tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36491746624325142472024-03-13T14:57:18.942-07:00Boomslang PoetryThe website of Kate Noakes, writer.Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.comBlogger453125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-64425788209291421302023-11-27T05:42:00.000-08:002023-11-27T05:42:53.597-08:00Academic Honours<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb1vYVcjiSgTtFkmvpLRKgnjL2JSDYYh5qBdPfcJ8_4H6QFI__qaPM0Q09zdh5gR0HwuSWn5S-oZKmffsxS5yUXwX5w4WwUXuwBSQB3rS6pXT3XJs6LQ7gOUcEuS3-Wth-QTV-peVddVQ8TCjlRUFHVxbU3u-Ssl4bglaGv3FziL4t0X3az0V9jYydHmQ/s4032/IMG_5523.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb1vYVcjiSgTtFkmvpLRKgnjL2JSDYYh5qBdPfcJ8_4H6QFI__qaPM0Q09zdh5gR0HwuSWn5S-oZKmffsxS5yUXwX5w4WwUXuwBSQB3rS6pXT3XJs6LQ7gOUcEuS3-Wth-QTV-peVddVQ8TCjlRUFHVxbU3u-Ssl4bglaGv3FziL4t0X3az0V9jYydHmQ/s320/IMG_5523.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />I am absolutely thrilled and delighted to do some serious showing off - today my PhD was confirmed. So, I can officially call myself Doctor Noakes.<p></p><p>It's been three years of hard work researching and writing about poetry and the breath. I have written a new book of poems called <i>Sublime Lungs,</i> which explores my asthma, and breath and breathing topics over a wide number of geographies and chronologies. Hopefully it will appear in print in the next couple of years. Publisher willing. Additionally, I have written a full academic thesis looking at the topic through the lens of health humanities and focusing on the work of Charles Olson, Elizabeth Bishop, Elaine Feinstein, and Dannie Abse.</p><p>Many thanks are due to my splendid supervisor, Peter Robinson. I can thoroughly recommend Reading University as a great place to undertake a creative writing PhD.</p><p>Having started work during the Covid pandemic and spending lockdown days very firmly in front of the computer, I am glad to be able to now lift my head rather proudly into the air of new and exciting poetry things. Watch this space!</p>Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-51106007304976781602023-11-17T07:18:00.000-08:002023-11-17T07:22:25.932-08:00Busy times<p>Busy times mean little time for this website. I am sorry, dear readers, I've been neglecting you at lot this year. My excuse is that I've been travelling - a month in Denmark - plus house selling, house hunting, doing a great number of readings all over the country for <i>Goldhawk Road,</i> and finishing my PhD. So consider this a pre-New Year's resolution to do some more writing and reviewing here.</p><p>Quick tips on some current art shows while I'm at it then:</p><p><b><a href="https://www.royalacademy.org.uk/exhibition/marina-abramovic"></a></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Qzd0xM3eFXRE4coTCLHgA2osn7-FHIqPBxXAg3Q67BuAgK9MdTefsO-KyyjXgmfKofY_RbU6RwmlGdOXZbfuP5T25gOLb0-nAmAnRXKcVwco__qbB2bHq4ZN9rA7x86r9Gu2sDT1Jv75nBtP3y3pjGEkRlcB1Hn3W_7VvsAl06hRBETqpjAoJVgnxPg/s4032/1024C860-8B11-40BE-BDC2-5A972333E7F9.heic" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Qzd0xM3eFXRE4coTCLHgA2osn7-FHIqPBxXAg3Q67BuAgK9MdTefsO-KyyjXgmfKofY_RbU6RwmlGdOXZbfuP5T25gOLb0-nAmAnRXKcVwco__qbB2bHq4ZN9rA7x86r9Gu2sDT1Jv75nBtP3y3pjGEkRlcB1Hn3W_7VvsAl06hRBETqpjAoJVgnxPg/s320/1024C860-8B11-40BE-BDC2-5A972333E7F9.heic" width="320" /></a></b></div><b><br /><a href="https://www.royalacademy.org.uk/exhibition/marina-abramovic">Marina Abramovic </a></b>at the RA - seriously not to be missed this one. And do make sure you interact with the doorway - it was a very weird feeling squeezing into the gallery between two naked people. I can't really describe it, except that it was oddly exhilarating. <p></p><p>Pity the artist is unable to do much, if anything, herself due to ill health, so it's all other performers, but the video work etc. is great. Best to see some film of her explaining the work before you go to make the most of it. There are plenty on Youtube. That or read one of her books - I enjoyed the Art/File one.</p><p><a href="https://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-britain/sarah-lucas">Sarah Lucas</a> at Tate Britain - I'd give this a miss, if I were you. Early student work from decades ago is looking rather jaded and frankly, boring. Plus it's only four rooms. However, if you're there don't miss the new painting by <b>Chris Ofili </b>of the staircase, which is a magnificent memorial to Grenfell amongst other things. We'll be enjoying this for the next decade, I'm sure.</p>Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-28531552974226347832023-07-03T03:23:00.001-07:002023-07-03T03:49:15.714-07:00Anselm Kiefer at White Cube, Bermondsey<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXlGiB1WBNZFaOBzc3ckjUa9wPsSZ41IKEHq3uzWLZPGENQCjmHXiE9njLAjnO0wrBwBm_0BqYVD40_OthtySGJn622_yU0AHOO1u7otVQ1keKLQteubxMHiLIuBPyNuU0ecg5hX0cEXcbJFcvDvUIVcVqscBcH2O3P9Jnu8ieWnMdu8hkphFO9NDhYds/s4032/861AA10E-D6B2-4EE9-AF5E-22B1F6E78755.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXlGiB1WBNZFaOBzc3ckjUa9wPsSZ41IKEHq3uzWLZPGENQCjmHXiE9njLAjnO0wrBwBm_0BqYVD40_OthtySGJn622_yU0AHOO1u7otVQ1keKLQteubxMHiLIuBPyNuU0ecg5hX0cEXcbJFcvDvUIVcVqscBcH2O3P9Jnu8ieWnMdu8hkphFO9NDhYds/s320/861AA10E-D6B2-4EE9-AF5E-22B1F6E78755.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Oh, this is an astonishing show. Kiefer has filled every inch of <a href="https://www.whitecube.com/gallery-exhibitions/anselm-kiefer-finnegans-wake">White Cube</a> with paintings, installations and vitrines full of objects, hand written quotes and on and on, all in response to that most complex of James Joyce's oeuvre, <i>Finnegan's Wake.</i> It is a wonder of debris and dust provoking comparison to some decaying museum of curiosities and the heavy smell of oil paint fills the air. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu23b2No-NFruM1oO9rCHj1jKtxs12FNnHAMBw6Giq4LYkBvo4RSLb1Pk-ei-_H97MtYwGZUnn5b7AL4BEkUkJNxSxWpUAqQC8uXtFXErfzNwc8KqFg4Is0sEQVe5x_Eh4ro6yCvFtj2rqSAh6rIPlRxD4zS6K7rxG7HBIUupKq3wjzjxSEZsnSov1fnA/s4032/6236AB5A-AFBF-4743-A1F3-AA9676561E91.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu23b2No-NFruM1oO9rCHj1jKtxs12FNnHAMBw6Giq4LYkBvo4RSLb1Pk-ei-_H97MtYwGZUnn5b7AL4BEkUkJNxSxWpUAqQC8uXtFXErfzNwc8KqFg4Is0sEQVe5x_Eh4ro6yCvFtj2rqSAh6rIPlRxD4zS6K7rxG7HBIUupKq3wjzjxSEZsnSov1fnA/s320/6236AB5A-AFBF-4743-A1F3-AA9676561E91.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Here are metal sunflowers, panoramas of folk and characters from Joyce. Coincidences of post war Germany (Kiefer was born in 1945) and present day Ukraine abound, or is that just me? Kiefer says debris is hope. I'm not so sure.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixyyvXGLfYWpxjL44m3AvzfC7FQnayUd9WMECIg_Qkrz6Z1_i9V_6DKjcqB82d_5Z9MShTCWWM2d0SK8boKUVFd-XmTf04upwiJ2eWmd-QTlHyEjsivYeiATtYWoFKv1byZY-tqDdEPjFS6wN2K-ZO549nsotsZ2SIC82EiVY4rZoTZqtbQQRpXeaxCb0/s4032/DC47FE82-D7E0-4AE1-B483-EA127668940F.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixyyvXGLfYWpxjL44m3AvzfC7FQnayUd9WMECIg_Qkrz6Z1_i9V_6DKjcqB82d_5Z9MShTCWWM2d0SK8boKUVFd-XmTf04upwiJ2eWmd-QTlHyEjsivYeiATtYWoFKv1byZY-tqDdEPjFS6wN2K-ZO549nsotsZ2SIC82EiVY4rZoTZqtbQQRpXeaxCb0/s320/DC47FE82-D7E0-4AE1-B483-EA127668940F.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Most amazing is the room containing the eleven paintings of the Liffey that Kiefer invented from his childhood memories of the upper Rhine. They are marvels of trees, reflections and gold in a perpetual and perfect sunset. I stared and stared. They are a joy. Joining them is a roomful of impossible books made of lead, illegible and their pages difficult to turn. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghLrPduZtnMpD0rSFjTiLtwaM8F8ROJYnnrS822ty4upW3Uzcu7Z-J1T04tbkfCsbAvzwxUADFZZdHKooBvXFULiZ61g01MPZkngyWxRJHPT8GuzuRxUDtVzyyHr-HILdngc8wYQvpkj_zU3l4ktqNlhdAskkHSXD65ykdBOuzID52mwzG6VR1CHaH4dY/s4032/4BD17D1A-07B9-45F7-A1B4-740895A2EA1A.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghLrPduZtnMpD0rSFjTiLtwaM8F8ROJYnnrS822ty4upW3Uzcu7Z-J1T04tbkfCsbAvzwxUADFZZdHKooBvXFULiZ61g01MPZkngyWxRJHPT8GuzuRxUDtVzyyHr-HILdngc8wYQvpkj_zU3l4ktqNlhdAskkHSXD65ykdBOuzID52mwzG6VR1CHaH4dY/s320/4BD17D1A-07B9-45F7-A1B4-740895A2EA1A.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />An inspiring homage mixed with the contents of Kiefer's studio and referencing many of his earlier pieces. No need to have read the source. Get there soon, it ends on 20 August. You really won't be disappointed.<p></p>Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-39614361795124656892023-05-18T08:53:00.000-07:002023-05-18T08:53:02.719-07:00Midlands Explorer - Wightwick Manor<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZAFYLdiawsh2p37w8KWgZew-qenXwR8P8l8bD7NjmVmtYgV5Bh9izEQtWtTDpOfUotYNL5GX0mksS8ZOWOzUEdgQipQQ-J--gOTPuoaixLMuDPZwXwIpigDwZb3i3BHIpp5ypwemoucxOunhW3tmuQilUm1oFTZ6d-VRxcfz3xDx-x0wVrwKnmky/s4032/6A34C88F-BBBE-44A6-992A-2C22F06240B3.heic" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZAFYLdiawsh2p37w8KWgZew-qenXwR8P8l8bD7NjmVmtYgV5Bh9izEQtWtTDpOfUotYNL5GX0mksS8ZOWOzUEdgQipQQ-J--gOTPuoaixLMuDPZwXwIpigDwZb3i3BHIpp5ypwemoucxOunhW3tmuQilUm1oFTZ6d-VRxcfz3xDx-x0wVrwKnmky/s320/6A34C88F-BBBE-44A6-992A-2C22F06240B3.heic" width="320" /></a></div><br />Here is all the fake Jacobean architecture you could want. It's a late-Victorian creation and it fooled me, a little bit. But if you don't come <a href="https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/visit/birmingham-west-midlands/wightwick-manor-and-gardens">here</a> for the house and lovely gardens, with some splendid specimen trees if you are in the market for those, then your reward is the astonishing collection of Pre-Raphelite works collected by a later generation of the family in the 1930s. <p></p><p>The place is awash with Burne-Jones, Rosetti, Millais, and Evelyn and William De Morgan. It's hard to know where to look first. Be prepared to take a good long time going around the house and to put up with the usual over-enthusiasm from the volunteers. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDBqBXme2w3YwHahtVuIr_xTInTaYaaJU3ll-wjAL-bviOcvaSk2l0Ow49pCBGb3RErxLetxhsx8ssIywkAA8lE-_D7nPoIoeh4GB51Mu1SSOHeqfD5gCSRLjqpP4rMEuc37VDuNwji37fhehmmr02Em5inyD_ihYBN1Nl4fDjp9ldEF8T01BuzsDP/s4032/5F5FE8F0-03D4-426E-8C35-9D6E4C0C7DDA.heic" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDBqBXme2w3YwHahtVuIr_xTInTaYaaJU3ll-wjAL-bviOcvaSk2l0Ow49pCBGb3RErxLetxhsx8ssIywkAA8lE-_D7nPoIoeh4GB51Mu1SSOHeqfD5gCSRLjqpP4rMEuc37VDuNwji37fhehmmr02Em5inyD_ihYBN1Nl4fDjp9ldEF8T01BuzsDP/s320/5F5FE8F0-03D4-426E-8C35-9D6E4C0C7DDA.heic" width="320" /></a></div><br />Why is it that if you show a longer than average interest in a picture or are actually discussing it with your companion, they take that as an invitation to tell you a whole load of things you already know, and practically run across the room to do so, not caring whether they are intruding into a conversation? Beats me. Annoys me. And it happens all the time. I do wish the National Trust would remind their helpers that they are not the centre of attention and that I don't appreciate someone's arm being thrust an inch from my face.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr8mC2j1v__5hhkdIEpJ94A1VhHLRVkCOaJ7PFYRx-R2lVXzDMEnNbhj0DSHNXJNE6BnEdzyNw1N1WX6GnOeLr5PrUAk0WdYOC4kqaVqUBEJ_Ps0JRZZFt9YpuuVHLmMzUFWRpvbUf9WvB200oHEAEz7x2G8GVKZBCHlXzbPN7btcP1uIJ8C4DfDd9/s4032/1E1F5534-FA30-40A9-BC95-26C9248D28F8.heic" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr8mC2j1v__5hhkdIEpJ94A1VhHLRVkCOaJ7PFYRx-R2lVXzDMEnNbhj0DSHNXJNE6BnEdzyNw1N1WX6GnOeLr5PrUAk0WdYOC4kqaVqUBEJ_Ps0JRZZFt9YpuuVHLmMzUFWRpvbUf9WvB200oHEAEz7x2G8GVKZBCHlXzbPN7btcP1uIJ8C4DfDd9/s320/1E1F5534-FA30-40A9-BC95-26C9248D28F8.heic" width="320" /></a></div><br />Bof! On with the art, some of which you have to strain your neck to look at, as it is hung in exactly the place the family had it and given the don't cross this line ropes, it is sometimes out of comfortable eye reach. There is too much to choose from, so I'll take just the one portrait by Millais of Effie Gray with foxgloves. It's easy to miss in a hallway, but it is the important painting that signals their love and her bravery to get away from the cruelty of Ruskin. Fabulous.<p></p>Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-2018074504245877172023-05-17T10:05:00.000-07:002023-05-17T10:05:32.080-07:00Hidden London - Looking for Dylan<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4yDLswuHgikQl7tNxiRXtVl7Yxh3UvpEf6rLj_6jKA274YthezOLkH6Zt5053fS5TPzK5YAC0sfutJnQV0_eHka9Ct4cAWdelf8UcnofdJ2GHHA1TQGg6epN3DLM9wsX1gznxkarCyE3ncz98l6zFFbLqOLqfOJ8eMKZdejH1bgZjK96gySxeGpZ9/s4032/FB939C0E-BDDC-442A-86EB-A5456E9C4644.heic" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4yDLswuHgikQl7tNxiRXtVl7Yxh3UvpEf6rLj_6jKA274YthezOLkH6Zt5053fS5TPzK5YAC0sfutJnQV0_eHka9Ct4cAWdelf8UcnofdJ2GHHA1TQGg6epN3DLM9wsX1gznxkarCyE3ncz98l6zFFbLqOLqfOJ8eMKZdejH1bgZjK96gySxeGpZ9/s320/FB939C0E-BDDC-442A-86EB-A5456E9C4644.heic" width="240" /></a></div><br />The 14th of May annually is <a href="https://www.discoverdylanthomas.com/news-events/international-dylan-thomas-day">Dylan Thomas day</a>. It's not his birthday. It's not his death day. It's the date <i>Under Milk Wood </i>was first read on stage in New York. And why not commemorate that? Feeling anti-social this year, I decided to make my own little pilgrimage to somewhere very much off the beaten track of all things Dylan. No boat house in Laugharne. No Wheatsheaf in Fitzrovia. I look myself down to the river not far from home. <p></p><p>Dylan and his family lived at 13, Hammersmith Terrace in the winter of 1941-42 and on into the spring of 1942. It's a five storey Georgian terraced house that backs directly onto a famous stretch of the Thames. Lots of artists have lived around there over the years (Eric Ravillious, Emery Walker, A.P. Herbert who owned number 13 and invited the Thomases to stay, and William Morris had his press very nearby). </p><p>Next door at number 12, can this be conicidence to his choice of studio/bedsit? was apparently the birthplace of his wife, Caitlin MacNamara. </p><p>I look up at the typical London brick and wonder what Dylan got up to in Hammersmith. His carefully collated <i>Collected Letters</i> helpfully supplies some answers from the few he wrote from this address. He was writing, but only in the time left to him after his work for a film company producing short films for the Ministry of Information.</p><p>Dylan hated London at this point where 'even the sun's grey... the grey gets in your eyes so that a bit of green nearly blinds you and the thought of the sea makes you giddy as you cross the road like a bloody beetle,' and his colleagues odious 'straw men, sponge and vanity boys, walking sacks full of solid vinegar and pride, all the menagerie of a world very rightly at war with itself (And even now the ink is spitting.)' (May 1942) </p><p>And he hated his poverty: 'You don't know, I suppose, anyone with any furniture stored in London and who would want to give it to a good home? The only things I have are a deckchair with a hole in it, half a dozen books, a few toys and an old iron. These would not fill even a mouse's home. It is very good sometimes to have nothing; I want society, not me, to have places to sit in and beds to lie in; and who wants a hatstand of his very own? But sometimes on rainy, nostalgic Sunday afternoons, after eating the week's meat, it would, however cowardly, whatever a blanketing of responsibility and conscience, be good to sprawl back on one's own bourgeois chair, bought slippers on one's trotters.' (May 1942)</p><p>Although writing such as this has always to be read realising his teasing use of hyperbole for dramatic effect. So there you have it. He was miserable and fed up and often on the move. Sounds very much like typical Dylan-times. I hope none of this rubs off on me this week as I am rather buoyant and pretty happy.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Further reading</p><p>Paul Ferris, <i>Dylan Thomas: The Collected Letters</i> (London: J.M.Dent, 1985)</p>Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-90210079970117654122023-05-11T05:09:00.001-07:002023-05-17T06:06:16.700-07:00Midlands Explorer - Moseley Old Hall<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEP2aAZ5MkiUDXwyXanDv6guI6jbP_QgSi3t-fZOsNQ27CQAQws6i1BAeGMpvyIgG82lsdV8jRVq0TnFr4p8iJPNfrprdlS-ReYpVU0QRdGpUXaxb3LUvSPpG_giUke0nKymc1lN9UZMt2U3kh2WPDcwhGz8rZ7sW0i52aCGk0hjb-QVrhibD1qR2c/s4032/420AAC1B-EE54-4830-A329-808AE6002F98.heic" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEP2aAZ5MkiUDXwyXanDv6guI6jbP_QgSi3t-fZOsNQ27CQAQws6i1BAeGMpvyIgG82lsdV8jRVq0TnFr4p8iJPNfrprdlS-ReYpVU0QRdGpUXaxb3LUvSPpG_giUke0nKymc1lN9UZMt2U3kh2WPDcwhGz8rZ7sW0i52aCGk0hjb-QVrhibD1qR2c/s320/420AAC1B-EE54-4830-A329-808AE6002F98.heic" width="320" /></a></div><br />I tried my best to avoid all things royal this past weekend - don't get me started on the subject - but what happens when you take yourself off to a 17th century Manor House near Wolverhampton, is that you end up tripping over them. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoyAJXYOqOqjDWbnYZhpKP-zO6TZbdkTIVfk9CenEN1ID7QjDh4DTEVSguBtWxM5U7Soc4JO1k2pWsaKMU86V41Skf43mC3YLHDrilb4QiWO7M1DzQHcnW3Q5iLqarBdCKKzBJlWc613YV-sKShCUQL6dfTFABdR_FjBkUmHehhbeNODFEZ_d0dT9V/s4032/BFB4033D-36B0-46F8-8FD8-406F330A58E4.heic" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoyAJXYOqOqjDWbnYZhpKP-zO6TZbdkTIVfk9CenEN1ID7QjDh4DTEVSguBtWxM5U7Soc4JO1k2pWsaKMU86V41Skf43mC3YLHDrilb4QiWO7M1DzQHcnW3Q5iLqarBdCKKzBJlWc613YV-sKShCUQL6dfTFABdR_FjBkUmHehhbeNODFEZ_d0dT9V/s320/BFB4033D-36B0-46F8-8FD8-406F330A58E4.heic" width="320" /></a></div><br />In this case the encounter was with the future Charles II during his flight from defeat at the battle of Worcester in 1651. Having hidden in the famous oak tree, he was given shelter by the Catholic family <a href="https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/visit/shropshire-staffordshire/moseley-old-hall">here,</a> even hiding in the priest hole between the house's upper and lower floors under the garde-robe when Parliamentarian forces came calling, before making his escape via a very circuitous route through England and across the Channel to France. Pity he came back.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-TmRxjf8MJBN39Gba99QGjoSI5-SsKn7rXkXQTmp000Owjujw7RsZFcObNDdPM40ebltd6lrxQSaCrtz8MXMUOSMMxtd0VsNlqf3rtpHZq0fIDHM2VyqLHRcWdQrNbD32pTONQDSzdOef_bz5SQJO-UqHlAZC4DVpcp_gRRRZzSqMggU4wBWyV_wd/s4032/1C55253C-73BD-4C06-87EB-EB84675A74D1.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-TmRxjf8MJBN39Gba99QGjoSI5-SsKn7rXkXQTmp000Owjujw7RsZFcObNDdPM40ebltd6lrxQSaCrtz8MXMUOSMMxtd0VsNlqf3rtpHZq0fIDHM2VyqLHRcWdQrNbD32pTONQDSzdOef_bz5SQJO-UqHlAZC4DVpcp_gRRRZzSqMggU4wBWyV_wd/s320/1C55253C-73BD-4C06-87EB-EB84675A74D1.heic" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih67tF4wkCkXblC6sD01_3FDlCjd6t1nNTpo3EXjBb_8H-Fcy62TCT3S8hP-CzZAGBjrHwc4zbDj7Op9QdECZn3pQs4YZSPdUXtOLwOfX7iX2mJ7IxuCGr2W1i70IvO6OV56BJNFHDg-x6fMnm5za4iqY2T6XDaUN5Kgle3NbX8encTz35zdboDZBM/s4032/928E414E-341D-492E-8E4A-09DD5A982243.heic" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih67tF4wkCkXblC6sD01_3FDlCjd6t1nNTpo3EXjBb_8H-Fcy62TCT3S8hP-CzZAGBjrHwc4zbDj7Op9QdECZn3pQs4YZSPdUXtOLwOfX7iX2mJ7IxuCGr2W1i70IvO6OV56BJNFHDg-x6fMnm5za4iqY2T6XDaUN5Kgle3NbX8encTz35zdboDZBM/s320/928E414E-341D-492E-8E4A-09DD5A982243.heic" width="240" /></a></div><br />On a small enough scale to imagine living in it, Moseley Old Hall is a delight of wooden interiors, including chapel in the attic disguised as a school room, pleasant parlours and bedrooms, and a lovely knot garden. Most impressive were the stump work embroideries of which there were many, along with the Royal and Parliamentary propaganda. <p></p>Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-50340007184094861472023-05-10T03:59:00.002-07:002023-05-10T03:59:36.904-07:00Midlands Explorer - The Barber Institute, University of Birmingham<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGh6TIMouqKdklXV8D_HKV7Ln4uPWpGQ8pMCWY1pOjWB_48aQRqJvBYtRyzR-t8g2LobTFxci95GZxz7LzctNKrwE7PUdkLqGrAJdqJ8qMBBH-wzAE-SVGkjVY-qsiUeQYJdgKeCEMl3dNMhDVRn-9xJYHj2kRsq-UuRVg3HLbJDLcggmnB-ArceQX/s4032/DDDCFB57-35ED-472C-84AC-2BF5C70BFEF0.heic" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGh6TIMouqKdklXV8D_HKV7Ln4uPWpGQ8pMCWY1pOjWB_48aQRqJvBYtRyzR-t8g2LobTFxci95GZxz7LzctNKrwE7PUdkLqGrAJdqJ8qMBBH-wzAE-SVGkjVY-qsiUeQYJdgKeCEMl3dNMhDVRn-9xJYHj2kRsq-UuRVg3HLbJDLcggmnB-ArceQX/s320/DDDCFB57-35ED-472C-84AC-2BF5C70BFEF0.heic" width="240" /></a></div><br />In purpose built Art Deco, all polished marble and clean lines, t<a href="https://barber.org.uk">he Barber Institute of Fine Art</a> is on the campus of Birmingham University. It's free-to-visit collection, gathered by the wealthy Barber family, ranges from Mediaeval religious paintings to the turn of the twentieth century art. Along the way there is work by Botticelli, Bruegel the Younger, Rodin, Degas, Pissarro, Van Gogh, Monet, Sickert, Magrite and on and on. <p></p><p>When I say work, I mean one or possibly two examples thereof. So, yes, it's small, but it is perfectly formed and a great way to spend an afternoon sampling four hundred or so years of painting and sculpture. </p><p>Whilst there are only four painting by women artists, one of them is an absolute jewel. Countess Golovina by Elisabeth Vigee-LeBrun is a delight of post revolutionary French portraiture. I enjoyed drinking in her smile for a good long time. </p>Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-15819893331307138822023-04-10T06:17:00.002-07:002023-04-10T06:31:12.824-07:00Hidden London - Strawberry Hill House<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVg-SaJa2lGYIgVduDaJKrq_MR1bjd7skawnQ6LibNuqGyYgHonCxRaFkbk5QmYFliV_caMer-Cl0gB-KbrYxdA0acVeJB02wcZST24ltQKwAmFhzaWXQMbtKleMixSPuOoxJJxg0UsfMWevgQEPD5oelQtuPkGKB-bPT8co2TxVazv6dno15Ahsty/s4032/A4F88B67-EFFF-43F1-A999-8AA39E4CF810.heic" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVg-SaJa2lGYIgVduDaJKrq_MR1bjd7skawnQ6LibNuqGyYgHonCxRaFkbk5QmYFliV_caMer-Cl0gB-KbrYxdA0acVeJB02wcZST24ltQKwAmFhzaWXQMbtKleMixSPuOoxJJxg0UsfMWevgQEPD5oelQtuPkGKB-bPT8co2TxVazv6dno15Ahsty/s320/A4F88B67-EFFF-43F1-A999-8AA39E4CF810.heic" width="320" /></a></div><br />Horace Walpole's 18th century Gothic <a href="https://www.strawberryhillhouse.org.uk">fantasy </a>is tucked away from the river in Twickenham. It fell into a ruinous state and was restored and reopened in 2010.<p></p><p>Thirteen years later and some eight years since my last visit, the exterior could do with a serious paint job. The interior is holding up well. On this Easter Sunday it was a relatively quiet place to come. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiACspbfjsYPsbM9O16HeSyMDIEEs2QA90_gxdCP1cH-q6OcWR9oDRNlxBOQz5W2W6ZUpEWcK7YedTWhTSXGdfTmHrdOBvn3Zn324t6TQGAGrDuQ5SygGfNYslmfUPoB7y-Iv0rNjt_aFdSg6UATuBxhu2D18-JE5mNaXy9hqadjz5Ibx27NW8FThA6/s4032/8EAA70D4-0CCF-468B-B992-D92028716FAC.heic" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiACspbfjsYPsbM9O16HeSyMDIEEs2QA90_gxdCP1cH-q6OcWR9oDRNlxBOQz5W2W6ZUpEWcK7YedTWhTSXGdfTmHrdOBvn3Zn324t6TQGAGrDuQ5SygGfNYslmfUPoB7y-Iv0rNjt_aFdSg6UATuBxhu2D18-JE5mNaXy9hqadjz5Ibx27NW8FThA6/s320/8EAA70D4-0CCF-468B-B992-D92028716FAC.heic" width="240" /></a></div><br />A sunny day with others elsewhere meant we were unbothered by our fellow visitors and had our pick of spots in the garden for the first picnic of the year.<p></p><p>Even the guides were of the more unobtrusive kind. I hate being told the blindingly obvious or the readily researchable.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaVcBUI_LZ97Ah-dbykvHvV7UKzcve8EQ76SqJayhXsT9DU1Js6DWgXvl0gnen7RfuYod5f56OOgS-plnH-qNc0SZ8QQnywzF-5vmiSnT_BYQUzdZqHeoTagLLUuPQ8IG24knHUI-IV_ScLFMJMekA0rZi2jYTVc-9zV_9YVL5xv754nWNWzh_9Osf/s4032/6E487534-2870-4C36-A47F-54C3D869B3D7.heic" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaVcBUI_LZ97Ah-dbykvHvV7UKzcve8EQ76SqJayhXsT9DU1Js6DWgXvl0gnen7RfuYod5f56OOgS-plnH-qNc0SZ8QQnywzF-5vmiSnT_BYQUzdZqHeoTagLLUuPQ8IG24knHUI-IV_ScLFMJMekA0rZi2jYTVc-9zV_9YVL5xv754nWNWzh_9Osf/s320/6E487534-2870-4C36-A47F-54C3D869B3D7.heic" width="240" /></a></div><br />I love the garish bling of the house. It is mad, really bonkers. Yet one might imagine living there. A pity then that the furnishings and objet were scattered in a 19th century auction.<p></p><p>Go if you love gold, trope l'oil, stained glass and fabulous fireplaces, or want to see a first edition of the Castle of Otranto. Not cheap, but where is these days?</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-23937489837829515622023-03-03T01:19:00.004-08:002023-03-03T01:19:40.587-08:00Forthcoming reading<p> I'm delighted to be reading with these guys in Reading at the end of April. Do please come along. It's free.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOaZOiscBJakjwJIIVtJrxJI2nLalarJ_ynJSAYGQoyfw0f0tRYQbbJvQuvqhWCg4mPDwvjF8a38gwPg9uFR-_FSMcbdwqWzVtDsiYuo0Kqgc2dOK_e1MHN8p31lBSsOvtv9Pfst53LNuzuTfHrWiG5HePq7Na1zmE2A9jVt-sRrYb3_lnTamS5Pws/s2835/TRP_MERL_Cafe%CC%81_Poetry_launch_with_readings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1488" data-original-width="2835" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOaZOiscBJakjwJIIVtJrxJI2nLalarJ_ynJSAYGQoyfw0f0tRYQbbJvQuvqhWCg4mPDwvjF8a38gwPg9uFR-_FSMcbdwqWzVtDsiYuo0Kqgc2dOK_e1MHN8p31lBSsOvtv9Pfst53LNuzuTfHrWiG5HePq7Na1zmE2A9jVt-sRrYb3_lnTamS5Pws/w568-h303/TRP_MERL_Cafe%CC%81_Poetry_launch_with_readings.jpg" width="568" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-21585696972513813142022-10-30T01:54:00.001-07:002022-10-30T01:54:33.881-07:00Aldeburgh Poetry Festival - 4-6 November <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_1G74C0X1AKZIRi9LdB3toEDuRiWvG3GS_E_RzJBIIyNU2Iq-jXLe_rReW4HGnHOyebEvckovb8IlT5mPQ8cv7GMM0SRaVmrejlspTM4VQaRu0IY9U2eA0EQbZAmyszE9lFxLIHPH_8OaFFo8frv5t4fdc7WcZiYwM3LiPDYeZSUeD3vqirJDLqYY/s3111/Poetry%20in%20Aldeburgh_Jessica%20Jane%20Charleston_Poster%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3111" data-original-width="2042" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_1G74C0X1AKZIRi9LdB3toEDuRiWvG3GS_E_RzJBIIyNU2Iq-jXLe_rReW4HGnHOyebEvckovb8IlT5mPQ8cv7GMM0SRaVmrejlspTM4VQaRu0IY9U2eA0EQbZAmyszE9lFxLIHPH_8OaFFo8frv5t4fdc7WcZiYwM3LiPDYeZSUeD3vqirJDLqYY/s320/Poetry%20in%20Aldeburgh_Jessica%20Jane%20Charleston_Poster%201.jpg" width="210" /></a></div><br />Roll up, roll up. I am hosting the open mic on Friday 4 November at 8.30pm. Plus reading new work. Looking forward to seeing you there.<p></p><p><br /></p>Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-56730556087721837102022-07-20T09:32:00.001-07:002022-07-20T09:32:12.802-07:00Forthcoming reading at the Bloomsbury Festival - 21 October 2022<p>A little way ahead, I know, but I am reading with the fabulous Fiona Larkin at the Bloomsbury Festival this autumn. Free but please book through eventbrite here: https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/fragile-filters-tickets-382886813767</p>Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-85855639254881114812022-07-19T07:22:00.003-07:002022-07-19T07:23:34.057-07:00The Museum of Innocence - Istanbul<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPSuPo3K5u24m0DmwtQjMw8huFyMnOAY3UdDE7OJ0iNkroqo9e_T651p6HumyVHiGR-ac-Cd96JJdzfouBtQz4LCYl3_iskhRNCbGsugAwzkol4mR2ALqQ1hgQV_0bTwEKhz6sM3xPn2zF-w4_5dfn1vJHYdK1LOi1Co3GVufwQAhTNld-yWgo9WAx/s4032/C565F90A-A050-4FA7-B607-4CD28798AA3D.heic" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPSuPo3K5u24m0DmwtQjMw8huFyMnOAY3UdDE7OJ0iNkroqo9e_T651p6HumyVHiGR-ac-Cd96JJdzfouBtQz4LCYl3_iskhRNCbGsugAwzkol4mR2ALqQ1hgQV_0bTwEKhz6sM3xPn2zF-w4_5dfn1vJHYdK1LOi1Co3GVufwQAhTNld-yWgo9WAx/s320/C565F90A-A050-4FA7-B607-4CD28798AA3D.heic" width="320" /></a></div><br />When Orhan Pamuk wrote his eponymous novel, which was published in 2008, he did not have in mind that the museum would actually exist. but having collected objects from the 1990s onwards for his fictional story, he did indeed find them a home in 2012.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.masumiyetmuzesi.org/en">The museum</a><span> is housed in a 19th C building in the Cukurcama, Beyoglu district. It is as charming as it is fascinating. Listening to extracts from the novel as you tour around the display cases, all 83 of them, one for each chapter of the novel, and Kemal's 'recreated' bedroom is joyful. </span></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ_jj_lv9pzoO9W--bhucsF8vjEi-vgaKqZWUKp_gobvz_xwcxN2x-cJHo86L4A1Ia1D38CRwFLUHbiZ-6iS6iIXPWkzDCXrqX1u8jcZnCP5o5vWHzzknmeZMkuGwK0blWiquCmPQBYO_8kQ-YzBJduireraXiYAhU3K8fnt6s7c0IRU9Ofrot1Pa9/s4032/1DDB0613-BF03-4FBD-B2AF-79A849E1F757.heic" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ_jj_lv9pzoO9W--bhucsF8vjEi-vgaKqZWUKp_gobvz_xwcxN2x-cJHo86L4A1Ia1D38CRwFLUHbiZ-6iS6iIXPWkzDCXrqX1u8jcZnCP5o5vWHzzknmeZMkuGwK0blWiquCmPQBYO_8kQ-YzBJduireraXiYAhU3K8fnt6s7c0IRU9Ofrot1Pa9/s320/1DDB0613-BF03-4FBD-B2AF-79A849E1F757.heic" width="240" /></a></div><br />But the whole thing plays with your head. Here I am looking at relatively worthless things, including thousands of cigarette butts, that are only of significance because they relate to entirely fictional people. This must be the very definition of meta. Weirder still I bought a replica pair of silver earrings 'belonging' to Fusun, a non-existent woman. <p></p><p>Yet one of the posters on sale tells of an astonishing piece of real social history. It was apparently the practice in Turkey in the 1950s and 1960s to publish photographs in the newspaper of sexually transgressive women. They eyes are blacked out, but that wouldn't have stop them being recognised and publicly shamed. Women only, of course, not the men having affairs or sex before marriage. Shocking.</p><p><br /></p>Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-46748146234729964632021-07-23T03:38:00.000-07:002021-07-23T03:38:56.235-07:00Saying Goodbye to Michael Horovitz<p>How did you know Michael? people ask each other as we exchange quiet pleasantries in the necessary shade of poplar and planes trees at Kensal Green cemetery. I knew Michael a little as I am friends with his son, Adam. He was always very kind to me when we met, encouraging the writing of poetry. </p><p>Others have written at length on Michael's achievements as a poet and father of the UK's counter-culture. I shall not repeat these tributes here, rather I want to capture something of the afternoon of both celebration and grief. Funerals are awful things - those in deep sorrow trying hard to maintain their poise is too much for society to expect, but everyone grieves in their own way, I suppose.</p><p>On then to a sun-baked plot at the west gate where Michael's simple wooden coffin lies waiting for us. The lady rabbi leads the graveside ceremony with prayer and psalms, some in English, some in Hebrew. Those who share Michael's faith join in. Others of us remain attentively silent and respectful. Others we can't see watch on the Zoom live-fed. Psalm 23 I know and can recite in its old version, this modern translation trips me up with the substitution of unexpected words. No matter. </p><p>There are kind words spoken and poems read. John Agard animates his poem to Michael magnificently. Niall McDevitt recalls tales of Michael and reads from his beloved Blake, quite rightly ignoring the heckles of 'enough', which ushured in an appropriate degree of chaos to the proceedings. Adam's eulogy is a beautifully written piece touching on each aspect of Michael's life as writer, poet, artist, poetry promoter, husband/partner, and father. It is emotional, jubilant and heart-touching. And, if it's not bad taste to say so for a eulogy, a <i>tour de force</i>. </p><p>Draped in one of Vanessa Vie's shawls and topped with one of Michael's colourful flat caps, the coffin is lowered deep into the London clay. The Kaddish is said. Vanessa carefully unwraps Michael's kazoo - the anglo-saxaphone - and plays. A greater expression of grief I have never heard. It is heart-stopping.</p><p>And then it is over. We talk a little amoung ourselves - I seek out the half-dozen of my friends who are there - and move out of the oppressive thirty-degree sun, back through the shaded walk, and out into the Harrow Road and the waiting world.</p><p><br /></p><p>[No photos, I thought it poor form to take any]</p><p><br /></p>Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-84325742964950197032021-05-18T13:49:00.003-07:002021-05-18T13:50:19.521-07:00Tracey Emin/Munch at the RA<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wLiLCnWAyrY/YKQn7gBMFxI/AAAAAAAAC_o/hQ-Xx6zxoAYCgpIQYc1UXelD3zNkllmrQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/E5643C38-0CAC-44EA-9BBE-79971CEC9720.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wLiLCnWAyrY/YKQn7gBMFxI/AAAAAAAAC_o/hQ-Xx6zxoAYCgpIQYc1UXelD3zNkllmrQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/E5643C38-0CAC-44EA-9BBE-79971CEC9720.jpeg" /></a></div><br />I have waited so long to see this show - since last December when it was postponed - it was hard to believe my turn had finally come, but here we are on day two of the gallery re-openings back in the lovely quiet RA.<p></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Af23vbLidgI/YKQoDo6OCFI/AAAAAAAAC_s/VMn2zFqXr1kgSkbnwWWOa8Ok5ziKmhGXQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/89B240A0-AC79-4B61-BFA3-EEE0B6BDE186.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Af23vbLidgI/YKQoDo6OCFI/AAAAAAAAC_s/VMn2zFqXr1kgSkbnwWWOa8Ok5ziKmhGXQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/89B240A0-AC79-4B61-BFA3-EEE0B6BDE186.jpeg" /></a></div><br />Small and perfectly formed, the three rooms of paintings by artists separated by a century contain exemplary work of colour and pattern chosen by Emin. <p></p><p>The conversation in paint takes on more than echoing techniques though. It is the subject matter that climes: intense emotions writ large on canvas and paper, wrestling the facts of human pain. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xPFuu8u_QAU/YKQoPCUdvDI/AAAAAAAAC_w/E-vPM3BUSwsd1aqNOJdmilcSgdZoXgqvgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/21684C23-1D19-4F74-A2CA-B22732CA7246.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xPFuu8u_QAU/YKQoPCUdvDI/AAAAAAAAC_w/E-vPM3BUSwsd1aqNOJdmilcSgdZoXgqvgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/21684C23-1D19-4F74-A2CA-B22732CA7246.jpeg" /></a></div><br />I was deeply moved. Hurry to book a place, as although it's been held over due to the pandemic closures - lucky that - it isn't on for long. You won't be disappointed. <p></p>Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-2705295858334521552020-11-22T07:57:00.000-08:002020-11-22T07:57:21.890-08:00Ham House<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9P373xt-Ihc/X7qJRyWwmMI/AAAAAAAAC4s/_eliTDZhFhI6pUDw5LjQwEX0HRmTvxHpQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_1317.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9P373xt-Ihc/X7qJRyWwmMI/AAAAAAAAC4s/_eliTDZhFhI6pUDw5LjQwEX0HRmTvxHpQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_1317.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />Precious little open, it is a lockdown after all, but you might be forgiven for thinking otherwise as all of west London is out and about walking the high streets of Chiswick and Richmond to buy take away coffee, promenade along the river, or look for deer in the park. Booking anywhere to walk, like Kew Gardens, takes the forethought I am seldom capable of, hence, there is no chance of going there on a weekend. Instead we opted for a stroll around the gardens at <a href="https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/ham-house-and-garden">Ham House.</a> <p></p><p>The box and yew parterre, interplanted with mounds of close clipped lavender and bordered by high yew hedges, is something out of A Draughtsman's Contract - very much the perfect winter garden (picture from slightly earlier in autumn last year though). I can only imagine its beauty enhanced by a frost. The kitchen garden is all but over, except for a row of splendid netted cabbages, and the ruby chard still shining on a pretty grey day. </p><p>Very much worth the booking - it's owned by the National Trust and all its gardens remain open in this winter pandemic season. Plus coffee and a cake are still possible outside the cafe. Dress warmly, of course, and take a further stroll along a very pretty stretch of the river.</p><p><br /></p>Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-44307490818578318152020-09-16T06:37:00.001-07:002020-09-16T06:40:28.205-07:00Prospect Cottage, Dungeness<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IxCXp-herKY/X2IT-jRy6SI/AAAAAAAAC2g/bj1H7vv6vKslhDHn3xsktAxL9tqDeGbIQCLcBGAsYHQ/s6000/IMG_3490.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IxCXp-herKY/X2IT-jRy6SI/AAAAAAAAC2g/bj1H7vv6vKslhDHn3xsktAxL9tqDeGbIQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_3490.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />To complete all matters Jarman this month, we chose a hot Indian summer's day for a trip to Dungeness to visit his fabulous gravel garden (see earlier <a href="https://boomslangpoetry.blogspot.com/2020/09/hidden-london-derek-jarman-at-garden.html">Garden Museum </a>post). Whilst not exactly the best season as summer slips into autumn, there was enough in flower or just finished to have a good impression of how beautifully the shingle has been used to create shape and colour. <p></p><p>I've wanted to visit the garden for years, and more so now that this year the cottage has been saved for the nation, so this was a special treat on a perfect day.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kftkVpJbJYk/X2IUOl8aawI/AAAAAAAAC2o/JkcOapHiBzcPko0pxgX63heIuHhk9go-wCLcBGAsYHQ/s6000/IMG_3520.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kftkVpJbJYk/X2IUOl8aawI/AAAAAAAAC2o/JkcOapHiBzcPko0pxgX63heIuHhk9go-wCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_3520.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />No entry to the cottage itself as the resident gardener makes their home there, but there is plenty to contemplate on a stroll around, in and amongst the plantings, found beach objects turned to sculpture and the like. I would have welcomed a convenient bench to sit and contemplate the scene for longer, but it was roped off. No matter. The eponymous view of the nuclear power station as not awful as people make out. <p></p><p>A place of austere beauty in the shadow of concrete brutalism, and you have to be able to see loveliness without much greenery in order to enjoy it. John Donne's poem (Busy old fool...) in large letters on the side of the cottage helps.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LvCTrYUgXeo/X2IUbXIlk5I/AAAAAAAAC2s/nQbVn06u3eY9K8cFAaehG5lIiFoHelNaQCLcBGAsYHQ/s6000/IMG_3530.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LvCTrYUgXeo/X2IUbXIlk5I/AAAAAAAAC2s/nQbVn06u3eY9K8cFAaehG5lIiFoHelNaQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_3530.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />The beach extends some minutes' walk to a sharply shelving sea with views on this clearest of days of white cliffs near Folkestone and France in the far distance with cargo ships in between. <p></p><p>It was quiet: just a few garden and Jarman buffs and hardly a soul by the water. Not a place to swim, for that you need to head to the sandy and more traditional seaside delights of Camber Sands some two miles distant. </p>Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-90154062807147096532020-09-10T11:20:00.004-07:002020-09-10T11:20:49.266-07:00Gauguin and the Impressionists - Royal Academy<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hu5hwObYkwU/X1puTj4hTwI/AAAAAAAAC1s/OUHi7sXeAAkwDrHrID8IOfhL_c1U6fDkwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_4532.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hu5hwObYkwU/X1puTj4hTwI/AAAAAAAAC1s/OUHi7sXeAAkwDrHrID8IOfhL_c1U6fDkwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_4532.JPG" /></a></div>Probably the most over-promised and under-delivered exhibition I have been to in an eon. <a href="https://www.royalacademy.org.uk/exhibition/gauguin-and-the-impressionists-ordrupgaard">Masterworks from the Ordrupgaard</a> collection in Denmark, were rarely masterful. It is almost as if the Danish industrialist ran around desperately buying up pictures without bothering to check whether Monet, Sisley, Pissarro and others had actually painted well. <p></p><p>I was sorely disappointed by the whole, and by the fact that eight paintings by Gauguin do not an exhibition title make, nor does a room of pre-Impressionist works by Corot, Ingres etc. exactly endear me to the as advertised title. </p><p>Be warned this is a three room show of, OK, work, but it was hard to find any truly stand out pieces to wow me. I'm a jaded viewer of this period in art. It no longer holds much of a thrill. And I hate Renoir. I should know better.</p>Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-23166930172516773412020-09-10T11:05:00.001-07:002020-09-10T11:05:30.050-07:00Return to the British Museum - sort of<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NhTXSSC3bxY/X1pqqThDWVI/AAAAAAAAC1c/Bo4-K-XzeJ0tz92Lg-ZftwIOXVVvF6RxQCLcBGAsYHQ/s6000/IMG_3410.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6000" data-original-width="4000" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NhTXSSC3bxY/X1pqqThDWVI/AAAAAAAAC1c/Bo4-K-XzeJ0tz92Lg-ZftwIOXVVvF6RxQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_3410.JPG" /></a></div><br />The <a href="https://www.britishmuseum.org">BM </a>has reopened. So much, so good, hurrah! <p></p><p>But it's not the BM as we know it, where you can pick a few galleries on a topic of your choice and wander at your leisure. Nope. You have to follow the one way system round only the ground floor galleries. To be honest, there is only so much Egyptian statuary and so many Greek vases that one wants to look at in one lifetime. Also, the Elgin marbles, well, yes, but seen them too often, especially when the kids were little. </p><p>So, unless you have a burning desire to do all these things again, then best wait till one of the forthcoming exhibitions - on the Arctic, and Tantra - open later in the autumn. The Benin bronzes aside, I wish I had. One bonus was Grayson Perry's Memorial to the Unknown Craftsman. That was worth seeing.</p>Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-69167361463783435502020-09-10T10:53:00.002-07:002020-09-10T10:53:23.579-07:00Hidden London - Derek Jarman at the Garden Museum<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MD5ONWPl0tI/X1pmTrSMo8I/AAAAAAAAC1A/IY0oABQ4nYQRN4U9jTuP9YIi5z3vYjXbQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_4516.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MD5ONWPl0tI/X1pmTrSMo8I/AAAAAAAAC1A/IY0oABQ4nYQRN4U9jTuP9YIi5z3vYjXbQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_4516.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>In lieu of a trip to Dungeness to see the real thing, check out the recreation of Jarman's beach cottage at the hidden way <a href="https://gardenmuseum.org.uk">Garden Museum,</a> which is tucked under the shadow of Lambeth Palace in a deconsecrated church, and easily missed. <p></p><p>Paintings, small sculptures and his garden notebooks are on display along with films from the shingle garden and a series of haunting photographs, including one of him towards to end of his life showing the ravages AIDS related complications had taken on his body. Awful to see and remember the scourge AIDS was before effective drugs for HIV management. </p><p>An interesting, but tiny exhibition in which I learned that Beth Chatto and Christopher Lloyd seemed to have met Jarman on a random trip to the seaside at Dungeness, culminating in Jarman sharing his plant list with Chatto. It is this encounter and list that was the genesis of her famous gravel garden. Who knew that little nugget of garden history? </p><p>I rather liked reading in Jarman's notebook that he bought a dozen wallflowers at a boot fair for £1. So it's not just me then. More than admiring his beautiful handwriting, inked over initial pencil marks, one journal page includes a moving poem about AIDS victims with the refrain 'Cold, cold. cold they died so silently'. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VoDmF1Tswbk/X1pnz1WqpsI/AAAAAAAAC1Q/Gu38KAx-8f8Ju8aSOdzk2SK5g14w29TXQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_4517.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VoDmF1Tswbk/X1pnz1WqpsI/AAAAAAAAC1Q/Gu38KAx-8f8Ju8aSOdzk2SK5g14w29TXQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_4517.JPG" /></a></div><br />Other reason to visit the museum, which to be honest is rather dull even to me a garden nut, are the semi-tropical courtyard garden in the former graveyard packed with the kind of lush planting that might survive the average British winter, and two of its tombs. <p></p><p>William Bligh, Captain of the Bounty, is memorialised for this and as the man who took breadfruit from the South Pacific to the West Indies, but not for any of his other expeditions, or acting as governor of New South Wales. Breadfruit was meant to be a food crop for the enslaved Africans on its plantations, but the small matter of a Mutiny put pay to plants being sourced in Tahiti as the Bounty did not make it there, hence a later and more successful expedition. </p><p>A grand limestone tomb cornered by four carved trees and with scenes of exotic species and plants is that of John Tradescant, the elder who died in 1638. Plantsman and gardener, it is somewhat fitting that he ended up being part of a museum dedicated to his expert subject. </p>Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-80088442298802071702020-08-15T10:50:00.004-07:002020-08-15T10:50:56.600-07:00Returning to the gallery<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vMo5rDuop50/Xzgfe3ScelI/AAAAAAAACzc/n--3OaaNqe0wIOQ9Yk2yh8BqXuDrGPXpACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_4479.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="307" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vMo5rDuop50/Xzgfe3ScelI/AAAAAAAACzc/n--3OaaNqe0wIOQ9Yk2yh8BqXuDrGPXpACLcBGAsYHQ/w410-h307/IMG_4479.JPG" width="410" /></a></div>Like every other art lover, I've been starved of the objects of my affection for five long months. I choose that verb with care; art is literally that nuturing to me, and looking a pictures and exhibition tours and even taking myself around Casa Azul interactively is absolutely no substitute for the real thing. My joy was unbounded when the galleries reopened. Yes, one has to be organised and book in advance, even as a member, but this is simple enough.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xVVCqUR_NX4/Xzgf1-4FogI/AAAAAAAACzo/hFATLPa2vxgQpjFy_dC7dkfS7CHnU31TQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_4334.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="307" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xVVCqUR_NX4/Xzgf1-4FogI/AAAAAAAACzo/hFATLPa2vxgQpjFy_dC7dkfS7CHnU31TQCLcBGAsYHQ/w410-h307/IMG_4334.JPG" width="410" /></a></div>First off I went to White Cube in Bermondsey for <a href="https://whitecube.com/exhibitions/exhibition/cerith_wyn_evans_bermondsey_2020">Cerith Wyn Evans'</a> glass sculptures. I've always loved his flutes and, as well as one of these, there are cracked windscreens and some lovely calligraphy influenced by the Japanese paintings. Free and empty of no more than half a dozen people when I went, it was one big of sigh of relief to be back.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EFBWggObMOs/XzggAqqnDkI/AAAAAAAACzs/g8XiRo5-d_Q4EILz3R_1TXotBhxIQIc6wCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_4461.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="410" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EFBWggObMOs/XzggAqqnDkI/AAAAAAAACzs/g8XiRo5-d_Q4EILz3R_1TXotBhxIQIc6wCLcBGAsYHQ/w307-h410/IMG_4461.JPG" width="307" /></a></div>Next the Tate opened, so I've now had time to see the <a href="https://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-britain/exhibition/aubrey-beardsley">Beardsley,</a> which was only on display for a nano-second before the lock down. Again, one of the great benefits of limited numbers is that there is no straining to see the art works. Take as long as you like and people are pretty courteous at sharing the space. I spent a happy morning penis-spotting. Gone on, admit it, so will everyone who comes to this show, taking particular pleasure in the ones that missed the censoring eye of his publishers. The Salome prints are familiar, but there are a great number of other things to explore and enjoy.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TWJEzo83YOs/XzggJns_N7I/AAAAAAAACz0/GptC69HLcFU3YUOoopp1bAjhclM-jKvCACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_4477.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="307" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TWJEzo83YOs/XzggJns_N7I/AAAAAAAACz0/GptC69HLcFU3YUOoopp1bAjhclM-jKvCACLcBGAsYHQ/w410-h307/IMG_4477.JPG" width="410" /></a></div>And to round things off for the first fortnight, <a href="https://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-modern/exhibition/andy-warhol">Warhol </a>at Tate Modern, was a surprise. Just when you think you have seen every possible thing about and by Warhol, there were works that were new to me, and at least one (Marilyn's lips) that has never been exhibited in the UK before. Careful crowd control made this a very worthwhile trip. Hurrah and bravo. It is so good to be in one of my favourite places, and for it to be empty, as, if truth be told in recent years, I have found Tate Modern to be a bit of a scrum.<p></p>Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-49564745309049135472020-07-26T03:10:00.000-07:002020-07-26T03:10:19.265-07:00The Thunder MuttersI am honoured and thrilled to be included in this wonderful series of podcasts by Adam Horovitz and Becky Dellow<br />
<br />
https://the-thunder-mutters.captivate.fm<br />
<br />
Do listen in to new work from me from Lilac Elegies.Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-20723979502774762132020-03-30T07:09:00.003-07:002020-03-30T07:09:46.562-07:00Becomings - an exhibition by CSM students
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VxehmCKu5Tw/XoH9Ox6CNCI/AAAAAAAACso/ViAJDnK8bS0EptjZGn3wIO9IUqYQaS7ogCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_3258.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1190" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VxehmCKu5Tw/XoH9Ox6CNCI/AAAAAAAACso/ViAJDnK8bS0EptjZGn3wIO9IUqYQaS7ogCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_3258.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Teo Burki</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">It seems so long ago now since we were
allowed to gather together to celebrate, well, anything, so before this
splendid show disappears from the memory, here’s some impressions. Opening on
12 March at the A.P.T Gallery in Deptford, the private view was a well-attended affair with lots of bubbly, and
sushi, that proved difficult to eat whilst practicing good CV hygiene. But,
enough of the food and onto the art.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Curated by final year and some first year
MA students at Central St. Martins, in what, as it turns out now, was in effect
their final degree show, it was a sadly short-lived five day exhibition, but
one that I am very glad I caught before virus precautions closed it. Twenty
seven students showed a wide variety of work across all media from ceramic
tiles, to stone carving, to painting and video.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">I’m not going to comment on each person’s
work, rather I want to highlight those pieces that particularly appealed to me.
Art, it’s a taste thing. So, in no particular order:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Kathryn
Gee (film) & Rowan Riley (textile)</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> presented an
interesting collaboration of diaphanous embroidered textile onto which a short
series of images was projected. The piece was pleasingly hung in its own side
room, and had the benefit of having an iron spiral staircase behind it, which
serendipitously added texture to the whole. I watched the image sequence
several times and enjoyed it more on each viewing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Painting that on first encounter is precise
and perfect in its dreamy realism is the stock in trade of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Sizou Chen</b>. But look closer and you’ll see the disturbing nature of
the imagery of her young, if not pre-pubescent, girls; their bodies arranged in
un-natural poses and some with their limbs at impossible angles. They are
disruptive and deliberately challenge the viewer – why are you looking/don’t
look/ see, but look away, and so on. I found myself distinctly uncomfortable, and
that is the point, and more so when I watched her animations of the paintings.
Unsettling with a gloss of the beautiful, and nicely done.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Another woman artist presenting sexualised
images is <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Tijana Petrovic</b>. Her large
scale painting, a semi-naked back view self-portrait of a woman in her
stockings and panties, is another deliberate provocation to which I have a
conflicted feminist response. I find it troubling that a contemporary artist
would paint an image that conforms tradition and in that sense plays to the
expectations of the male gaze. I did not see how, if at all, this was a
reclaiming of this ground; there was no defiance, no head turned staring at the
viewer. Indeed the face of this woman was absent, replaced by a head full of
strawberries. Surreal? Yes sure, and beautifully executed, but I guess I wanted
more from it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">The part-printed canvases of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Eduardo Rebelo </b>are fine abstractions in
that they are all about colour. For me they conjure the bright palette of
Southern Europe and I loved their vivacity, complementarity and bold mark
making. Equally vivid is the work of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Teo
Burki </b>whose piece here is a riotous collage of paper and paint presenting a
multiplicity of pleasing images that require work on the part of the viewer.
Initially the whole is an attractive abstract, but as one moves closer and
around the canvas, one is rewarded with a number of vignettes and some very
balanced painting. It’s part Twombly meets Rothko meets Matisse, but is in fact
none of these. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0jJNWM1M2Hc/XoH9NxqcTPI/AAAAAAAACsk/g8zR9vpgqcgQ1140AZFCDMdkE_ABSujRQCEwYBhgLKs4DAMBZVoCufp8INdIP8Lo6HAI7YRw2LicLaHebzFno4zAqgQDLzHYeMcj9Hqtd-S-QD95N1YVGx_YJtey0b3SCr43moN6Aj84QJIG0ii5q2MbeTjZBZCM4g3f9qZE04RlvOqBMSa7CjjMgu2JnSiIAW3qE2E1RyHATdYi0HsdXv1Lo53WzKbLrrc1ovj4rWZ_S1G-TY3tR0YNgGKE5eDuDKHLzwabAbJLIxQ7qzOBG64SrgDXlPf4oFIEPn2pt7U8AizZOdUqjQkVQqWL_2DDEaa2CGRpG9q30A0-I34zBq4g8wVCvRK-PhC7aFIBCrn4PUuNghHtfC3tWDK5-PtoOcWF-9iaXXqO89dMD9VFgFWsCDluJJTSwckHUbU38PxTVLjbzymVccwZVIibOqpHKQ_ltz7t7KAejHUWfBwId2TzSVENNS7P-mzQPkQ0db_B7wpOaWfb4rOg9ek7VLWzaem3BXdhIkvSAaiOaMoKk3j0R-fR50aP1iSNtnWOLjOhkiJMk-peb3iy2F-dQ5CnTjpoIqZWrchLHgmI9OpqexYHVFdCOJVFh42TZovb1V8ZtoZO9_Yu1Fij4-S9YKZ-JCUkLAGySdh3RyYHqDY8OMK3_h_QF/s1600/IMG_3250.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1260" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0jJNWM1M2Hc/XoH9NxqcTPI/AAAAAAAACsk/g8zR9vpgqcgQ1140AZFCDMdkE_ABSujRQCEwYBhgLKs4DAMBZVoCufp8INdIP8Lo6HAI7YRw2LicLaHebzFno4zAqgQDLzHYeMcj9Hqtd-S-QD95N1YVGx_YJtey0b3SCr43moN6Aj84QJIG0ii5q2MbeTjZBZCM4g3f9qZE04RlvOqBMSa7CjjMgu2JnSiIAW3qE2E1RyHATdYi0HsdXv1Lo53WzKbLrrc1ovj4rWZ_S1G-TY3tR0YNgGKE5eDuDKHLzwabAbJLIxQ7qzOBG64SrgDXlPf4oFIEPn2pt7U8AizZOdUqjQkVQqWL_2DDEaa2CGRpG9q30A0-I34zBq4g8wVCvRK-PhC7aFIBCrn4PUuNghHtfC3tWDK5-PtoOcWF-9iaXXqO89dMD9VFgFWsCDluJJTSwckHUbU38PxTVLjbzymVccwZVIibOqpHKQ_ltz7t7KAejHUWfBwId2TzSVENNS7P-mzQPkQ0db_B7wpOaWfb4rOg9ek7VLWzaem3BXdhIkvSAaiOaMoKk3j0R-fR50aP1iSNtnWOLjOhkiJMk-peb3iy2F-dQ5CnTjpoIqZWrchLHgmI9OpqexYHVFdCOJVFh42TZovb1V8ZtoZO9_Yu1Fij4-S9YKZ-JCUkLAGySdh3RyYHqDY8OMK3_h_QF/s320/IMG_3250.jpg" width="251" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clara Fantoni</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Total abstraction comes in the unlikely
form of a large plastic sheet made quite by chance as the result of it being a
groundsheet for other paintings. It is the work of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Clara Fantoni</b> who has produced/found an interesting piece with both
strong and subtle marks in a secondary colour palette. She has a challenge on
her hands though as to how to preserve work in this ultimately flimsy material
without destroying it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">K Blick </span></b><span lang="EN-US">is busy exploring traditional Portuguese ceramic tile making. Here
she has decorated an alcove’s worth of tiles with playful images of dinosaurs
and other animals in what is a patchwork of Greek myth meets Jurassic park with
a crawling baby thrown in. I rather enjoyed its mysterious wit. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-US">Sculpture came in the form of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Si</b></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">â</span><span lang="EN-US">n Fan</span></b><span lang="EN-US">’s pond of perspex waterlilies, which take the representational into
the digital age, as they are in part decorated with geometric shapes for their
greens. I found the superimposed disruption of other leaf patterns and other
flowers, and their botanical impossibility strangely pleasing. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Emma Moore</b>’s stone cutting is pleasing
for its utter simplicity of line, which exposes the beauty of the natural
materials she uses. Mounting the sculpture high on steel supports is an
excellent choice to bring the sun to eye level. I also enjoyed the deliberately
partially-made marble piece tucked against the gallery wall. Work in progress
has its own merits.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Politics was represented on a large scale by <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Simon Hodgkinson</b>’s bold monochrome monotype/painting, which
dramatically counterpoints the catastrophic climate present with a possible
greener future. I enjoyed character spotting: Attenborough as god on his
central cloud, Morrison and Trump as caged dinosaurs, Greta Thunberg as
superwoman, along with a cast of endangered animals, slag heaps, pit winding
gear, solar panels and windmills. It is always a challenge to show polemic
lightly and with subtlety, and this work succeeds in this regard as it demands
close viewing to absorb the entire conceit.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">One tip I would suggest it to catalogue the
show in advance. It was a pity that there wasn’t time for this, as whilst the
artists’ CV’s were provided in a helpful brochure, there was no clue as to the
title of any of the pieces, or indeed their prices if they had been for sale.
People are pretty shy about asking the cost or work, and so it might save
embarrassment all round, if a price list can be produced. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">As to titles, I think artists in general are
missing a trick. Untitled might be a deliberate obfuscation, but I suggest it should
only be a rare one. Over-used it loses its power. More likely it might be, and
probably is in most cases, just a bit lazy. Titles are hard to write – tell me
about it - , but done well they can add to and not detract from the art work,
provide subtle or not so subtle clues to intention and meaning, and they do not
necessarily close down multiple readings. I would like to have known what all
of these works were called. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam Shepheard-Walwyn<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">And now for my star of the show. The outstanding painting for me is
that of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Samsom Shepheard-Walwyn</b>.
Only very partly influenced by Kiefer, and only in one landscape, his two other
paintings were my absolute favourite pieces for different reasons. His mythical
bird was a brilliant use of paint. The boldness with which he allowed white
paint to run in order to suggest the birds’ feathers was genius. And the
vicious dog chasing another white bird was excellently animated, teeth and all.
I’d happily have taken either of these home. Bravo.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Congratulations though to everyone<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- high quality work, very well displayed. It’s
just a real pity that not one of the tutors turned out to support their
students’ work and efforts in mounting a professional show. They could have
easily awarded the degrees on the basis of this exhibition alone. From me at
least: Distinctions all round.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-11541120152944245172020-03-06T03:54:00.000-08:002020-03-06T03:54:03.985-08:00Afternoon Tea<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7SR855KBZeM/XmI5VA8wrkI/AAAAAAAACqQ/5icpHS3-UwknOeYz2IKGOweyhFpjyxe9QCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_3986.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7SR855KBZeM/XmI5VA8wrkI/AAAAAAAACqQ/5icpHS3-UwknOeYz2IKGOweyhFpjyxe9QCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_3986.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
It's a tradition, yes, and a bizarre one. Anyone who is not British will find it hard to understand why at 4pm everyday we stop doing whatever it is we are doing, including work, and make a cup of tea. And if we miss the hour, why we tut at ourselves and catch up pronto. More than a simple cuppa is, of course, possible. Some kind of cake or bun or sweet thing is typical too. Even a biscuit will suffice for this purpose.<br />
<br />
But there's more. A cream tea involving scones and clotted cream and jam, in that order - don't trust anyone who puts cream on the jam - is a lovely indulgence beyond a toasted tea cake dripping in butter, or a muffin. And that thing in the Importance of Being Earnest about cucumber sandwiches is for real. We do actually eat these, and other fillings besides, before turning our attention to the sweet stuff. But if you want the full monty in afternoon teas you need to not eat any lunch, and not plan on eating any supper either.<br />
<br />
The best place to indulge in this lavish experience is one of the smarter hotels in London. Think The Ritz, Savoy, Dorchester or Claridges, for example, There are lesser places, but, hey, this is a once a year, special occasion treat. And be prepared to spend a pretty penny.<br />
<br />
For my birthday this year, a very dear friend took me to The Dorchester where we indulged in two kinds of tea - I chose Ceylon and then Darjeeling - plus a third - to serve as a palette cleanser, a mixture of peach, rose and green tea unfurled into a flower in a glass flagon as we ate our sandwiches. These were of cucumber, what else? as there were some to be had in the market that morning, egg, smoked salmon, chicken, and beef. All crustless, delicious and eaten with a knife and fork. It's more than a little crass to eat this kind of tea with one's fingers.<br />
<br />
Then the cake: first the cream tea with two kinds of scones, frutied and plain. And then the fancy cakes served on the traditional stand. At this point, and well over two hours in, we failed. We had simply eaten too much. Luckily it is not considered bad form to ask for a box in which to take one's cakes home. So, various fruity, sugary and chocolate confections found their way to accompanying my morning coffee for the next couple of days.<br />
<br />
This odd ritual was a throughly enjoyable way to spend an afternoon/early evening, but not one that I'd want to repeat too often, as it is hardly very good for one's health or figure.<br />
<br />
After note: Champagne is an indulgence too far for me with tea. It's not traditional and I'm a stickler, but go ahead it you have something ultra-special to toast.Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-3678818474175196712020-02-18T12:58:00.000-08:002020-02-18T13:10:32.332-08:00Hidden London - The Wallace CollectionOK, so it's not exactly a secret, being slap bang in the middle of Manchester Square behind Selfridges, but what are hidden are some gems of eighteenth and nineteenth century French (Fragonard, Corbet), British (Reynolds, Van Dyck), Spanish (Velasquez) and Italian paintings, some earlier Dutch masters (Rembrandt and co), a lot of Renaissance works, and some of the auctioned off contents of Le Petit Trianon.<br />
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<a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/8/8d/%22The_Lace-Maker%22_by_Caspar_Netscher.jpg/575px-%22The_Lace-Maker%22_by_Caspar_Netscher.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="575" height="320" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/8/8d/%22The_Lace-Maker%22_by_Caspar_Netscher.jpg/575px-%22The_Lace-Maker%22_by_Caspar_Netscher.jpg" width="255" /></a></div>
The best way to tackle this <a href="https://wallacelive.wallacecollection.org/eMP/eMuseumPlus?service=ExternalInterface&module=collection&objectId=65171&viewType=detailView">confection </a>of gilt bling furniture, objets and art is to wander and let your eye fall of the beautiful things that attract you without letting the sometimes overwhelming wall paper blind you. To my shame I have never been to this fabulous free museum before and I am glad that I have now put that right at my companion's invitation. <br />
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The thing that I most wanted to bring home was a Dutch painting called The Lace Maker - no, not that one by Vermeer, but the one by Netscher. I loved her embroidered cap, red jacket and the casual way she has kicked off her shoes. I also rather fancied any one of the collection of portrait miniatures and the gold trinket boxes. Or failing those then I would settle for one of three bronze snakes coiled in their Gordian knots.<br />
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I focussed on the art, even when it was badly hung - who puts a portrait above a door frame if it is to be seen? There are some famous things here too, like the Laughing Cavalier, who is not so much guffawing as smirking rather sarcastically, and whose vertical moustache would put the nearest hipster to shame. Plus royal and court portraits by Lawrence, society ladies by Reynolds and Fragonard's The Swing were familiar and surprisingly at home.<br />
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This was a rainy Sunday treat, which is more than can be said for our afternoon tea in the courtyard cafe as we had to queue for a table for quite a while, and for the tea for even longer, uncoordinated as it was with the cake appearing and consumed long before my pot of Darjeeling. Best avoid that.Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649174662432514247.post-77707111050089154002020-02-09T21:45:00.000-08:002020-02-09T21:45:02.544-08:00Dora Maar - Tate Modern<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aGVhJtTqgy0/XkDttIoge1I/AAAAAAAACpQ/H9D4M2u9hBQCOW0vmabe4ZH6Ic3yPPJ3QCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_3976.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aGVhJtTqgy0/XkDttIoge1I/AAAAAAAACpQ/H9D4M2u9hBQCOW0vmabe4ZH6Ic3yPPJ3QCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_3976.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Oh dear - nice commerical fashion photography and one or two surreal photographs that can claim the status of iconic, but really, a whole retrospective? I think not. And probably only because of her relationship with Picasso, and that whole revising the cannon project - fine, if the art merits it, but not here. Take a look at her paintings, watercolours etc. Not good. Not at all. There was one I loved, but only because it reminded me of the diminutive Spaniard. Hey ho. On your head be it if you go.Kate Noakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01197316141509271786noreply@blogger.com0