The final journey 

For anyone still reading this blog, my dear talented wife succumbed to cancer 12 months ago. 

Olga had been busy in her final years and there was a pile of work that hadn't been photographed and added to her website. I've now updated the website with all the final work, for anyone who appreciated her art. Do please check it out.

Good luck in all shapes

This summer I was determined to take my stitching outdoors more.  This is such a pleasure when it works well, but can be an incredible palaver to organise.  I had tracked down a product made by Margaret Cooter: perhaps I could commission a cross-body version of her Travel Lines Tote which would be just right for all the gubbins I wanted to take down the garden with me.

I commissioned one from Margaret based on the Circle Line, which is the underground line I used by far the most in my London years.  How I looked forward to receiving my bag, and to spending more time in the garden.  However, it is surprising how much a life can change over just part of a season.

It is interesting that that need for the commissioned tote bag remained.  Now, the need for a neat cross-body bag is as a soft but secure container for my syringe driver, the essential delivery mechanism for all my palliative care needs.

Co-incidentally also, Margaret asked that payment be made to Medecins Sans Frontiers.  It is great that something hand made, hand stitched, soft, companionable, is making lovely links.  Thank you Margaret.

Disappointment, delight, and still no definite diagnosis

Julie Speed: Eyes to see (image from here)
After much hospital to and fro, latterly to have a needle biopsy (don't ask!) which should bring a definitive answer this week or next, I am still stuck with my ascites, discomfort, exhaustion, not being able to eat much, and with intermittent sharp pain, and of course worry.  The thinking so far is that I have bowel cancer spread around to other organs, inoperable, and am to start chemotherapy as soon as they have pinned down exactly what's what so that they can put together the appropriate cocktail of drugs.
Usually someone who immediately starts thinking about possible solutions to any problem, I must admit myself to be somewhat stumped right now.  But although I cannot concentrate on art books, or serious study, I can at least read novels.
I decided to try Joanne Harris' quartet of Chocolat titles.  I had never read anything of hers, but had heard her speak on the radio.  Unfortunately I was disappointed.  I especially disliked The Lolipop Shoes which I found to be a horror story.  But then I also am not especially enamoured of chocolate.  They were a bit too sweet and sticky for me.  
That's also the downside of binge reading.  I stuck with the four titles, one after the other, when all the little things which irritate are exaggerated.  On the other hand, I have similarly been binge reading Ngaio Marsh, and have been thoroughly delighted.
Although the detective protagonist Chief Inspector Alleyn remains constant, his murder investigations are set in different places, even in different countries, or even on board ship.  Marsh is excellent at character, dialogue, and description as well as brilliant with story.  I dread running out of her novels because they provide me with such excellent distraction.
I have run out of Josephine Tey mysteries, but Nicola Upson has written a series of novels with Tey as the protagonist, and a new one is due out later this year.

Aesthetic deficit

Recently I have been visiting hospital to undergo tests.  I have dreaded going back to the hospital after I spent so much time there some years ago when my mother was ill.  Now the horrid experience of being poked and prodded and not yet definitively diagnosed is mine - and in such thoroughly depressing surroundings.
Why are some hospitals so disgracefully devoid of anything visually comforting or uplifting?  It is bad enough for those of us who are temporarily unwell, but how awful for those who are over worked and under paid spending all their working days in these surroundings.  Because of financial shortages the places are not only far from uplifting, but generally give a strong impression of not being cared for.  Only the care of the staff towards the patients is generous.
At present I am unable to do much other than read distracting novels (I read Denise Mina's Conviction, and am working my way through Ngaio Marsh's Inspector Alleyn novels.)  So today I started distracting myself with thoughts about what kind of art I would like to see on hospital walls.
Work which is positive and pleasant in appearance would of course be desirable, but I think that I personally would want something that also engages curiosity and thought, just as I prefer to read novels which are well written.
Of course because everyone has different aesthetic taste, I can see why some hospitals go for still life paintings.  But the first example I thought of was something by the Mark Boyle family.

(image from here)
When I have encountered his work I was fascinated by the large reproductions of random parts of the world.  Such a size I think would tend to take minds off personal problems for a short time at least, rather than sitting in increasing dread anticipation.  But maybe this would be too close to the actual surroundings!  That especially so if the story behind the artwork is not explained.
I do think that size is important.  The image must demand attention to distract. 

(image from here)
Jeff Wall's photograph inspired by Hokusai does that, and even if you don't know the original there is so much to attract, intrigue, and amuse.  I also think that keeping the mind alert is a good idea, because as I have found, it is so easy simply to deal with the situation simply by shutting oneself down.
Perhaps large reproductions of Hokusai prints, or something similarly human, busy, and with a touch of humour. 

What do you think? 

A great coincidence

Edvard Munch: The Kiss IV (image from here)
I'm lucky that this year there just so happen to be three exhibitions on at the same time covering artists of interest to me.  The three artists are from that fascinating melting-pot of an era: belle-epoque into modernism the end of the 19th century into the 20th, and all three artists were influenced by having been in Paris, though not French themselves.  Munch, Schjerfbeck, and Vallotton are all individual artists, on the edge of movements, but so connected with what was going on in Paris that they shine a light on it all as well as being interesting in themselves.

Edvard Munch: Theatre Programme for Ibsen's play Jean Gabriel Borkman (image from here)
Of course aware of The Scream and a few other works, I did not otherwise know much about Edvard Munch.  Edvard Munch, Love and Angst is the catalogue of the British Museum exhibition, and a fascinating read.  I was interested to read about his life and about the psychology behind the angst-ridden aspects of his work, and of prevailing attitudes to psychology in wider society at the time.  It is also interesting to read of his illustrative work, especially with regard to theatre programmes, and how popular fellow Norwegian playwright Ibsen was in Paris at the time.
His wood prints are so interesting, their immediacy exciting my curiosity.

Helene Schjerfbeck: Self portrait 1912 (image from here - with review)
Helene Schjerfbeck's still figures appeal greatly to me, and I love her self portraits.  She was Finnish, but not only spent time in Paris but also in St Ives.  I regret that I had not known her work before now, but have much enjoyed reading the Royal Academy exhibition catalogue, and finding out so much about her and her works now.

Helene Schjerfbeck: The Seamstress (image from here - with blog post)

Felix Vallotton: The Lie (image from here - and review)
Now I am deep into the catalogue of the third exhibition, of the work of Felix Vallotton.  As a great fan of Vuillard's work I knew of Vallotton's paintings and some of his prints.  I love the enigmatic quality in his paintings, and their dramatic composition.  His use of colour is interesting - indeed, the work of all three artists bring lots of questions about use of colour to mind.    

Felix Vallotton: Money (image from here - and review)
I enjoy Vallotton's use of black as a colour in his prints too.

It is such a joy to have three perspectives on an interesting period of art.

Lazin' on a sunny afternoon ... in the summertime ...

Current reading awakens memories

Natalia Goncharova: Three Young Women (image from here)
These days art exhibition catalogues seem to dominate my serious reading.  At present it's Natalia Goncharova - an exhibition on at Tate Modern.
I first encountered this artist in a postcard of the above image.  When I started working in London in the early 1970s I was a frequent visitor to museums and galleries where there was a wide range of postcards of the collections available.  Not having the means to purchase magazines and books in those days, I did binge on postcards which I would stick up on my walls at work.  The above was one of those, but I did not know anything about the artist.

Natalia Goncharova: Hay cutting (image from here)
Now I am discovering all about her through the splendid catalogue.  So many of her paintings, unlike the one at the top, remind me of my early childhood summers in northern Greece and the views in the '50s of farming activity in the landscapes we passed with the train across Europe.

Natalia Goncharova: Linen (image from here)
The religious paintings chime with the icons which surrounded me, and the lovely painting immediately above reminds me of the laundry near our flat where to my wide-eyed childish fascination they used irons just like the one pictured.  When I was about four, when I was the only child in the whole extended family, there were many aunts alive, and we would go for glorious picnics when the days seemed to stretch forever.  I find that Goncharova's paintings chime with my memories of those times.  This is especially true of the image below which is from Eirene's blog A Place Called Space and her post on the Natalia Goncharova exhibition at the Tate.

Natalia Goncharova: Apelsinia (image from here)
This catalogue is therefore not only full of information but also a lovely reminder of a most enjoyable time in my life.