Everything all right

When we were in Cornwall we looked around loads of galleries, mostly of the shop variety, but also the Newlyn Gallery. We both know of the Newlyn school and were interested to see some of their stuff ‘in the real’ rather than as prints. Normally I’m happy to spend several hours in an art gallery, but this one was small so I didn’t think the visit would take all morning. In fact I think it took two minutes. What a load of tosh! There was none of the Newlyn School stuff there at all (we learned later they’re in another building in Penzance), just recent crap. There were some Christmas-tree-shaped prints in various colours, each of which can’t have taken more than a minute to produce (I did similar stuff at art college and used it as wrapping paper). There was a pen-and-ink drawing, about 6 inches by 4, with a flat black blob and some scribbled lines, a bit like this \/


How much? 

Do you know how much that was on sale for? £325. I couldn’t believe it. So what with seeing that lot (the ‘works’ upstairs make Rothko look talented) and the variable quality of the wares in all the other galleries has inspired me to take up my brushes again. I’m not brilliant by any means, but I know I can do better than a lot of them! So for my birthday Ned’s got me some more oils (my old ones – including the ones I’ve inherited from various dead relatives - are still soft in the tubes, but the tops won’t come off, and they need to be attacked from below) and an easel, and I’ve already started blocking in a Cornish view.


Towards Sennen 

It’s donkey’s years since I last wielded a brush in anger, but it’s slowly coming back. Here’s one I prepared earlier (1990, I think):


Making waves 

It was quite entertaining when we went to buy the stuff, because one of the women in the shop had just realised she’s been drinking decaf all day and was needing her fix, and the other one couldn’t get her head around the fact that we were doing secret shopping that was to be a surprise present for me. The twitchy one put the paints into a bag and sang out “Surprise!” as she handed it over, and then gave a spiral of what she described as ‘special blutak’. I do hope she got her caffeine soon afterwards.

After we went shopping in Banbury this morning the Boy treated me to a pint and a plate of chips in the pub. As we were sat there he muttered “I hope they realise you’re my mum, and I’m not a toyboy!” Well, what could I do? I replied “Get your coat, you’re pulled” and then started calling him ‘darling’, became very tactile and made suggestions about renting a room whenever anyone was within earshot. He blushed. Hahaha!

My biggest brother asked me if there was room on my cake for yet another candle. Tchoh! Silly boy! Doesn’t he realise you just get a bigger cake?

*goes to look for some jelly and ice cream.