Joyous Spring outing

Not a breath of wind, no clouds, full sun, birds singing, and hardly another person around: our outing to Heale House garden was blissful.  We had been there twice before, but many years ago, and had kept meaning to go back.  A friend reminded me of this when she told me of her recent delight there, and so we chose to go today.  And what luck with our timing!  Not only was the weather wondrous, but the blossoms on the trees were out and pristine. 
Glorious!

The house and garden are in a fantastic situation, in the curve of a branch of the river Avon, which creates views and opportunities for naturalistic design around the more formal gardens.  Surrounding hills create a delightful wide valley which (apart from the occasional fighter plane! from the nearby air force station) was soothingly restoratively peaceful.  With hardly anyone else in the gardens, and with so little other intrusion from the outside world it felt like we had sidestepped the everyday. 

Even Heale Cottage (the large house with the thatched roof and the only visible neighbour) looked like an illustration from an 18th century novel.

Bright sunshine is not the best condition for taking good snaps, but everywhere I looked - vistas and details - demanded to be captured, to be savoured later.

In one corner there is a Japanese bridge leading to a now rather dilapidated tea house.  But it all looks fitting with the magnificent surrounding blossoms.

So many shades and shapes of green - so much beauty, and promise of beauty to come.

This outing was both restful and stimulating in so many ways!  We won't leave it so long to return again - although we should not count on being as lucky as we were today.

Three threads (part 1)

Hughie O'Donoghue: Three Studies for a Crucifixion II (image from here)
This week I was fortunate to see three exhibitions in one venue: the Pallant House Gallery in Chichester.  I had arranged to meet a friend there to see two exhibitions - the Pasmore and the Nolan - but the bonus for me was the display of woodcut prints which I had time to visit before my friend arrived. 

Vanessa Bell: String Quartet (image from here)
The display covered quite a range of styles which I enjoyed perusing.  Durer's work is always a delight, and it was interesting seeing Vanessa Bell's illustration work, as I was not so familiar with her prints.

Ben Nicholson: Five Circles (image from here)
Of the abstracts, two artists' work was intriguing: Ben Nicholson I did not expect to see at all, and indeed it turns out that this is most likely the only woodcut he executed.  I love the way that the grain of the wood fits his minimal style so well.  What a pity he did not do more.

Rebecca Salter: Celest 1 (image from here)

Salter's work also fascinates me - it always strikes me that she is trying to make pieces which look as much unlike woodcut as possible.  The two on show here are like fine woven cloth.

Emma Stibbon: Hverir, Iceland (image from here)

Such a contrast with the work of Emma Stibbon which is pure drama in landscape.

Utagawa Hiroshige: Travellers surprised by sudden rain (image from here)

John Buckland-Wright: Figure (after Stanley Hayter) (image from here)

I was pleased to see a couple of 'usual suspects': Hiroshige and a homage to Stanley Hayter by John Buckland-Wright.  But was thoroughly delighted finally to see Nana Shiomi's work close to - having previously admired it online only.  Of the prints from 100 views of Mitate, it was No88 Great Buddha which appealed to me - shown below.

But the work which inspired me most was not a woodcut at all.  It was in the gallery/café space outside the print room: Hughie O'Donoghue's Three Studies for a Crucifixion II - magnificent carborundum prints, illustrated at the top of this post. 

Watch the birdie

One felt solution

Although a couple of ideas have presented themselves as to how I can use up my felted knitwear in a way which fits my work - as can be seen here in my work blog, it suddenly occurred to me that one way of keeping a sample of the colours which I find so seductive, and the feel which is scrummy, is to make mug mats.  A selection of samples, in effect, of which the below are the first.

I cut out a circle from the main body patterned felt, using two yarns, and then another matching circle from the collar, using one yarn.  So far I have only stitched the reds together, using a blanket stitch round the edge.  It seems to work OK - a little precarious with a tall glass, but definitely good for a mug.

Carving books

Brian Dettmer: World Series (image from here)
In the current issue of Sculpture magazine there is an article about Brian Dettmer who uses books to make his work.  He cuts away books, leaving the contents he chooses, and contrives new shapes for them.  There is an interesting TED talk by him here about his work.

Household physicians
 

(image from here)
I like the sculptural aspects of Dettmer's work, that he takes the books well beyond the conventional book appearance - I found the photos of the clamped and constrained books in his studio fascinating.  There seem to be more and more artists using existing books as raw material in their work and Dettmer joins Tom Phillips and his A humument pieces at the top of my list of those most interesting and thought-provoking.  But it is an intellectual attraction only; I do not find this kind of art viscerally moving.  I find my thresholds becoming increasingly high these days - perhaps the result of seeing so/too much?

Spring

Looking out of the window the garden looks bright and inviting - a slight warning from the drops on the glass.  Outside, the rain is coming in icy needles at a difficult angle - but still the flowers bring a sense of promise.

But thank goodness I'm back inside now that downpour is in full flow, with an edge of hail!

With gardening we learned that instant is definitely not the order of the day.  I bought three snowflake plants to cheer up the entrance to the annex for my mother-in-law when she moved in 26 years ago.  Now we have this magnificent clump.

We chose narcissus to be out at different stages, so that the flowering period lasts as long as possible.  Dead-heading the earlies is not such a chore when there are fresh blossoms and more buds to come around.

One garden plant I had not known in my childhood, because of the lack of chalk soil, is the euphorbia family.  In this garden in particular I'm delighted that the plants love it so much they self seed and grow spectacularly.

More yellows are provided by mahonia flowers, and many primroses - also self seeded.  I brought only a handful from our previous garden 27 years ago, and the damp conditions underroot suit them well.

For years we have had visiting deer who find tulips delicious, and we have stuck to daffodils in order to avoid pain at seeing neatly chopped stems when anticipating the opening of buds.  Now, however, we and our neighbour have fenced the whole area, so last year I planted a few species tulips, which today have braved the icy air.  They go so well with their neighbouring euphorbia.

Bergenia and hellebores provide a range of pink tones, as well as all that new growth which starts out red or pink before declaring itself green.

Last year also we planted 100 fritillary bulbs in the rough grass.  It is so difficult to spot them, but I have found a few.  Patience once more I hope will be rewarded - I just hope that the pesky grey squirrels and the jays have not dug up too many bulbs over winter.

There is so much to admire at this time of year when the speed of growth can astonish and delight.  But there is also evidence of other elements in Nature's complexity: the fox has been feasting, and frequently returns to the same patch of grass where there is evidence of a supper of crow and pigeon.

And the unnatural green stop-gap is evidence of storm Doris a couple of weeks ago when two fence panels were violently flung open like the double doored exit of a furious Boreas.  It was fortunate that there were no small children going to school along the path that day as it was the half term holiday.

Isn't it curious that despite Nature's extraordinary range of greens it is so difficult to make a green that looks natural.

The next big project

It's not the beginning, because apart from the idea, the making started with the lino prints.  But now I have 25 pieces of printed fabric to begin the stitching.  There was a little remedial work, which I've described in my work blog, and now I'm making decisions about thread colours - before embarking on the Grand Projet. 

Is it a kind of madness which has me hooked on hand stitching?  I've designed a whole made up of 5 x 5 pieces sized approximately 38x33cm (15x13"), each filled with hand stitching in fine silk.  The fabric is cotton lawn which at least will be easier on my fingers.  I will also be stitching other projects for a change of scene - and at some point trying out printing with my otherwise redundant pasta machine (see Jac's blog for a brilliant idea).  So, will I have finished Soliloquy (the project pictured) before next Spring - I wonder.