Saturday’s creation
As you may know I began a series of art lessons this week. It is my aim to begin a decorative journal. It will be a work in progress; (obvious I suppose!); I hope to work daily on it, using all mediums and materials. Adding texture, colour, words and my little stamps.
I began yesterday though this is on exploratory at the moment; I am working out ways to start although I have some ideas. I began with a larger piece of paper and threw in all I know so far. Although it looks a little like a jumble; I am pleased with the result. I can see some useful concepts, some to be discarded and areas to work on. So far I have played with watercolours and black ink. What do you think?
I am going to the Royal Academy this morning to see the work of Diego Rivera in Mexico : a Revolution in Art ,1910-1940. He is well known for his murals … I am not in that league but will be looking for ideas.
Friday Snapshot … Old Sundials
Last week I featured a beautifully illustrated bookbinding of Jessie M King ; the book of old sundials & their mottoes has colour illustrations by Alfred Rawlings and drawings of some famous sundials by Warrington Hogg.
Published in 1914 by T. N. Foulis, of in Edinburgh who were noted for their fine book design, illustration and production
Alfred Rawlings (1855-1929) I understand was Reading based; a water colour painter who specialised in landscapes and seascapes.
I know even less about Warrington Hogg the illustrator.
It is a funny little book with a mish-mash of arty attributes; and a selections of nearly 350 inscriptions from old sundials, with an introductory essay by Launcelot Cross whose background also remains unknown.
‘What a dead thing is a clock, compared with the simple altar-like structure and the silent
heart-language of the old dial!’
Henley-on-Thames
The sundial stood as the garden god of Christian Gardens. It spoke of moderate labours, of pleasure not protracted after sunset.’
Reading
The dial seems is a witness with a silent voice amid the changes of this life, to the lastingness of things.’
Padworth, Berks.
Alphabe Thursday … R is for Rosehip
I love the aroma of aromatherapy. I use essential oils to make my home smell nice if during that time I ‘get’ other benefits then it is a bonus. For instance I love perfume of lavender and it helpful when I cannot sleep. Rosemary, smells good and is refreshing in the morning. So these two oils are the ones I always have at hand. Also, neither are expensive and always a welcome gift!
So I am not an aromatherapist I just know what I like. Another oil I adore which is much more expensive and would never been used in an oil burner in my house is Rose. I use this with a carrier oil as a moisturiser. My very favourite carrier oil is rosehip
I had not realised that Rose hip was such a useful seed; and has been for centuries used not particularly for medicinal need but as John Gerarde says in The Herball the generall historie of plantes (1633); ‘the brier bush or hep tree is also called Rosacanina, which is a common and well known’ he adds that it is too insignificant to waste words on, only children eat the berries when they are ripe or make chains of the scarlet beads and and gentlewomen make tarts and such like dishes for pleasure … ‘therefore this shall suffice for the description’.
I think it is a shame he felt this way
We have learned since that it is a good source of vitamin C, I remember as a child being given a daily dose of rosehip syrup, and believing that all medicine should have such a pretty taste. Also it has healing properties that make it useful when nursing scarred tissue and is used in the treatment of cancer.
We have an abundance of hips in the gardens here at the museum they look fabulous and good enough to eat. My colleagues have made some jelly and it looks divine.
Wednesday … Sybil Andrews the teacher.
Yesterday I had my first art class; the first since 1965. I have always enjoyed art, painting, drawing; I even did a some pottery and sculpture at a class on Saturday mornings at Southampton Art College as a schoolgirl.
However,it was not until now have I considered the theory of art, when researching Sybil Andrews and indeed other artists who not only studied art at college and trained for years with eminent scholars of art; they went to teach art themselves.
I don’t know why this was such a surprise to to me. The works of great masters are not just aesthetically pleasing but the result of much learning and continual practice, no less than a doctor, scientist, or a lawyer and should not be less valued in the world.
While I do not expect to reach such dizzy heights, I have learned to do some printing and discovered mighty print-makers who have made international notoriety including Sybil Andrews. Famed for her lino-cuts of colour and action; she has written a book called the Artist’s Kitchen long out of print but I managed to borrow a copy from the Bodleian Library. It was an inter-library loan to be read in the library so my use was a little curtailed. Sybil says ‘ This book [published in 1985] has grown out of the years teaching my private art class, the problems of every kind which crop up in a group endeavoring to make pictures, or works of art, not copying, but attempting ideas and create their own pictures’.
I was a little disappointed that there were no images ‘ that she had done earlier’ that we have come to expect in our technological world and even then when ask why she hadn’t included illustrations of her own she replied ‘this is the kitchen where the ingredients of the cakes and pastries are assembled. This is not the display counter.
The Artist Kitchen is well stocked with useful ingredients. Those able to have a copy of the book will find lots of ‘little gems which will enrich the art of living’
After reading it made me find someone who might put some meat on the bones while it will be a long journey but I am hoping a pleasant one.
Weekly Photo Challenge … Inside my drawers!
I have a collection of scarves; not every colour of the rainbow, more every shade of Sweet Peas! Many years ago when I had some spare cash and not much sense, I saw a Colour Consultant. After much discussion and a mixing and matching of scarves; she decided that black, white and yellow were not for me; some other shades were ‘maybe’ but as a rule of thumb when buying clothes I should think Sweet Peas’.
Needless to say I didn’t go out and replace my wardrobe; I have merely collected scarves. Not always the delicate shades of those perfumed delights, but certainly the jewels of the herbaceous border. Unfortunately, the result of so many of the silken things is more like the compost heap. I keep adding at the top; while they may not rot,they do get crushed beyond recognition.
So the inside my drawer (s) are pretty much a pig’s breakfast, until I have a seasonal blitz.
Which does mean I have a surprise if I come across a scarf I have forgotten about. Also, I realise that I am easily fooled, some colours are not natural let alone resembling a flower!
Monday and yet another good weekend …
Yesterday’s weather was a lovely surprise after a few days of heavy rain and coldness. I expected the worse and even considered wearing wellington boots. Certainly there was a autumn chill in the air, but a clear blue sky and little or no breeze.
I wanted to look at some particular trees on the campus this morning so I skirted round the lake at Whiteknights towards Foxhill House and the Law School; which is an architectural delight. It has some photographic features that might prove useful when the scenery fails; but so far so good.
I kept a good pace but stopped to admire the hedge recently planted. While it still has some protective cladding already it is a handsome border between the student block, shamefully not so grand as Foxhill, and the surrounding woodland.
Now heading off to the library and the other schools where I I find the lawns elegantly trimmed with various trees remaining from grounds of the stately home of the Marquis of Blandford. These have been cared for and added to over the years. My particular favourite is the Indian Bean tree, the Ginkgo Biloba and the Lebanese Cedars; while do like the Oaks and the other native hedges these ‘foreigners’ as so excotic and sophisticated.
Before I headed home I spied a heron by the fish pond near the School of Estate Management. I was unprepared for such a sight; while I fumble for my camera and he flew off. Poor chap he didn’t stand a chance with the clumsy sight seer and the carp; they were huge!
Now feeling a chill I hurried home wondering ‘How long will this last?’
Silent Sunday
Saturday … I loved my Racer!!
I have a bike; since I was a child it has been my favoured mode of transport. Such language barely suits my first cycles that were always in need of repair! However, I soon learned how to do the basic stuff to get it roadworthy particularly later when I needed it for my daily paper round and to get to school on time.
My first bike had no brakes but an overly efficient fixed back wheel that stopped the bike when the rider back peddled. It was the bicycle I learned on; very quickly, after I found myself in a ditch or a bed of stinging nettles; when I misjudged the braking mechanism.
When I started secondary school I was given a second hand cycle; had I passed my eleven plus; it would have been shiny and new! The Raleigh racing bike with a boy’s frame, derailleur gears and dropped handlebars was bought for a guinea (£1.10) from a local auction. The toe clips, dragged on the ground with a distinctive click when the bike was being pushed. It was little too large for me and not easy to ride with large bag of newspapers on my paper round. So I borrowed a butcher’s bike from a friend; it weighed a ton but at least I didn’t have to carry a huge bag over my shoulder. It would drown a little girl who was not yet 5’0’’; I did grow into my blue racing bike and managed to keep it going until I left school.
I didn’t buy another bike until 1980; a second hand one, nothing grand but it made do until I could afford something new. It was a joyous occasion when I did and it went some way to repair the hurt of failing my eleven plus. I bought a Raleigh Road Ace 12, made from 531 lightweight steel guaranteed not to rust, with Shimano 600 gears. The boy’s frame suited me best as I had not grown much over the last 20 years.
So I began racing and preparing for the London to Brighton ride and even did a triathlon. Until I got pregnant a little late and unexpected in 1988. The beauty (the bike not the baby) was stored for a while until I returned to work in 1995 and began cycling daily a 20 mile round trip. Meanwhile I got a job nearer home and had an accident; while the bike was not damaged I was badly hurt.So, I decided to get a bike a little more suited to my need; built for comfort and not for speed; I have a nice hybrid. But I often think it was not such a wise choice. Although I don’t cycle far these days; I do think it would be nice to have a different riding experience. I would like a wardrobe of cycles or even be able to high a specific type on the odd occasion.
My old racer is still going strong my brother rides her 30 years on and not yet a bit of rust.
Friday from the library with a flapjack a good combination
My colleague at work invited me to lunch one day last week. I say lunch, I mean we shared a Granola Bar which is a rather nice flapjack with toasted pumpkin seeds. So while it was little more than a snack it was scrummy. Also, on the downside we huddled round a spare table in the corner of the office; well away from our desks; for obvious reasons we are not allowed eat near the books and ‘equipment.’
We should perhaps have gone to the staff room where we would have been a bit more comfortable; but my friend had something to show me. She knew I was researching the Illustrator Jessie M. King for a future post; she had come across a nice book about Sundials (worth a future post) with a very nice binding designed by Jessie King herself. I think you will agree it was a nice way to spend a lunch break.
Alphabe Thursday Q is for Quink
Oh dear ‘Q’ has come round again but I didn’t have to look far this time. On my desk is a bottle of ink; it is called Quink, a word formed from ‘quick’ and ‘ink’ developed by the Parker Pen Company in 1928. It was to be the new writing system, the ink drying by absorption and not by evaporation. It was used with the Parker 51 pen introduced 10 years later.
Although I use a fountain pen all the time; especially when writing by first drafts for my blog (I can write more quickly with a fountain pen) I prefer cartridges as they are less messy.
But I like this little bottle; it was designed with a low centre of gravity to prevent tipping. Which was a good feature for me; as child as be lived on a houseboat. A bottle of Quink, with an assortment of pens always stood precariously on the sideboard. Although it was securely moored beyond the high tide level to have at least one thing unspillable in a family of 6 was a good thing.
My mother was determined that we should continue to use fountain pens; even though ball points such as Biro were becoming available and affordable. She believed ball point pens were harmful to handwriting!
Coat Hanger Doll's House 