.

I am sure that on this Blog and on CJ's Blog there will be many posts on our visit and doubtless a lot of duplication.

I thought that I would start my posts with a very modern addition to the Cathedral: a sculpture by Stephen Broadbent entitled Water of Life and installed in the Cloisters Garden of the Cathedral in 1994. I think it is one of the most beautiful things in the Cathedral

Jesus said the water that

I shall give will be an

inner spring always welling

up for eternal life - John 4:14

I’ve Fallen in Love – Again!

You’d think I’d have more sense at my age wouldn’t you.  But no.  When we were walking round the Lady Lever Art Gallery my eyes alighted on a face of beauty and mystery; a face that I would never understand but would always feel was there just waiting to be understood.  Of course it’s not the face itself but the expression on the face that tells the story – or withholds it.  The person who created this face understood people. 

I was so busy standing in front of the sculpture marvelling at the depth, the pathos, that I didn’t take in the sculptor’s name.  When I got back to CJ’s and looked at it again I knew the name.  Of course.  Jacob Epstein.  How much controversy has he created in his works.  When I was a young man, perhaps even a child, Epstein created Liverpool Resurgent which became a Liverpool landmark but which, when it was first placed on Lewis’s Corner (Lewis’s was a famous Department Store which started in Liverpool) caused huge controversy.   However it soon became part of Liverpool and a well-known local meeting place as immortalised in the 1962 song "In My Liverpool Home" by Peter McGovern: "We speak with an accent exceedingly rare, Meet under a statue exceedingly bare"

All this is, of course, just a rambling aside which I fancied you might find interesting.  For me Deidre will remain loved but I will only be ably to dream of what she might have been thinking as I stood in front of her and gazed into those eyes.

Tree Chair

Chair, Castle Grounds, Stornoway.

When Is Art A Con?

Dawn Treader’s wonderful recent blog series on sculptures including one on a sculptor called William Sweetlove entitled Sweetlove and Cloning made me think of an incident many years ago when I was studying.  I went to an ‘after tutorial, after coffee, gathering’  with some of my fellow students.  The party was at the flat of a famous sculptor (or perhaps it was his sister because it was she, I seem to recall, who was one of the crowd of students with whom I was at the time).  In the fireplace was a poker (for poking the coal fire) in a piece of tramline with a hole drilled in it to hold it.  Leastways that’s what I thought it was.  My evidence for that was firstly that it was in the hearth and secondly it was a piece of the worm gear on a shaft from a motor car.  Such items were commonly used as pokers after the war when money and commodities were short.  In fact Dad took a steel rod from a car engine and made a handle from a varied selection of metal and fibre washers which he then machined into the shape of a handle.  It was a splendid item. 

Anyway the sculptor in question had once worked in an art school environment as a caretaker and decided that he could produce works just as good as the works he saw coming out of the art school.  He was reported amongst my friends as having said that he thought it was a huge confidence trick and that he could do just as well.  He is supposed to have said that once he became famous he would show the art establishment up for the pretentious people that they were.  When he became famous and part of the establishment memory appears to have failed him.  Of course that may all have been apocryphal.  Whom amongst us knows?

Anyway, going back to the flat on that evening many years ago, I decided to poke the fire ‘cos it was getting a bit chilly.  Oh dear.  The ‘poker’ was in fact one of the sculptor’s works of art.  I was saved from my faux pas just in time.

I wonder why William Sweetlove reminded me of that?  

The Dream

Today CJ, Jo and I went to IKEA.  Exciting eh? Actually IKEA is always a bit of an exciting experience for us teuchters from Lewis.

But on the way we went to see Dream.  Dream takes the form of a 20 metre high girl's head with her eyes closed, seemingly in a dream-like state, resting on a plinth bearing the inscription "Dream Sutton Manor" inspired by the small, circular "tally" each miner carried as a means of identification. The notion is simple but profound, for in the words of Jaume Plensa's own words "in our dreams, anything is possible...".

The story of the sculpture can be read on the website Dream.

My impression was one of awe at the size and beauty of the sculpture.  It was, apparently, controversial.  Why it should have been I cannot comprehend.

You're Not Allowed To See These

Glasgow has a bus station. It is a fairly new, very clean, light and airy bus station. I think it is impressive. I decided today to share that thought and the wonderful sculpture in it with you. Unfortunately it is, apparently, prohibited to take photos in the bus station. So far as I could see there are no notices. After I'd taken a few photos I was approached by a member of (presumably security) staff telling me it was prohibited. I asked why but he didn't know. It's just prohibited. It wasn't an arrestable offence. Well, I'm sorry, if anyone wants to breach security they can do it a million ways. I took photos openly. I think you'll agree it's a good facility.

Standing Stones

Near to the house of Niece Who Loves Nature and Partner Who Loves Otters in Exeter is a Sainsbury supermarket. At the entrance are three sculptures by Ray Smith commissioned by Sainsbury and entitled Standing Stones and comprising metal figures in granite blocks. Their relevance to the area is that they are on the route of the Great West Run.

Motherless

Last October I blogged about a sculpture in the Kelvingrove Museum and Art Gallery in Glasgow to which I took a real fancy.  I thought it was one of the most moving sculptures I'd ever seen.  As I hadn't made a note of the title nor the sculptor nor could I find any details of it on the Kelvingrove website, I simply called it Father and Child.  Two things happened today.  I read Simply Heather's posting Cultivating Flourishing Appreciation and Martin came back from Scotland having been to the Kelvingrove and looked up the information for me.  The title of the piece is Motherless and it is by George Anderson Lawson (1832 - 1904).

Hugh Stevenson, Sculpture Curator, kelvingrove Museum and Art Gallery has said of the piece on the Relicarte website:

The heart-rending sculpture by George Lawson has been a firm favourite among visitors since being bought for Kelvingrove in 1901. The story behind the ensemble of the sad little girl in the arms of her distraught father needs no explanation apart from the title Motherless. One can only speculate how mother met her end – in a tragic accident perhaps, or in one of the epidemics that swept Victorian Britain.

The popularity of this piece is guaranteed by its appeal to the emotions. It is by far the best-known work by Scottish sculptor George Lawson; in fact it is probably the only work known to most people by the man who was responsible for the figure groups on the front of Glasgow’s City Chambers.

What is the relevance of Heather's posting and and why did it prompt this posting?  The fact that she had found a wonderful statue of a child.

Life is just so full of coincidences.

Father and Child

When I went to the Kelvingrove Museum and Art Gallery a while ago and posted some entries, I had intended to post an entry on another sculpture that really took my fancy. It was of a father and child. Unfortunately I didn't take any details at the time and subsequently was unable to find anything about it on the Museum's website. I hope that by the time I next visit the Kelvingrove in the autumn it is still there.

The Sunflower

I cannot recall seeing this sculpture when I was last at the Kelvingrove a few months ago. I'm sure that it must either have been in a different location or I was walking around with my eyes closed. When I saw it on Sunday afternoon (in a very prominent position I have to add) I was totally captivated. It is one of the most beautiful modern sculptures I can ever recall seeing.

The piece, entitled The Sunflower, Garden Piece about 1932 by Gilbert Ledward and carved in Portland Stone has a strong flavour of the 1930s with its simple shapes but it still has the appealing tendernss of the Madonna and Child. To me, however, the mother's facial expression is the embodyment of beauty and tenderness.

We Have No Time To Stand and Stare

I went to Town this morning and after hurtling round trying to get things I met Ann and had a coffee at The Woodlands. I'd already been conscious of the fact that the Lewis Maritime Festival was taking place and had managed a few photos of the yachts in the harbour earlier in the morning. As I came out of The Woodlands I decided to drive round to Cuddy Point and get some more photos but the yachts were, by that time, out of the Harbour and into The Minch.

It was then that I realised that, since CJ had gone home, I hadn't once, in the words of Wm. Henry Davies (1871-1940) in his poem Leisure, stood and stared. So I got out of the car and walked around and took some photos of some of the 'sculptures' on the road into Stornoway. I thought that CJ had already done a blog on them when he was here but, of course, the flowers have all changed since then. However I can't find the posting if there was one. Anyway I made time to Stand and Stare and felt all the better for having so done.

Sails in the Harbour on a drab Thursday morning.

A boat out of water. I really love this.

A yacht in the Outer Harbour (photographed from The Braigh)