tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87329160567508594282024-02-07T03:55:54.673+01:00An English Artist Back From BrittanyThe life and times of an English artist now returned to her native North , an account of paintings, urban sketchings, murals, portraits,and tutoring art courses...Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.comBlogger97125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-80152035209585898872023-09-26T16:20:00.001+02:002023-09-26T16:44:18.946+02:00Over The Moor<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4mrED4LjxiO4rHgucf7zjhSMK-K3BYnZBl_40R8C1i1TR7niSfy5qAKaIM73r1lCDwEAKeZIVD_GP9kiI_EsCiBbIoBrKVLSpNm4IG4zyaQbzjf_cLWgEDgFoWpyb7Dj4vSixdx2m4FdOXKoi60ZzvXE-PtVs8TnFaxB1tgvBX-qzhPt52y-SFK6khe8" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3474" data-original-width="4776" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4mrED4LjxiO4rHgucf7zjhSMK-K3BYnZBl_40R8C1i1TR7niSfy5qAKaIM73r1lCDwEAKeZIVD_GP9kiI_EsCiBbIoBrKVLSpNm4IG4zyaQbzjf_cLWgEDgFoWpyb7Dj4vSixdx2m4FdOXKoi60ZzvXE-PtVs8TnFaxB1tgvBX-qzhPt52y-SFK6khe8" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span>By the Canal, Todmorden<p></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>It's a sunny day, so to
get out of this valley and into another, Mr. Price and I go over the
moor to Todmorden, past the composting (former maggot) factory and
the astronomy centre.</b></span><p></p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>'Tod', as it's known
round here, is a post-industrial market town in the upper Calder
valley- at one time it had the largest weaving shed in the world.</b></span></p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>I first passed through
in the Sixties when I was hitching from Leyland to see an old
school-friend at Leeds University and I recall being appalled by the
oppressive town with its blackened stone railway arches,
back-to-backs and smoky mills. I'd grown up with the wide skies and
open fields of West Lancashire and was shocked that other people
lived in this place, trapped in this narrow valley surrounded by
high, brooding moors.</b></span></p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Not so, now! You can
see the sky, many of the buildings have been cleaned up, there are
pleasant riverside and canal walks, galleries, cafés and bars...
it's increasingly a commuter town for people who work in Manchester,
Leeds, Bradford or nearby places.</b></span></p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAsd8YAd7sw43RVK37fwu6iVoHqvlI4GkhWQe13Xx3c2YNMN1nhf0q7QpxJ_GK2KCxS_jyJ-akDgxcGz5GTiCEsZKoARZORICtmoOqDhdaZpqzTx2H3K3u56U-KSW-DvYFZ1dwxd4IiKsZXnfVpEGSa6cHlikuhbQSB80SjeSU6hgJAselI-yHYvOZvuE" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2907" data-original-width="4768" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAsd8YAd7sw43RVK37fwu6iVoHqvlI4GkhWQe13Xx3c2YNMN1nhf0q7QpxJ_GK2KCxS_jyJ-akDgxcGz5GTiCEsZKoARZORICtmoOqDhdaZpqzTx2H3K3u56U-KSW-DvYFZ1dwxd4IiKsZXnfVpEGSa6cHlikuhbQSB80SjeSU6hgJAselI-yHYvOZvuE" width="320" /></a></span></b></div><b><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span> From The Golden Lion, Todmorden</b><p></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>We have a short stroll
by the river and I take pictures of some interesting decrepit sheds
which will do nicely for my ongoing shed/shack project.</b></span></p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Back in the town
centre, there's a rum-looking bunch of loud folk, drinking outside
the White Hart, which we avoid and look at the churchyard instead.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></b></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">We're perusing some
tombstones which are propped up by the path when a cheerful Bavarian
in full national dress pops his head round the corner and says “
Ahh! You're reating the grafestones!” He loves Todmorden, he
moved here recently after selling his house in York ( “Bad times,
York iss finished!”) and being able to buy two here, one for
himself and one for his son. It was Octoberfest
yesterday, he tells us, there was a big celebration at his house and
now he's on his way to The Golden Lion for “ A hair off the dog”. I mention the nearby
Hebden Bridge, a pretty tourist town. He says it's no good anymore ”Hebden Bridge iss finished!”</span></b></p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>We were originally
thinking of going to the pub ourselves but now we chicken out,
fearful that we might be forced into a heavy session, ending up
singing those jolly German drinking songs with our new friend,
shouting “Ans, zwoa, drei, g'suffa”... we have tea in a cafe
instead.</b></span></p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>I need some supplies
and go in the well-stocked friendly wholefood shop. Understandably
for such specialisation, prices are high. Outside, and after
we've distanced ourselves, Mr. Price exclaims “No wonder vegans are so
thin, they can't afford to feed themselves!!”</b></span></p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh89UcmLe6uWq5LGPkhwN2JfKGn88fy9TD78zhIiIjZzKVgsVJeQiXlz7jnvm3hIRjc50YS-dq9vVv2uyu4z6z_uVn1wwxGA4RPpCYQR32THIriqMQzM9NUTFIjlMnCFchZsWZpyk3cCGewnYj-tzOT17NUOfkj1qcfc4grgTrkRu58xdVwsbGZK29Ue78" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="522" data-original-width="1539" height="164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh89UcmLe6uWq5LGPkhwN2JfKGn88fy9TD78zhIiIjZzKVgsVJeQiXlz7jnvm3hIRjc50YS-dq9vVv2uyu4z6z_uVn1wwxGA4RPpCYQR32THIriqMQzM9NUTFIjlMnCFchZsWZpyk3cCGewnYj-tzOT17NUOfkj1qcfc4grgTrkRu58xdVwsbGZK29Ue78=w480-h164" width="480" /></a></div><br /> Canal Bridge and Rooftops, Todmorden.<p></p><p> </p>Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-47482624114703041352023-02-25T13:00:00.000+01:002023-02-25T13:00:37.565+01:00Brief Encounters<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEXsuCEXpICZW9k6UsF2yhxbJxe5BlLyf-uWlslyJpxiCYc5eacV4lqSkGS8hYswnIPQ90tzwF95BCWEWZCN6iwjBbzDYMnkGDWco2QIwk_uLIIssdA9B4XqEUa5shmyQc7-OLkac7Y5mK4FJKQzDm-hKnhgB6pklt3Y1Q0k8JFGv0bHFv1F4o4UVG/s3152/Limoges1ps600crop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1655" data-original-width="3152" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEXsuCEXpICZW9k6UsF2yhxbJxe5BlLyf-uWlslyJpxiCYc5eacV4lqSkGS8hYswnIPQ90tzwF95BCWEWZCN6iwjBbzDYMnkGDWco2QIwk_uLIIssdA9B4XqEUa5shmyQc7-OLkac7Y5mK4FJKQzDm-hKnhgB6pklt3Y1Q0k8JFGv0bHFv1F4o4UVG/w359-h196/Limoges1ps600crop.jpg" width="359" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">On the way to the
doctor's I walk down the hill to the bus-stop, past the perpetual
road works. My phone pings- it's a message from a friend, who says
“I just saw you walk past, looking super-cool”... well that's a
boost, she made an old lady very happy!</p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Two huge Clive Hurt
trucks rumble by and the old hitch-hiker in me looks at how I might
get up into the cab nowadays- it's very high, with two steps. I
wonder, idly... would I get picked up if I stuck out my thumb? And in
the cab, instead of “Yeah, I'm heading for London, meeting friends
there”, I'd have to say “Just popping to the doctors to see about
my cholesterol levels”. Perhaps not.</p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">There's a friendly fat lad waiting for the bus, and later, when the driver
swerves violently at my stop, I nearly end up in his lap. ' A soft
landing, anyway' I think.</p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Waiting at the surgery,
conversations drift by. “He was lovely, he's a lovely boy” “He
was always a bit of a teenager, though!”... “ She does Monday,
Tuesday, Wednesday”...He's such a lovely boy, we're proud of him”
…. “I could tell you some proper tales!”</p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Later, in the
chemist's, a man on his way out shouts hoarsely to the assistant “ SEE YOU
SAM! BY THE WAY, SAM, I'M CALLED SAM!!!” “ Yeah, ah know”</p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I make my way out
through 'Exit Only'. In the street I see a small girl with her mother- she's looking up, craning
her neck .”Big tree!” she exclaims, and, reaching out a tiny hand
to the trunk, says gently “Gonna stroke it'. How sweet is that?</p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">On the way homewards
back up the hill there's a young lady studying her phone outside a
corner shop. She sports a bare midriff. This is Rossendale, it's
February and 8 degrees, for goodness sake! She's just ASKING for a
dose of cystitis!</p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Pictured: A Waiting Room, (although not my doctor's)</p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-81555371277877226522020-11-19T17:30:00.000+01:002020-11-19T17:30:35.041+01:00How To Waste Money<p><br /></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Bkp4XX4QyLzeQ-Vvkaq6H2keu1XBDGcX6LWHosll577BJ5Z_mfDigVWZutuGqtjpq8V8W55y_dkWbQ8UppHlOPpIHfbMGTcCgBSGnQesOxbrIvV2inGkQwGhZitJRfGxH9iBO8oX5kI/s2048/boatlightweb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2034" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Bkp4XX4QyLzeQ-Vvkaq6H2keu1XBDGcX6LWHosll577BJ5Z_mfDigVWZutuGqtjpq8V8W55y_dkWbQ8UppHlOPpIHfbMGTcCgBSGnQesOxbrIvV2inGkQwGhZitJRfGxH9iBO8oX5kI/s320/boatlightweb.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I call in at the
studios to measure up the big table we've got, to see if it'll fit in
my workroom at home.</p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Paddy's there, with his
open-air head and Cornish twinkle. He invites me into his space to
look at a new painting- it's a wide landscape with one of his big
skies.</p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The room's full of
stuff and I admire a little faded and worn wooden boat lying wrecked
on a heap of debris. He kindly gives it to me... “ I found it in
the road,” he says, “Just lying there.”</p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The boat's fitted with
an ugly plastic holder for a bulb and he donates the remains of a
lampshade to go on top. “I'll re-cover that.” I say, knowing I
won't.</p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">When I get home with my
treasures, Mr. Price agrees that the bulb-holder must go and offers to
remove it, slashing his finger with a blade in the process.</p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I send off for a new
holder, nicely retro with a touch of the trendy industrial. There's a
plug and real fabric cord- none of your plastic tat! and I can use
one of those bulbs where you can see the filaments. “The ones that
make it look darker” quips Mr. Price.</p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Anyway, think I, it'll
look really cool on the French cupboard and, when we're allowed,
visitors will gaze upon it in admiration.</p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">It comes the next day.
Oh no, it's enormous, almost half as big as the boat! It'll look
really stupid! I'm disappointed- I might as well have taken a match
to a fiver and a tenner!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkKXyR4t8mJck1Ded8QBRXXb8HyYCyjLyneg5EwvRGwVqB_5AJvgEO0pOwQpwa8d62073eH4BKsrlaWbmcInQQ-gKG0tChfmErX51dgHPdX-9P-X7DBPdJHAC4jZWocmdIuLspuQIJ4h8/s2048/bulbholderweb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkKXyR4t8mJck1Ded8QBRXXb8HyYCyjLyneg5EwvRGwVqB_5AJvgEO0pOwQpwa8d62073eH4BKsrlaWbmcInQQ-gKG0tChfmErX51dgHPdX-9P-X7DBPdJHAC4jZWocmdIuLspuQIJ4h8/s320/bulbholderweb.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">After unsuccessfully
hanging it in various places round the house- I consign it to a
drawer.</span></div><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> It'll come in use
sometime. '!It's <i>bound </i>to go somewhere!'</p>
<p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</p>Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-73217773119819550792020-04-29T18:23:00.001+02:002020-04-29T18:23:44.833+02:00Taking to Drink
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<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Three Co-op Beers</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
One effect of the
Coronavirus, apparently, is that the nation's alcohol consumption has
increased.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
If this is applies to
you, you could nip to your local Co-op store and buy some of these three Manchester beers that have my images on. How they got there is
a long story. I'd tell you but I'd have to kill you afterwards.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I'm rightly proud of
them- the first beer-labels with my drawings on were on bottles of my
home-made 'Tyneside Brown Ale', but that doesn't count really.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I've made my own wine,
too, and fondly remember my first attempt. It was dandelion and had
the same golden sheen of late afternoon in the small meadow where I
picked the flowers. Sunshine in a glass, or should that read
moonshine?</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Winemaking</span><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Being new to this area
our early evening explorative walks bring a sadness when passing
closed pubs “We could have had a half and a bag of crisps”... Mr
Price's test of a pub's worthiness is to ask if they serve a dark mild. This request is particularly cruel when demanded of younger barmaids, who
crumple under interrogation and nervously try to suggest that “this bitter's
a bit darker than that one...??”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
On one of these
outings our neighbour's busy gardening behind her house and we ask
how she's coping with the lock-down . She's alright, she assures us,
she's got her gin and a bit of marijuana to see her through.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I've yet to find any
government statistics on the increased consumption of Herbal Jazz
Cigarettes, but I'll let you know when I do!</div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />
<br />Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-91067993327183076482020-04-04T17:10:00.000+02:002020-04-04T17:10:47.068+02:00All Kinds of Kindnesses<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b><span style="font-size: x-small;">Waiting in the car while Mr. Price does the shopping.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span>
We're living in disturbing times, and I wish you all well.<br />
After the unsettling questions raised by Brexit and the general election, we're thrust into the surreal netherworld of the Covid 19 virus with its restrictions and tragedies.<br />
<br />
We've just moved house, to add to the unease. But, despite being surrounded by boxes and hampered by that big, temporarily redundant new cooker in the doorway, the situation brings its lighter moments.<br />
<br />
I'm bending over in our tiny garden tackling some vicious invasive plants when a man calls over the fence, "Jean! Jean?.... oh, is Jean in the house then?" I say "I hope not, we just moved in!"<br />
Jean's his aunty and he lived here as a child, his parents had the greengrocer's shop which is now my studio room.<br />
We keep our distance apart. He hasn't seen Jean for several years, later on I realise he's come back to re-establish the connection and make sure she's okay.<br />
He indicates the huge fir-trees at the end of the street- they were just <i>so</i> tall when he lived here. "We used to fish off the river wall there" he tells me. I ask did he ever catch anything- "No" he replies "Did we heck!"<br />
<br />
Early evening there's some shouting on the main road and we go out to investigate. Whoever was kicking off has gone, but a woman crosses the road to give us our door key. She tells us she used to clean our house. She's a bit unsteady on her feet and apologises. "Sorry love, I've been on the gin!... well, with this Coronavirus you don't know where you are, do you?"<br />
<br />
A card's posted through the door. Touchingly, it's from the elderly couple over the road...'to our new neighbours, welcome to your new home. Sorry we can't be of further assistance at the moment, we hope to say hello and get to know you when everything gets back to normal. In the meantime we hope you settle in well'.<br />
How nice is that?<br />
<br />
In these strange times, then, check up on your Aunty Jean, be kind to your neighbours and know how to relax with a glass of gin..<br />
And above all, stay safe!<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Moving house, the bedroom with boxes</span>.<br />
<br />Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-8349457331705784722020-02-24T17:31:00.001+01:002020-02-24T17:31:36.103+01:00Five Years Later..<h2>
<span style="color: #134f5c;">Five Years Later...</span></h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis7ekURPzZQ2QjxtEGX7LW_uuFUxnhiLYVrYw2hYwuNmeXO69lGbx3-XeW0bttKH2ZNgeyjxp67JzBt-WYAT19q_F-SqV0hnr9WA21oIGAtNs5UN_SV7zM3JqMUWBDiHWk4nntOxKsWls/s1600/whitakerviewcanvas300ppiadj+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1590" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis7ekURPzZQ2QjxtEGX7LW_uuFUxnhiLYVrYw2hYwuNmeXO69lGbx3-XeW0bttKH2ZNgeyjxp67JzBt-WYAT19q_F-SqV0hnr9WA21oIGAtNs5UN_SV7zM3JqMUWBDiHWk4nntOxKsWls/s320/whitakerviewcanvas300ppiadj+%25282%2529.jpg" width="318" /></a></div>
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Well, it's nearly five years since my last blog. Life (and death) got in the way, but here we are now, living in the Rossendale Valley. Above is my view from the Whitaker Museum and Art Gallery which is just down the road from here. </div>
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This is an area full of contrasts- gritty post-industrial towns with the backdrop of wild moorland.</div>
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Everywhere is up a hill, and my bike lies rusting in the shed. I say shed, but it's one of the old toilets out the back in the communal alleyway. The loo in this one has gone, but next to it is another outhouse, still complete with its Victorian 'tipper' toilet. It's in a fetching rough brown earthenware and it's so old that there's one in Manchester's MOSI Museum. Here's a fascinating link, below.</div>
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You learn something every day!</div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sg8Jb2AkeQE">A 'tipper' toilet.</a></div>
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We have other Facilities in our house, I hasten to add. Here's one of them.</div>
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John Bratby did a better painting of <i>his</i> toilet... I think they were more interesting then, too.</div>
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Intriguingly (to me at least), we're buying a house a couple of miles away from here and our solicitor had a query to the sellers... in an old deed from 1948 there was a provision stating that the owner of another property <i>would be entitled to continue to use a closet on land to the side of the house</i>. </div>
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The closets were knocked down ages ago, so we won't expect pyjama and negligée clad neighbours pounding on the door in the early hours, thankfully!</div>
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Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-84213843666765538142015-05-11T18:20:00.002+02:002015-05-11T18:46:54.150+02:00Happy Times, Warmer Climes<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">Angouleme</span> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm
into my fifth week of tutoring six Tuesday evening sketching
workshops in at Alston Hall in Lancashire. It's a rambling Victorian
Gothic house and we look out of the studio, through arched windows and
across fields dotted with sheep and lambs, to the tree-line of the
River Ribble.</span>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This
loveliest of settings makes me look forward to my week at <a href="http://www.lagebaston.com/">Chateau L'Age Baston</a>, another grand house with lovely views from an elevated
position. Here, though, I'll be looking towards the Dordogne, over
countryside punctuated by terracotta-roofed houses and rimmed by blue
distant hills.</span>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC-LheTDRwTGSb2Y1GhyphenhyphenCIa22j8G9uxxWKg0iyowipURRXB0Qk4U8LfRDph16lyuog3PGZJ5NHBNoCiGFrErcfPZU5bEzqUG8XEEOtjWVNrzQoCrUlaHdf9BAmc0CyFDOqGh5ZWBvdmJA/s1600/P1030635.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I've drawn the</span><span style="font-size: large;"> ironing board
and the washing line, but there's the dovecote and the courtyard with
its bright umbrellas, worn stone steps, pretty gates and doorways,
drystone walls and deep dark woods studded with wild cyclamen. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">If
that isn't enough, pet donkeys and sheep roam within the shake of a
paintbrush and the breeze ripples, Hockneyesque, the swimming pool's
sunlit surface</span>.</span>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In
nearby towns, there are markets, bars and riverside chateaux.</span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihram-CGTUbENcRXT3i6uvcFpzJjsZf0N3_QquBEF8jGbU5MTxotQpCHHaJcBSfUUoORzh9PguOvYh2ouTfrvMvOmes41akFjFrYrjdWHwiAJBa2V1Gp8D792BtJt1zLbaxZzyMUgNiZM/s1600/piegut1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihram-CGTUbENcRXT3i6uvcFpzJjsZf0N3_QquBEF8jGbU5MTxotQpCHHaJcBSfUUoORzh9PguOvYh2ouTfrvMvOmes41akFjFrYrjdWHwiAJBa2V1Gp8D792BtJt1zLbaxZzyMUgNiZM/s200/piegut1.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ny_bkOlWXGasQkhuvWlst_1z6kraToDxhufVDm946Pit-n-4BVijFng_aWf13-M59fqUcB6PwOWy8HdtDUdJnElddlZdA7qVT3sSE7gZVUn7k107Cs4NtRKtepDOm3K6H9x9Qv2V20Y/s1600/piegutbutcher.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ny_bkOlWXGasQkhuvWlst_1z6kraToDxhufVDm946Pit-n-4BVijFng_aWf13-M59fqUcB6PwOWy8HdtDUdJnElddlZdA7qVT3sSE7gZVUn7k107Cs4NtRKtepDOm3K6H9x9Qv2V20Y/s320/piegutbutcher.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihram-CGTUbENcRXT3i6uvcFpzJjsZf0N3_QquBEF8jGbU5MTxotQpCHHaJcBSfUUoORzh9PguOvYh2ouTfrvMvOmes41akFjFrYrjdWHwiAJBa2V1Gp8D792BtJt1zLbaxZzyMUgNiZM/s1600/piegut1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> Piegut-Pluviers, the Market and the Bar</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Fellow
guests, too, are often happy to sit for a portrait, well, once at least!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">Don, drawing in the Studio</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> I'll
be encouraging students to get lively and loose and to respond to
different subject matter in different ways, with different materials.
We have nothing to lose, and everything to gain from a week in such
an idyllic retreat!</span></div>
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Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-69493654999036477202015-02-03T16:45:00.003+01:002015-03-03T15:25:16.516+01:00Packing Paints and Brushes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPEpPW0oV3XLcD1iKYD6LqMVeZp6Dz2nDlNXKfnHQ5C5XD25GmRZgsxVw2r-qVCoMx3dRHgs_eFOy-1aJF9GqM7KPqYoa98pTuOJFQCSyxaQaOWvwk7ujefW4iAGnnvSveevbOPkDT7Jc/s1600/sketchbooks1.jpg"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPEpPW0oV3XLcD1iKYD6LqMVeZp6Dz2nDlNXKfnHQ5C5XD25GmRZgsxVw2r-qVCoMx3dRHgs_eFOy-1aJF9GqM7KPqYoa98pTuOJFQCSyxaQaOWvwk7ujefW4iAGnnvSveevbOPkDT7Jc/s1600/sketchbooks1.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
<br />
I've been asked to give several workshops this year, both at home and abroad, all of them in the loveliest of venues! <br />
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Before my exhibition at the <a href="http://www.thewhitaker.org/">Whitaker-Rossendale Museum and Art Gallery</a> ends on the 22nd February, I'll be giving a half-term workshop for children, having fun using collage and line. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkHFBrhAsMGWqgjJyiVz06KAd-vsXv6dIML3Vc7Xg91sz9VtAEZijTUlbTgB4EVtbJjOw79WeJlMtRJkRiHGKuOdU3mTRHtWfE-ISYyDYMyVHCr1b73R2bS3AyaGU1b23RNs2OWFC25jc/s1600/whitaker-blog.jpg"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkHFBrhAsMGWqgjJyiVz06KAd-vsXv6dIML3Vc7Xg91sz9VtAEZijTUlbTgB4EVtbJjOw79WeJlMtRJkRiHGKuOdU3mTRHtWfE-ISYyDYMyVHCr1b73R2bS3AyaGU1b23RNs2OWFC25jc/s1600/whitaker-blog.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">The Whitaker, Rawtenstall</span><br />
<br />
And we plan a sketching afternoon for adults around the same time. <br />
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Also at The Whitaker, when the days get longer we'll see a return of last year's popular evening sketching sessions. With a free glass of wine for those who need some false courage! <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjaryDsTdr_Dv9_jX1arV0x7ectTtWuNGnm-cHEoatQigZdQUpyzKAXNwLhuH_est24EAbmbq-jPgMgat70BKN79ItYxSO8_Ny89NkmwydLYh-QmXdcJK13h2rhC80iEzn5bZaDPxTqNM/s1600/Alston_Hallps.jpg"><img border="0" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjaryDsTdr_Dv9_jX1arV0x7ectTtWuNGnm-cHEoatQigZdQUpyzKAXNwLhuH_est24EAbmbq-jPgMgat70BKN79ItYxSO8_Ny89NkmwydLYh-QmXdcJK13h2rhC80iEzn5bZaDPxTqNM/s1600/Alston_Hallps.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Alston Hall, Longridge</span><br />
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Further to the North-West, the stunning Victorian <a href="http://www.alstonhall.com/index.php">Alston Hall</a> in the Ribble Valley is the venue for different courses.<br />
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Tuesday evenings through April and May there'll be sketching workshops in the Gothic house and grounds, including an Urban Sketching session in the bright lights of nearby Longridge!<br />
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On the 13th June I'll be hosting a whole day's sketching at the Hall. <br />
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And! there's a whole week's residential art course from August 10th, which gives the opportunity to learn new skills and be immersed in all things artistic from morning to night, inspired by our surroundings and the world in general!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCNNaAUcZ5h5iM6GkqCcbRsxYSJQsVBmX10vD1bV4EXWvUkz1lFvB04ajPUIFn4Ns4UQNkEY2pKGj_EJ1Zn3hv_Baxz31k3Iirf6n-Z6YEHv8hDQuWB9ORlZklu_mcait7YHyPza_VVfg/s1600/lage+baston.jpg"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCNNaAUcZ5h5iM6GkqCcbRsxYSJQsVBmX10vD1bV4EXWvUkz1lFvB04ajPUIFn4Ns4UQNkEY2pKGj_EJ1Zn3hv_Baxz31k3Iirf6n-Z6YEHv8hDQuWB9ORlZklu_mcait7YHyPza_VVfg/s1600/lage+baston.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Chateau L'Age Baston</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span>For those who love la Belle France, I'm at beautiful <a href="http://www.lagebaston.com/courses/french-painting-courses/painting-tutors/caroline-johnson/">Chateau L'age Baston</a> in Poitou - Charentes for a week starting on the 27th June.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyK0fwIBIRRMG86FaEdft0W97L6RViB2A0wOjKp2SsgdEuY5nTSzfO3LZzobBATkx1rsiS5fDRoBK9wxtRS30VGUq3mz5O_DPapdaNCaITpJ2kF2q8QOOWkNDHAuZvup1eoBhMnzEH-DY/s1600/studio+window.jpg"><img border="0" height="329" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyK0fwIBIRRMG86FaEdft0W97L6RViB2A0wOjKp2SsgdEuY5nTSzfO3LZzobBATkx1rsiS5fDRoBK9wxtRS30VGUq3mz5O_DPapdaNCaITpJ2kF2q8QOOWkNDHAuZvup1eoBhMnzEH-DY/s1600/studio+window.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Outside the Studio</span><br />
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I've given workshops here for several years and love the house, the food (candlelit dinners in tapestried dining room or in the courtyard!), the beautiful dovecote, and the studio space<br />
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It's surrounded by gardens, cyclamen-strewn woods, and there are distant views towards the Dordogne.<br />
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I nearly forgot the pool, the heated pool, mustn't forget the pool.<br />
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I'm hoping you'll be inspired to join me- let's meet somewhere, sometime! <br />
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<b>You can keep in touch with what I'm up to on my Facebook page <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Caroline-Johnson-Fine-Artist-and-Urban-Sketcher/659515954161629?fref=photo">(Caroline Johnson, Fine Artist and Urban Sketcher)</a><br /><br />Watch this space for more detail, and go to individual websites for further information.</b><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> Motorway travel, views from a jam</span></div>
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This year's Urban
Sketchers symposium is as I write taking place in Paraty- a
Portuguese colonial seaside town in Brazil prone to flooding. But
while the participants were packing flip-flops for this annual
gathering, I was heading with Mr. Price for the tranquil shores of
Brittany.</div>
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From the north of
England, with the motorways jammed with traffic, it's a slow journey
down to the south coast and the ferries.
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The boat's jam-packed,
too! We have no overnight cabin and as I lie bruising myself on the
floor under a table I'm close to weeping (or homicide) at
one-o-clock in the morning, as I listen to a selfish mother nearby,
raucously singing 'Row, row, row your boat” with her child. Well,
thank you! Charming and touching though the scene might be in
daylight hours, I don't think it's really on when everyone's trying
to get some rest ...</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The little barn, washing and roof-mending</span> </div>
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Our house has survived
since Spring, although the familiar dead-mouse-under-the-floorboards
smell greets us and stays around for a few days. Over the years we've
learned you just have to sit it out, helped along by incense and
air-fresheners.</div>
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A box of clothes has
been nibbled by the wee pests, too. I buy horrid mouse-traps, but
Mr.Price 'forgets' to ever set them while we're over.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nest-on-a-rope</span>.<br />
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The garden's run
rampage as well, with little plum trees everywhere. There's a wren's
nest built in a hank of rope on the back wall of the lean-to. The
little bird has flown, but inside are empty eggshells and just one
lonely infertile egg, tiny and white, translucent and almost
weightless in the hand. We need the rope for cutting down a big
branch, though, so I carefully remove the small dwelling to keep in a
box, perhaps to draw at a later date.<br />
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Some of the family are
with us, and the younger grandson is quite eager to help us and his
Mum and Dad clear the garden. The other, older and aware that his
hairstyle and cool need preserving. is less naively enthusiastic and
chooses to wander around foppishly, documenting the work of others on
his camera.</div>
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They're at the beach
most days, however- and we, too, manage to escape the relentless
gardening for an afternoon swim at the lovely Pen-guen beach. The
seawater stings my bramble-scratched arms and that cliff-path gets
steeper every year, but it's a good pain!</div>
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The house is up for
sale, so every visit might be almost the last, who knows? </div>
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And in an act of
blatant self-publicity (contact me, though), here's a link:
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http://www.rightmove.co.uk/overseas-property/property-30091923.html</div>
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Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-21280592403302384652014-07-16T19:28:00.000+02:002014-07-16T19:36:30.297+02:00In England's Green and Pleasant?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"> Compared
to rural Brittany where we last lived, what a very crowded island this is!
House prices are prohibitively high and building land is at a premium.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">For
a couple of years now I've looked out of the kitchen window to see,
across the road, a large stretch of grass edged in the distance by
mature trees. Some days, a duck would take the sun here with her
ducklings, and at night cats would prowl. "How lovely", thought I
naively, "of them to leave such a pretty patch of green between the
houses!"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Ignorance
is often bliss, and in March the first bulldozers arrive to tear up the
grass and uproot bushes into an undignified heap.</span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDusiojeFIAXe0Fl8rmzwc8m03DIFp8Zg6bDJDlJc0U9NCCv2H_IjJH5V9MEPOLv1SKTP-ZZZAaZzhWirG5uTi7KsV2IdSFpuFiT_IBjJtLG7IWhb9AtG2ROZqRbkcRUVcdz_EJuM94pM/s1600/buildingsite2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDusiojeFIAXe0Fl8rmzwc8m03DIFp8Zg6bDJDlJc0U9NCCv2H_IjJH5V9MEPOLv1SKTP-ZZZAaZzhWirG5uTi7KsV2IdSFpuFiT_IBjJtLG7IWhb9AtG2ROZqRbkcRUVcdz_EJuM94pM/s1600/buildingsite2.jpg" height="382" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Permission for <i>'one bedroom flats and two bungalows'</i>
has been given and over the following weeks I witness the noisy
machinery of the ground- clearing stages of construction replaced by
cement deliveries.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMatjL0kEM4kaQH9xOs9Ye7Oh6OS7lxAlwhHbi-GWzh9XInFU1h9uBxF5s35gSP5sEGyzjn9kTLa_AXgqwb4CnaQRmPQ_Ir70WX1hyphenhyphennJt_WCWOqqgFOt3gGCD8viqYZgPbCWFbsdRpBvI/s1600/buildingsite1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMatjL0kEM4kaQH9xOs9Ye7Oh6OS7lxAlwhHbi-GWzh9XInFU1h9uBxF5s35gSP5sEGyzjn9kTLa_AXgqwb4CnaQRmPQ_Ir70WX1hyphenhyphennJt_WCWOqqgFOt3gGCD8viqYZgPbCWFbsdRpBvI/s1600/buildingsite1.jpg" height="245" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Then
come the more hands-on outside tasks of brick-laying and roofing. Now I
can hear the builders calling to each other (and to young lady
passers-by) and sometimes singing.<br />
<br />
I've learnt a bit, if I'm ever
called upon to build a house, fat chance! but my view's gradually disappearing.
It's as though the trees are slowly drowning in a relentless tide of
bricks. Today I see them from the upper windows, but not the kitchen.<br />
<br />
However,
I'm always ready to turn the negative to my advantage. It's not often
that such a sketching opportunity presents itself, without even having
to leave the house and I set about recording the sad process. I'm taking
hundreds of photos for a stop-frame animation (I'll have to call on my technician!) and of course I'm drawing
the scene as it unfolds before me. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ6TVO4MRcFaHzloeg2UjXjWmaJEtKVMmL6y798-EVFHE2wj3BjoFJslSCJyrML__8loB6zl1RDvCynLO-GqUohAD1s3ZazUeV9DE05JO03FT26r_0JGQ0OjqvVKaYiKpC3b2sEwC25Ik/s1600/buildingsite5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ6TVO4MRcFaHzloeg2UjXjWmaJEtKVMmL6y798-EVFHE2wj3BjoFJslSCJyrML__8loB6zl1RDvCynLO-GqUohAD1s3ZazUeV9DE05JO03FT26r_0JGQ0OjqvVKaYiKpC3b2sEwC25Ik/s1600/buildingsite5.jpg" height="373" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
I can't wait to draw the new neighbours... perhaps!<br />
<br />
<br />Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-62433885943942187282014-06-15T15:11:00.000+02:002014-06-15T15:11:19.698+02:00Into The Valley, Rossendale. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs4gO4CokQ2NWrTSKNu-K5bWgG3kTJTlkYLvDFZ9wEiaHQxqJOlXZM7yWdvVZQWsHkAInFajlN2-Vkz_3naGRu7eujl648h2JYcLlsmmZhIEMDORTC4uQTWgL7lIDq7rjmN3Y6W4BVPyk/s1600/whitaker-view.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs4gO4CokQ2NWrTSKNu-K5bWgG3kTJTlkYLvDFZ9wEiaHQxqJOlXZM7yWdvVZQWsHkAInFajlN2-Vkz_3naGRu7eujl648h2JYcLlsmmZhIEMDORTC4uQTWgL7lIDq7rjmN3Y6W4BVPyk/s1600/whitaker-view.jpg" height="400" width="378" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> Mill Chimney with Distant Fells, Rossendale.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> <span style="font-size: small;">For some time now I've been involved with The Whitaker
Museum and Art Gallery in Rawtenstall</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">, to the North of Manchester.<br /> <span>And in case you didn't already know, this post-industrial area is
known as The Rossendale Valley, characterised by the steep sided valley
of the
River Irwell and its tributaries which cut through the high moorland of
the
Rossendale Hills. In the valley bottom, urban settlements grew up </span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">at
river crossing points between Rawtenstall and Bacu</span>p.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWfI_rzVgdI4MoUaNRqzF_w9fF3LToDo1VT9al1UnKXFhPShNqxJcmomqOQefX4Sgl5MRDOnunIZzd3oECUKhoCm0mSBY_2ocsb5MNIztbWPdSR0PwXNYOhBJvbzZtHqPvz90RiGfkm-Y/s1600/whitakerclogs1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWfI_rzVgdI4MoUaNRqzF_w9fF3LToDo1VT9al1UnKXFhPShNqxJcmomqOQefX4Sgl5MRDOnunIZzd3oECUKhoCm0mSBY_2ocsb5MNIztbWPdSR0PwXNYOhBJvbzZtHqPvz90RiGfkm-Y/s400/whitakerclogs1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> Millworkers clogs, Whitaker Museum</span><br />
<span style="clear: right; float: right; font-size: x-small; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ySu_LVmIdC8fi5hUirIcnQeFiqgQ8NrZEhKnhyphenhyphenPVijotjWtEuenywWC2FUXZR9XSQ-fDG0HpUAQau1YA6mXmtgnmTCkBR9qpR5fIY20gf5sVMIbAR4e2YdzflK9qTkbvfyJo4RoFg5w/s320/whitaker4.jpg" width="182" /></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span><span>Textile mills
and chimneys and gritstone terraced houses are the dominant buildings
and roads are concentrated in the narrow valley. There's a striking
contrast between the forbidding mill towns and the sunlit heights which
form their backdrop.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span><span> </span><br />
<span>We have such a
wealth of subject matter for the sketching workshops I'm giving at the
museum (Thursday evenings, with wine, other beverages available!) and for The Big Draw, which</span></span><span><span><span></span> took place late last year..</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span><span> </span><br />
<span>The
museum's in a Victorian mansion with lovely views over the surrounding
park and town, towards the fells. Inside, there's an eclectic collection
of objects, including stuffed animals- some quite frightening- and birds, and an excellent café.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWfI_rzVgdI4MoUaNRqzF_w9fF3LToDo1VT9al1UnKXFhPShNqxJcmomqOQefX4Sgl5MRDOnunIZzd3oECUKhoCm0mSBY_2ocsb5MNIztbWPdSR0PwXNYOhBJvbzZtHqPvz90RiGfkm-Y/s1600/whitakerclogs1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQOuMlwroxYCHPA2ILJS2PGiDD08y5xjXTfnAfsi5y659aGHCvykRx_4QMDrWG5aacro9UpOBvJP8hvDT1GkSQclwvN9NnD9nec5LVvBe3yzh9dL76GBbhstiO9rsRqg9bfFN6utogk9A/s320/whitaker2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWfI_rzVgdI4MoUaNRqzF_w9fF3LToDo1VT9al1UnKXFhPShNqxJcmomqOQefX4Sgl5MRDOnunIZzd3oECUKhoCm0mSBY_2ocsb5MNIztbWPdSR0PwXNYOhBJvbzZtHqPvz90RiGfkm-Y/s1600/whitakerclogs1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ZBTsucXoA-Bb_GCwMn2FGOrsdlzbLaMF1P-5adtzX5X78tpuR6-88OATsClG7LVcJMq2BD-EMuH8lZuPL9C_kVgHm4DOapTYZ4txuo0ImsLKnuSZ8l6r_QNeUBarIB9rnfww5vmXhkM/s320/whitaker3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Various objects, Whitaker Museum </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span>Everything you could ever need for a few hours spent happily sketching or not, and with refreshments to hand!<br />
</span></span><br />
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWfI_rzVgdI4MoUaNRqzF_w9fF3LToDo1VT9al1UnKXFhPShNqxJcmomqOQefX4Sgl5MRDOnunIZzd3oECUKhoCm0mSBY_2ocsb5MNIztbWPdSR0PwXNYOhBJvbzZtHqPvz90RiGfkm-Y/s1600/whitakerclogs1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> Cakes at the Whitaker</span>Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-36801471972622834622014-03-17T19:41:00.001+01:002014-03-17T19:41:27.271+01:00The BBC Philharmonic<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSY_fkk0ZJCqlXupMv-4ZaarcP5jG1ftOTwAFwGJUgeXHwmfEYW7_R7b_zDmRDrHYmNmG3uVyEz4PMggBFxyxViMe-i9kgiURH7j_siTRkmMQ3XzU9IYNMXcBG0gXM2xFqkNydSXXRN4s/s1600/bbcphilweb3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSY_fkk0ZJCqlXupMv-4ZaarcP5jG1ftOTwAFwGJUgeXHwmfEYW7_R7b_zDmRDrHYmNmG3uVyEz4PMggBFxyxViMe-i9kgiURH7j_siTRkmMQ3XzU9IYNMXcBG0gXM2xFqkNydSXXRN4s/s1600/bbcphilweb3.jpg" height="214" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I
was pleased to have the opportunity to sketch this orchestra over a
couple of days. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Their publicity department had used my picture of Ordsall Hall, where they're playing this very week, so I made a deal to sit in on rehearsals. </span></span>
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="content5"></a><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">They're
based in Media City UK</span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en">
on the banks of the <span style="color: black;">Manchester Ship Canal</span> in Salford.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="western">
<span style="color: black;"> <span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en">The
BBC's move marked a large-scale decentralisation from London, and
the North of England has profited from this. From the top floor of the building we could just about see Coronation Street's factory wall- what a thrill!</span></span></span></div>
<div class="western">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en">It
took at least the first morning's drawing to feel comfortable, and to
have some sense of the direction or focus my work might take. Because
this was a rehearsal, the music would start and then suddenly stop and the conductor would gently encourage the musicians in a mixture of English and Italian.
This was a bit distracting at first, and the longer pieces of music encouraged inspiration and a better
flow to the pencil.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="western">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en"> </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirUNGozv3LCTH38uaaKmk-4UY1oNkoZU5GD0AxpmNoXPqcuZxflNwGFJX-ZutQZb4n4Q1yVYHnv9LvCQSkfrnu3L8c3GeuBUOvg0bsBMFR42uK2VSu75SHsykTgrpd5LfOZ512nbD5QrI/s1600/bbcphilscan2web.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirUNGozv3LCTH38uaaKmk-4UY1oNkoZU5GD0AxpmNoXPqcuZxflNwGFJX-ZutQZb4n4Q1yVYHnv9LvCQSkfrnu3L8c3GeuBUOvg0bsBMFR42uK2VSu75SHsykTgrpd5LfOZ512nbD5QrI/s1600/bbcphilscan2web.jpg" height="440" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></div>
<div class="western">
<br /></div>
<div class="western">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en">The
musicians were a nice bunch, interested in what we were doing, as we
were in them- we're all artists, aren't we?!</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBDA1-aVJQ06w-4nzbCSj-VskC9yfYK-_IOIChk1gxlDl-DOUj1G8ML74pArqBbon3ot9JQtl8Qepo8XYrrl_NvIGw_fNAynRga9TfXuocSExSgRGBMoYr8-m-mi41NsiVXMOZBnuWC9k/s1600/bbcphilweb2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBDA1-aVJQ06w-4nzbCSj-VskC9yfYK-_IOIChk1gxlDl-DOUj1G8ML74pArqBbon3ot9JQtl8Qepo8XYrrl_NvIGw_fNAynRga9TfXuocSExSgRGBMoYr8-m-mi41NsiVXMOZBnuWC9k/s1600/bbcphilweb2.jpg" height="271" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I
used my sketches in the studio later, along with photographs, to
produce a larger work, below.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="western">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en"> </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8AJ0jZGpA7PmgIdqNuWL00-DCx04qm4zHP7gI2pLxbOOlWOapY5f35WBUfW5_xTjqdjEYSgiAl1Ev6vT1gCrH3U51QFt6y6yJ2NU9x2Qj9ZKvCDNncWiD0r4Urj9L77NoEgKnkgYIPiY/s1600/bbcphilsunphoto.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8AJ0jZGpA7PmgIdqNuWL00-DCx04qm4zHP7gI2pLxbOOlWOapY5f35WBUfW5_xTjqdjEYSgiAl1Ev6vT1gCrH3U51QFt6y6yJ2NU9x2Qj9ZKvCDNncWiD0r4Urj9L77NoEgKnkgYIPiY/s1600/bbcphilsunphoto.jpg" height="224" width="640" /></a></span></span></span></div>
<div class="western">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="western">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">BBC Philharmonic, Studio Drawing 44cm x 122cm </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="western">
</div>
<div class="western">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en">This
is one of the traditional uses of the sketchbook.. as Fine Art
students we were we were encouraged to use them for various purposes:
as preliminary drawings prior to painting; to explore new ideas, thus
developing creativity; as visual diaries of the external world and as
drawing practise, and to re-visit as source material for inspiration.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="western">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en">Our
books were untidy, experimental, fearless and anarchic. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div class="western">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en">I'd
like to get back to that level of 'insouciance' -it's so easy to
blinker oneself by worrying about a good result on the page to be
shown to others, rather than opening up to new approaches and
unfamiliar materials.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="western">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="featuredclips"></a>
</div>
<div class="western">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Let's not be
hampered by the fear of failure!</span></div>
<div class="western">
<br /></div>
Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-57847830996242412342014-01-24T21:21:00.000+01:002014-01-24T21:21:02.325+01:00The Liverpool Scene<br />
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<br /><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><br /><div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq3PyQqBNE_-O3i8k8gm8_lv0BdoDYVNvAEFRj1WMgrokmIq7rG8Mr3b2bXWkPOsQ5TsCTqcRsUa7v5SBZQXI9GDiaE4dMa9nW04VbDHY_Xm2MpPcWpsQkUCuywymT_YBAwv_Bdbbr6Mc/s1600/Liverpoolfountain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="465" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq3PyQqBNE_-O3i8k8gm8_lv0BdoDYVNvAEFRj1WMgrokmIq7rG8Mr3b2bXWkPOsQ5TsCTqcRsUa7v5SBZQXI9GDiaE4dMa9nW04VbDHY_Xm2MpPcWpsQkUCuywymT_YBAwv_Bdbbr6Mc/s1600/Liverpoolfountain.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Steble Fountain and Empire Theatre, Liverpool</span></div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /><div class="western" style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Being born during one of the worst winters on record doesn't bode well for birthday outings, but on a sunny day this week we caught the train to Liverpool.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"> It's often cool and breezy in this city by the River Mersey. And it's bright, airy and spacious by comparison to our usual Manchester.. the light's so different here, and quite beautiful.</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">There's a lovely view from The Walker Gallery on William Brown Street. In the foreground is</span> the Steble Fountain:</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"> " The casting from which the fountain was derived had originally been designed for the Paris Exposition of 1867. At the opening ceremony in 1879 the mayor turned the fountain on with a silver key presented by Steble, but the water pressure was low and the effect was "dismal"."</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"> I expect it was more impressive than today, though, when there's not a drop of water in sight!</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0U6Oyan9KBitxRZNhpNBIc2Abt-4zn09zql33gNNyNvE-ezxIb6hOnjedY8SPG5mX5TMIr8nTtpvXh4miuAzT2TIJ1iazG2zn-w3WtHjeo40XZm4dmqouF1mLostibuYkNjqN-AV4n5E/s1600/liverpoolempire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0U6Oyan9KBitxRZNhpNBIc2Abt-4zn09zql33gNNyNvE-ezxIb6hOnjedY8SPG5mX5TMIr8nTtpvXh4miuAzT2TIJ1iazG2zn-w3WtHjeo40XZm4dmqouF1mLostibuYkNjqN-AV4n5E/s1600/liverpoolempire.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;">The Beatles at Liverpool Empire Theatre, December 7th 1963</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDqYPwaPtxCG3f02aRra2Uy8HQ5SsHZWvGd-rnoZ60GoGmgB5gRAF2TErE8XZzRZwKhc7jCniPNP63-lK3TaE3dDsSCDhUs5jEgHWWtsDLLoJlP3eDqknI5PX13oApKRVNQvyyqeCI0r8/s1600/Liverpoolwalker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> </div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Across the square towards Lime Street station is the Empire Theatre with its imposing neo-classical facade in Portland stone.<br />"In 1957 a local pop group called The Quarrymen appeared at the Empire Theatre. They returned in 1959, having changed their name to "Johnny and the Moondogs". They returned to the Empire again in 1962, now named The Beatles." </span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><span style="font-size: medium;"> Crowds gathered in this square after the death of Gladstone, Queen Victoria and the assassination of John Lennon.</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDqYPwaPtxCG3f02aRra2Uy8HQ5SsHZWvGd-rnoZ60GoGmgB5gRAF2TErE8XZzRZwKhc7jCniPNP63-lK3TaE3dDsSCDhUs5jEgHWWtsDLLoJlP3eDqknI5PX13oApKRVNQvyyqeCI0r8/s1600/Liverpoolwalker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDqYPwaPtxCG3f02aRra2Uy8HQ5SsHZWvGd-rnoZ60GoGmgB5gRAF2TErE8XZzRZwKhc7jCniPNP63-lK3TaE3dDsSCDhUs5jEgHWWtsDLLoJlP3eDqknI5PX13oApKRVNQvyyqeCI0r8/s1600/Liverpoolwalker.jpg" width="280" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0U6Oyan9KBitxRZNhpNBIc2Abt-4zn09zql33gNNyNvE-ezxIb6hOnjedY8SPG5mX5TMIr8nTtpvXh4miuAzT2TIJ1iazG2zn-w3WtHjeo40XZm4dmqouF1mLostibuYkNjqN-AV4n5E/s1600/liverpoolempire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></span><br /><div class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />A Corinthian Column, Walker Gallery, Liverpool</div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="western" lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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<span style="font-size: medium;">It's too chilly to spend much time sketching the view before we head inside the gallery to see the David Hockney exhibition, so I finish my picture the next day in the warmth of the studio. I don't see this as cheating but as a sensible choice. Yes, I could sit on the gallery steps and risk frostbite or, worse, certain painful conditions involving internal organs, referred to discreetly as 'Trouble Down There'... but that would be stupid of me, especially a I'm a whole year older this week!</span></span></div>
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Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-89596059572570967742013-10-06T15:14:00.000+02:002013-10-06T15:14:03.436+02:00"Glastonbury With Dinner Ladies"<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtgTYkW0zsJmG3Ycnro9SPC81yCAZdgLQ4c7SaZeTBHfSqAa8PY02BaglPPb9Khc7qMXTEUNWuVU6iRglcAlCNtgqkP6WFZ9DMg60XdmsjVjncI-vOgx03_HY9MU6sBUQR9gZW11LBPY4/s1600/cavfestthrowingpandas.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="518" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtgTYkW0zsJmG3Ycnro9SPC81yCAZdgLQ4c7SaZeTBHfSqAa8PY02BaglPPb9Khc7qMXTEUNWuVU6iRglcAlCNtgqkP6WFZ9DMg60XdmsjVjncI-vOgx03_HY9MU6sBUQR9gZW11LBPY4/s640/cavfestthrowingpandas.jpg" width="640" /></a> </span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Way
back in my last blog, I was sketching in the dark at The Soup Kitchen
in Manchester.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">What
I didn't mention was that Mr. Price and I met two lovely ladies there
who invited us to run a 'Little Urban Sketchers' workshop and to be
official 'war artists' for Cavfest.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">This
is a family-friendly one-day rock festival run by the forward
thinking Cavendish Primary school in Didsbury, Manchester.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgsbzJM7J0DiunP4zG6RG5gyURH8r5dE03Ny3h1A0aATqFGB2VU_Rz3wgHgGm8J-ekLJ-XFPTXyXs36MvQ98Rhtv8MhFll8v1IMdjG99YRqkuFLQ9BMKo20lrc1e6YZVQ7GQzRa3z1-B4/s1600/cavfest4early.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgsbzJM7J0DiunP4zG6RG5gyURH8r5dE03Ny3h1A0aATqFGB2VU_Rz3wgHgGm8J-ekLJ-XFPTXyXs36MvQ98Rhtv8MhFll8v1IMdjG99YRqkuFLQ9BMKo20lrc1e6YZVQ7GQzRa3z1-B4/s640/cavfest4early.jpg" width="640" /></a> </span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">As
the day dawns, they've sold out of their 2,000 tickets, but when we
arrive in the quiet of late morning, organisers and volunteers are
peacefully setting up on the playing field.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">However..
by three, the craft tent is a madness of parents and kids. Our little
stall is set up to encourage youngsters to pick up pen and paper
(supplied) and go out and draw a list of subjects. </span>
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">It's
a quiet start for us, other activities such as face-painting and drum
workshops have more immediate appeal. And we're next to to the
immensely popular Make Me A Monster workshop which threatens to push
us out of our corner, with its ever-advancing army of still-wet,
painted-box monster heads. </span>
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“<span style="font-size: medium;">Look
at my bloody jeans!” says Mr Price a couple of days later, showing
me where he's caught his legs on some particularly lurid shades..</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUOsus1HiYJjquu5UC4HvQP0LIpVU5AarTeR7AtqxygWcrxo4A3zUP8s4JOnFwPBaRQ1fvILfZiZ05ny0a2Y3YLKlVGYQ1-M3OHGxdFGLufZrEN95sMxGslSncHE-ks1333OV8rBa4nsM/s1600/P1000766.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz90pDget6xXg5pSdLTJfWL4kCX06p_GiL1YR7qwJppAV81n-FQNj4iQJpNRsuwz1vqN8nrBmscB8c6zInorP_DFeW-gFkZ5GishXr2ZP1jC9K6_A_ay1sNWCUdWRpQs90s_KTdXwHNnQ/s1600/cavfest5.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz90pDget6xXg5pSdLTJfWL4kCX06p_GiL1YR7qwJppAV81n-FQNj4iQJpNRsuwz1vqN8nrBmscB8c6zInorP_DFeW-gFkZ5GishXr2ZP1jC9K6_A_ay1sNWCUdWRpQs90s_KTdXwHNnQ/s640/cavfest5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;">We
take it in turns to oversee our budding artists or to go out
sketching.</span>
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">The
sun's shining when I selfishly overstay my sketching time to draw
Emma from Throwing Pandas and The Cornelius Crane, leaving Mr Price
to the increasing volume in the tent.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiijPise9mDjOPSLlA3F7V1wkH6GEIQwFo0I3kqLfvhAr7pAto2XWfRYBWohL8K0rL_xdC7VGtW925yDP2hvLQWuZAK8tIvMwBdfiJpCdYw7imy3vumxtPKSnsnCOTzXW1PaJTdq0LenWY/s1600/cavfest2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiijPise9mDjOPSLlA3F7V1wkH6GEIQwFo0I3kqLfvhAr7pAto2XWfRYBWohL8K0rL_xdC7VGtW925yDP2hvLQWuZAK8tIvMwBdfiJpCdYw7imy3vumxtPKSnsnCOTzXW1PaJTdq0LenWY/s640/cavfest2.jpg" width="640" /></a> </span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">I'm
delighted to see children sat in front of the stage who are actually
sketching! So it HAS worked!</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUOsus1HiYJjquu5UC4HvQP0LIpVU5AarTeR7AtqxygWcrxo4A3zUP8s4JOnFwPBaRQ1fvILfZiZ05ny0a2Y3YLKlVGYQ1-M3OHGxdFGLufZrEN95sMxGslSncHE-ks1333OV8rBa4nsM/s1600/P1000766.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUOsus1HiYJjquu5UC4HvQP0LIpVU5AarTeR7AtqxygWcrxo4A3zUP8s4JOnFwPBaRQ1fvILfZiZ05ny0a2Y3YLKlVGYQ1-M3OHGxdFGLufZrEN95sMxGslSncHE-ks1333OV8rBa4nsM/s400/P1000766.JPG" width="400" /></a> </span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Later
on we're able to go out together and sketch the crowds and lean on the
barrier in front of the bands. What a lot of babies and children there are-
I feel quite unfashionable in my sproglessness, but liberated at the
same time.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHxakTkeyZDo_6cnbxlC9822cUTgp44bss90WtTs2hqoUEFt4R17SAIaaVCFlwMkkfBshvV-l1Ugg_9z1wtJe-1HjJ5bRPL8sDbqVrY2dXzMqMKwTOJIBS2-lxIH8leZAt2FVKfMqdWT8/s1600/cavfestcrowd.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="345" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHxakTkeyZDo_6cnbxlC9822cUTgp44bss90WtTs2hqoUEFt4R17SAIaaVCFlwMkkfBshvV-l1Ugg_9z1wtJe-1HjJ5bRPL8sDbqVrY2dXzMqMKwTOJIBS2-lxIH8leZAt2FVKfMqdWT8/s400/cavfestcrowd.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Evening
falls with a light drizzle. Badly Drawn Boy is headlining, and we DO
draw him, and his hat. “ I reckon he got a job lot thirteen years
ago and feels he has to wear 'em all out” observes Mr Price.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeNXwfq7tgocR7smw9BELxkxZ7Keaavg02FwRrey_Z-J8dl2RLsAE7hYsQWzSSCptREswr-HItIIVsQlc9HLbSowuZhalK2-BkyfG64tCsj55P278ebQigdrV_hOPLTLd7tJizRrlzKeM/s1600/cavfestbadly.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeNXwfq7tgocR7smw9BELxkxZ7Keaavg02FwRrey_Z-J8dl2RLsAE7hYsQWzSSCptREswr-HItIIVsQlc9HLbSowuZhalK2-BkyfG64tCsj55P278ebQigdrV_hOPLTLd7tJizRrlzKeM/s400/cavfestbadly.jpg" width="246" /></a></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">At
half past ten the evening isn't over yet as we've been given tickets
for free after-festival drinks at a local tennis and bowling club.
It's difficult to find and 'someone' has to refuel at a chippy on the
way. Kindly locals try to give us directions and a nice young couple
even lead us through the dark suburban streets lined with trees and
Victorian villas. </span>
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">There's
the club, down a drive and, outside and in, it's a lovely old
building dating from 1874. The organisers and volunteers are there,
they're really pleased at what we achieved with the children and with
our day's sketches, too.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">And in an ever so humble and self-effacing way, so
are we.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> A big thank you to everyone for an excellent day! </span>
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNe_4noHysvME0BgDbOkmYdA0DZYx0j7u4hVRhHHMgQUi42C4gd7DxXnsjS-4dXxn5JaqQzX0xecpS8QukgM9Kacp6Qf3flIHjeIKmB1ajltXY30RWT3rU202ZMNYaC4o4W35QXP0G_vE/s1600/cavfestrainband.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNe_4noHysvME0BgDbOkmYdA0DZYx0j7u4hVRhHHMgQUi42C4gd7DxXnsjS-4dXxn5JaqQzX0xecpS8QukgM9Kacp6Qf3flIHjeIKmB1ajltXY30RWT3rU202ZMNYaC4o4W35QXP0G_vE/s640/cavfestrainband.jpg" width="640" /></a> </span></div>
Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-16132009300030181782013-07-08T21:42:00.001+02:002013-07-08T21:42:52.854+02:00Rock On
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizw_zy85qTRe1o0CNf6OFniVdH_OSFMceTaqWgedxxwVcE4TrR6imdU28mclIx-sjQrnrIgBxm-lwfITdYieFZaoPh5dNC_XJp5SdI8xGQBg6X9PwfJKa-0UkOo1PpbGeyFd7SHrIqoHU/s1600/the+minxweb.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizw_zy85qTRe1o0CNf6OFniVdH_OSFMceTaqWgedxxwVcE4TrR6imdU28mclIx-sjQrnrIgBxm-lwfITdYieFZaoPh5dNC_XJp5SdI8xGQBg6X9PwfJKa-0UkOo1PpbGeyFd7SHrIqoHU/s640/the+minxweb.jpg" width="640" /></a> </span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;"> The Minx, The Soup Kitchen, Manchester</span></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> I've
been out sketching regularly with two different groups and I've
noticed that not a lot of figure drawing goes on. Probably because
the human form is the most difficult of subject matter and can ruin
a precious sketchbook if we fail (I just stick some paper on top).</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">But-
and this is especially for the urban sketchers among us- our towns
and cities wouldn't exist without 'people to people them'.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">To
redress any imbalance in my own work, I've worn sackcloth and ashes
and beat myself with a bunch of nettles, by choosing to sketch at
music gigs.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">The
first's at the Brudenell Social Club in Leeds on a Thursday After a
wait in the bar, noting down the colourful local language in my
book....</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWAAmcCQlrbYl-mra4KMoqAv6zuNkBI3zLmT-IzlRKcWdrCd6REHOcXLRjGO9HUT9uKVUKuqV5feSrgUM4tscbib25dmh3pvO3jiW1EaUCIOupuS1dDZeLGNdtIJRZhOl-zw8yHAIalw8/s1600/3johns18.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWAAmcCQlrbYl-mra4KMoqAv6zuNkBI3zLmT-IzlRKcWdrCd6REHOcXLRjGO9HUT9uKVUKuqV5feSrgUM4tscbib25dmh3pvO3jiW1EaUCIOupuS1dDZeLGNdtIJRZhOl-zw8yHAIalw8/s640/3johns18.jpg" width="640" /></a> </span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I</span>'m
well served in the venue itself by having a view from a raised area,
with chair and a shelf in front of me for materials. I've forgotten
my small water jar, but the dregs of my beer make a good substitute<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8gKyJ1tI4AEZzrdHqIVOiWEd9rQ9wyLV8V2qdlOXq-qKxaHcrOnjypDjMAXk9T6oF_6-HSpKdrDxDUwIk5o2HBIcq_DQ09rAI4B7_1u5YSq1SlOBLtOprXUprkkePV7XwUJyQ6XbBtHU/s1600/3JLeeds6.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="377" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8gKyJ1tI4AEZzrdHqIVOiWEd9rQ9wyLV8V2qdlOXq-qKxaHcrOnjypDjMAXk9T6oF_6-HSpKdrDxDUwIk5o2HBIcq_DQ09rAI4B7_1u5YSq1SlOBLtOprXUprkkePV7XwUJyQ6XbBtHU/s640/3JLeeds6.jpg" width="640" /></a> </span><br />
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;"> Leeds 6 All-Stars</span></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">When
the lights go down I can see very little of my sketchbook, but
realise it's a ready-made excuse for any failure. And this freedom
produces a lively set of drawings which I mightn't have otherwise
achieved.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnqqiil2j50Z-g2P1Vr3MUl7xFcDKfGPwYeiue3R1Zg1wYdD9pXtIsqiaIKZzhCgTffBLf6RygD_oGDwrawRtb7UaG7Ug_kHCgaq2b860uYH8BhxHqlTLNADHncu2pwZs7xv7EBVJxCdY/s1600/Three-johns1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnqqiil2j50Z-g2P1Vr3MUl7xFcDKfGPwYeiue3R1Zg1wYdD9pXtIsqiaIKZzhCgTffBLf6RygD_oGDwrawRtb7UaG7Ug_kHCgaq2b860uYH8BhxHqlTLNADHncu2pwZs7xv7EBVJxCdY/s640/Three-johns1.jpg" width="640" /></a> </span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-1VppQ7YXK1rlLwg4ReInfYvXjR3MqFeLYtiAMof7Bi3OJ3kPV1qwxePcurzzjk7iwXx4eqREaBKnZirsqbxX4HAgzG5zd3-Vlf1hdxxQAAQCkDZHKCN1S70h4Z4ZGsuAUF86io65q_Q/s1600/Three-johns2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-1VppQ7YXK1rlLwg4ReInfYvXjR3MqFeLYtiAMof7Bi3OJ3kPV1qwxePcurzzjk7iwXx4eqREaBKnZirsqbxX4HAgzG5zd3-Vlf1hdxxQAAQCkDZHKCN1S70h4Z4ZGsuAUF86io65q_Q/s640/Three-johns2.jpg" width="640" /></a> </span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">The Three Johns</span></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_FTeMCNCNKNdDojBHiiQuq2LAs5dpolhPhvnX0ANvZuX0hscJbCyJ4kUtVWksDO6AE-wkVjl__OJPdwgVwNgWAODZJQ2KmtyLt7_sctzhGABXhkONvPi8O3OPm4gpjKf0MPqgxFV2ss4/s1600/moston+drawing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-size: medium;">..Saturday
and we're on to the next gig- at The Soup Kitchen in Manchester. The
venue's in a dank, dark basement hung with wires and pipes. There's
just one table and two chairs in the place and when the bands come
on, I'm too small to see anything, even stood up so I stand on a
chair with my back to the wall to draw in fountain pen, adding wash
and colour at the table after.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Next
time I'll ask for a seat at the side of the stage.</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKd3M6rWxx8Z0efpcwGyDcpsfqevh7DVTiIU9SJVhZIQ7LmEVty-NmwXVWK86JBSm7fUur7vruxmWXzWeRwL89WVAzPeyquhlEly2Kg24L1QePB1HlJi075Kp0bYOjd8d7ydMQnvlWlgA/s1600/soupkitchen2ps600.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKd3M6rWxx8Z0efpcwGyDcpsfqevh7DVTiIU9SJVhZIQ7LmEVty-NmwXVWK86JBSm7fUur7vruxmWXzWeRwL89WVAzPeyquhlEly2Kg24L1QePB1HlJi075Kp0bYOjd8d7ydMQnvlWlgA/s640/soupkitchen2ps600.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;"> The Gull Wings</span></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Thursday
again, and we're at the Miners Community Arts and Music Centre,
Moston, Manchester, where there's a benefit gig to help pay for
heating to be installed. I meet the affable Stuart Maconie who's
there with other folk from Salford's Media City. </span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_FTeMCNCNKNdDojBHiiQuq2LAs5dpolhPhvnX0ANvZuX0hscJbCyJ4kUtVWksDO6AE-wkVjl__OJPdwgVwNgWAODZJQ2KmtyLt7_sctzhGABXhkONvPi8O3OPm4gpjKf0MPqgxFV2ss4/s1600/moston+drawing.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_FTeMCNCNKNdDojBHiiQuq2LAs5dpolhPhvnX0ANvZuX0hscJbCyJ4kUtVWksDO6AE-wkVjl__OJPdwgVwNgWAODZJQ2KmtyLt7_sctzhGABXhkONvPi8O3OPm4gpjKf0MPqgxFV2ss4/s640/moston+drawing.jpg" width="640" /></a><span style="font-size: x-small;">By the dance floor<span style="font-size: x-small;">. Moston</span></span></span>
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">It's
a bit dark for it, but with a seat in the second row and an easy view
I draw singer-songwriter Jesca Hoop. What a nice lady, she wants to
pose with my picture afterwards!</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">And
what have I learned? To be less precious, to go with the flow of
circumstances, to respond individually different subject matter, to
stand (and sketch) in the gloom , on a chair, after a couple of beers. </span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-3643256078142024702013-05-01T16:36:00.000+02:002013-05-01T16:36:17.685+02:00From Urban Sketch to Urban Paintings<br /><div class="post-outer">
<div class="post hentry uncustomized-post-template">
<div class="post-share-buttons">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlu8UJAvjWT_FaUWcpTjA95AEGjcXJftvq8AkeNJ4Q0DgWbI6oH8-Pz6DO3EUGV2mXy-38CTTZ-uCC299PzD-XJ8wYjOK6_00P4pBjJWWwrmsEI71hNaH6ArNv7Ew2lGq1jteMG2NQISA/s1600/quaypanoramaps2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlu8UJAvjWT_FaUWcpTjA95AEGjcXJftvq8AkeNJ4Q0DgWbI6oH8-Pz6DO3EUGV2mXy-38CTTZ-uCC299PzD-XJ8wYjOK6_00P4pBjJWWwrmsEI71hNaH6ArNv7Ew2lGq1jteMG2NQISA/s640/quaypanoramaps2.jpg" width="640" /></a> <span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Salford Quays, Panorama</span><br />
<br />
The sketchbook has been traditionally regarded as a mere artist's tool,
a starting point for larger, longer real pieces, the finished
paintings.<br />
I've long thought that it's unfair to judge the merit of a work on how
long it took ... a laborious, dogged two years with a .01 brush and
umpteen glazes, or five minutes with pencil, joy and exuberance? What's
worth more?<br />
<br />
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Here's Rubens' sketch of cows..<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH7v6sLue7xs6tmoT7BHZfA_y2Q6qeU7iIVbQ4Ztm72ouqE2c79sii9M45HwPK7i2X7qH6KsDUVcSvPdQKnttRyqi8EDax_MmiusvKWycou6TaKa5aMYO_RvR8EltSRvmfWz5f6J-P8sg/s1600/rubens2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH7v6sLue7xs6tmoT7BHZfA_y2Q6qeU7iIVbQ4Ztm72ouqE2c79sii9M45HwPK7i2X7qH6KsDUVcSvPdQKnttRyqi8EDax_MmiusvKWycou6TaKa5aMYO_RvR8EltSRvmfWz5f6J-P8sg/s320/rubens2.jpg" width="255" /></a></div>
..and here's one of his more 'worked' pieces. What happened to that left arm?<br />
<br />
A drawing reveals, too, a lot more about an artist than the 'greater'
works- there's a lot more freshness, honesty and a disregard for
painting's vagaries of fashion.<br />
In fact, it's sometimes hard to tell exactly to which century a drawing
might belong! Who's this long-haired hippy/hippie then? Answers on a
postcard please, no prizes.<br />
<br />
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I see the sketchbook as a delightful record and an unique insight into an artist's interests and character. <br />
So..I've included my own books in my exhibition at Salford Museum and
Art Gallery and, in their little display cabinets, they give life and
warmth to a roomful of formal, framed, wall-hung work. The earliest
dates from 1952!<br />
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There are over fifty works in the exhibition- I was surprised and
pleased that what I'd achieved fitted nicely in the gallery space. It
was as though I'd planned it, and I'd never lain awake in the nights,
listening to my heartbeats, fretting about having enough to fill the
huge room!<br />
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<br />
Despite blizzards on the opening night over a hundred souls braved the elements. I don't know how many got home. <br />
Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking' at such events... I didn't,
and left the job up to the excellent Ann Bukantas, who is not only Head
of Art at National Museums, Liverpool, but also a kindly friend.<br />
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<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> <span style="font-size: xx-small;">Ann <span style="font-size: xx-small;">Bukantas with Alastair Price</span></span></span><br />
<br />
Many thanks to my sponsors, to all those who helped with the show and
encouraged me along, and to those who supplied food for the opening- on
the way out I was told it was delicious.<br />
Mmm! That sustaining glass of wine and two crisps certainly helped on the 26 mile, snowbound, home-bound journey!<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Caroline Johnson, Manchester and Rennes.</span> <br />
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" name="8406816571459544589"></a>Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-23907710993270194092013-03-08T12:06:00.004+01:002013-03-08T12:06:58.815+01:00Out and About and Inside In<h3 class="post-title entry-title">
<a href="http://www.urbansketchers.org/2013/03/out-and-about-and-inside-in.html"><br /></a>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span>Life's been so hectic with work to finish for my solo show at Salford Museum and Art Gallery.<br /><br /> It
opens on 23rd March and we're in the throes of invites, press,
publicity, framing, pricing, and catering for the private view on the
Friday evening. Help!!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA8tEypwa020Hlg_WUG7Y6VQfSztWsfnwRoDfQEVnmfnbF4IKNr2rhDUwd-tSmq47j4TdiBcgK-q8VRF1UopavEn1aK6lsRRHd2uPyZXvOaKXgsRfybnUeLL80D4V4DWqLvXTzFNARrP8/s1600/manuskrylands.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA8tEypwa020Hlg_WUG7Y6VQfSztWsfnwRoDfQEVnmfnbF4IKNr2rhDUwd-tSmq47j4TdiBcgK-q8VRF1UopavEn1aK6lsRRHd2uPyZXvOaKXgsRfybnUeLL80D4V4DWqLvXTzFNARrP8/s640/manuskrylands.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />I've
made time, however, for some urban sketching (often with Manchester
School of Art Urban sketchers) which will form part of the show... it's
on until early July and during this time I'll be out and about drawing
Salford and Manchester.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtm6x93W1sVTyu1iL5attsCYeaIAYOfjZJrGgxL2YEzzwGK2fz0jrWrRgljNiSI0GYqmCmgkEEujaalIgobiiXv99JCEoDqqxgsDOglW6zF1c0j-nTc87nV4Wjnvf3yus_Hf9Q8gnVy_w/s1600/exchange2sk.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtm6x93W1sVTyu1iL5attsCYeaIAYOfjZJrGgxL2YEzzwGK2fz0jrWrRgljNiSI0GYqmCmgkEEujaalIgobiiXv99JCEoDqqxgsDOglW6zF1c0j-nTc87nV4Wjnvf3yus_Hf9Q8gnVy_w/s640/exchange2sk.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />I'd
like to Tweet where I am on these days, too, so people can come and see
what I'm doing. Not that they usually need any encouragement!<br /><br /> It's
my way of bringing art to the people, the ones who mightn't usually set
foot in a gallery, and it's an important side of urban sketching which
shouldn't be overlooked.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span>At the same time I'll encourage them to
have a look at the exhibition- and dispel any preconceptions that the
artist is a recluse producing unfathomable works which are removed from
any reality.<br /><br />Well, that's the idea anyway- they might just see me as some mad old bag whittering on about unconsequentialities! </span><br /><br /><span></span></span>
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Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-1995786753380701772012-12-05T13:01:00.000+01:002012-12-05T13:01:39.418+01:00Let The Sun Shine, Let the Sun Shine.<br /><br />
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<br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Manchester's renowned for rain, but at the second gathering of the new Urban Sketching Group, it's a mild and sunny afternoon..</span><br /> <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQwNqUsdXgcX8G3dXqO0lZH5FUmxLnfc8RJ7imXoTAKh_BXvzeeWNZiH1IcRNv7FS_lrzvnYF-42MGIq5DWnY3DAuhOvrlDLUuJSujT6rPyQCJwUaL1z_qb2Xb9mk5vW2uW0EXe008j18/s1600/P1180358.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQwNqUsdXgcX8G3dXqO0lZH5FUmxLnfc8RJ7imXoTAKh_BXvzeeWNZiH1IcRNv7FS_lrzvnYF-42MGIq5DWnY3DAuhOvrlDLUuJSujT6rPyQCJwUaL1z_qb2Xb9mk5vW2uW0EXe008j18/s200/P1180358.JPG" width="150" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">We meet inside The Exchange- it's the old Corn Exchange building transformed into a theatre.<br />We can't stay and sketch inside here today as there's a performance on, and, anyway, it's far to nice not to take advantage</span>.<br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Outside, in St. Anne's Square, they're setting up fake Hansel-and-Gretalesque cabins for the Christmas Market and there are a few stone benches to sit on for those who have no fear of piles.</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyms7k5UVKWZ0HWEUt88L1pdhtTO7DL6uNwPY0QOgIh3yTQvQCsFfCy1Nwnhu9mA59hx8z17TMonHQeydR50RDF1QGJFduGxplD3FjskR6gSq1b7mmP7KMb1K0_ipUXs0re4EMYjXwKCM/s1600/P1180359.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyms7k5UVKWZ0HWEUt88L1pdhtTO7DL6uNwPY0QOgIh3yTQvQCsFfCy1Nwnhu9mA59hx8z17TMonHQeydR50RDF1QGJFduGxplD3FjskR6gSq1b7mmP7KMb1K0_ipUXs0re4EMYjXwKCM/s200/P1180359.JPG" width="169" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">I settle down to sketch.. two German ladies are surrounded by heaps of boxes, they're arranging it with decorative wooden hangy-things, which in my ignorance I imagine are called Volkjulebilderplakken or somesuch.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi34GhB__wVXUCq3r0F__dha3T83IS1HFqCtHLK1fBYgaie1DLxolW_DwfJpk3reIKY1d9OENTrsW3kraVuDpuAhNYDNoTviXUxZ-fKaYn3LugRpYQgkF7VxfCPCE1p-d4uiu_54sD4jFQ/s1600/P1180372.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi34GhB__wVXUCq3r0F__dha3T83IS1HFqCtHLK1fBYgaie1DLxolW_DwfJpk3reIKY1d9OENTrsW3kraVuDpuAhNYDNoTviXUxZ-fKaYn3LugRpYQgkF7VxfCPCE1p-d4uiu_54sD4jFQ/s320/P1180372.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">As time and I draw on, their stall fills up with goods, dusk falls and the lights in the cabin shine out.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-size: large;">When I count up afterwards, we sketchers number around nineteen- such a good turn-out! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We lay our sketchbooks at the foot of the War Memorial- there's a lovely diversity of </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">styles and subject matter.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXX6mnNxZwjOmf-hIZMVYLEuHUOIVmlKjJ96hauxhvihcDav6gcQSyoeyvF-2r8cC-2PVrLM3a-VsdKZhu3WmBaDQKsQdzt5odYxvIimE-IqJkT1SYwA4tcIkblibwEWsbKWmPktA-31s/s1600/P1180371.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXX6mnNxZwjOmf-hIZMVYLEuHUOIVmlKjJ96hauxhvihcDav6gcQSyoeyvF-2r8cC-2PVrLM3a-VsdKZhu3WmBaDQKsQdzt5odYxvIimE-IqJkT1SYwA4tcIkblibwEWsbKWmPktA-31s/s320/P1180371.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"> Well done to all, and especially to Simone for starting the group!</span><br />
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Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-78361820057373703842012-10-21T12:17:00.005+02:002012-10-22T17:58:58.207+02:00In The Company of Sketchers<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm6iuk0Og3EN0IqygCQP2pVyCRW5tmFDvQunTgMQs3ngjQwciJWmM1ZSp51ErrFC52XjS-G8XLmkVo8XbKtRLUkx4u5_Lokq4TUtB12pDdH-IUq7EcwbVFzftAWNEH-OcFoPC8vsRjVeo/s1600/383415_10151122736619608_1730718109_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm6iuk0Og3EN0IqygCQP2pVyCRW5tmFDvQunTgMQs3ngjQwciJWmM1ZSp51ErrFC52XjS-G8XLmkVo8XbKtRLUkx4u5_Lokq4TUtB12pDdH-IUq7EcwbVFzftAWNEH-OcFoPC8vsRjVeo/s400/383415_10151122736619608_1730718109_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We aren't an official Urban Sketchers group yet, but as Urban Sketcher for Manchester, I was kindly invited by tutor Simone Ridyard to the first meeting of sketchers from Manchester School of Art.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<a href="http://www.facebook.com/?ref=tn_tnmn#!/groups/321316664634124/"><span style="color: #5688aa; font-size: large;">http://www.facebook.com/?ref=tn_tnmn#!/groups/321316664634124/</span></a><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">There was a good turn out- around twenty folk showed up- in front of the smart new Business School building, and we actually had sunshine for the afternoon, a rare event for Manchester!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I sat in the little park opposite the famous music emporium called Johnny Roadhouse and drew the rather scruffy shops.. tattoos, tarots, massage, fast food..</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_54PhQKpqyZqhHWuu50fd7Rkz8m-qERTknLQ23-UwHU_SDDDVr1NFovLeyoXIkdYWXB5_tw8BKazgeHZzpujr-4kq5c03BXYWNrvaIax4WRFoyFuUOjIsybNTKFuIvGTE_qlGhdBwlUA/s1600/MMU-Johnny-R.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="403" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_54PhQKpqyZqhHWuu50fd7Rkz8m-qERTknLQ23-UwHU_SDDDVr1NFovLeyoXIkdYWXB5_tw8BKazgeHZzpujr-4kq5c03BXYWNrvaIax4WRFoyFuUOjIsybNTKFuIvGTE_qlGhdBwlUA/s640/MMU-Johnny-R.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Everyone was SO keen and it was like magic, when after a couple of hours we had a lovely collection of sketchbook drawings which <em>hadn't been there before</em>.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> That's the beauty of creation!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirWG5HVT6vfKxfz4q707lNRJ_4_Bjt2dJWoYcyXS6XL2lp8nuh2N9ooWP6MkpMJ_8MQKa2X1CDt4_4ZjJI2nOhdfctU4arJe6FiYeqytDIAfG0wAw3fMhgPfyF8zTMB0JPU2FfYZW0ack/s1600/Manusk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirWG5HVT6vfKxfz4q707lNRJ_4_Bjt2dJWoYcyXS6XL2lp8nuh2N9ooWP6MkpMJ_8MQKa2X1CDt4_4ZjJI2nOhdfctU4arJe6FiYeqytDIAfG0wAw3fMhgPfyF8zTMB0JPU2FfYZW0ack/s640/Manusk.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-34876125294872793702012-09-21T18:09:00.000+02:002012-10-22T18:04:40.102+02:00Catching Up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG2rsY3u6YY-nKcJgeKpkCgycW9WtYBEsdUfDq_GL0VRGroZZS55QWnQ0M1BAnVMkLWTehQkoAkf88Hc_5wmJl8AcNbu7n13ofNt_tulqi1uo9z5SzrFZ5rr1tuAlKr001szjiNbqBBxI/s1600/avenhamcrop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZRxo0BYCQt39FYl4eC0yhdLH8h1sOlZeYvwYyQJgdNhmWe2vTWXMEkePtb0AekFDmQD2EnZLLWrDbvshDMSe7Op16vmYgvuoG2MJMzX8NcvLRd6fawwVgVOagpu1n4_C0M4L4EVUJfa4/s1600/avenham-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZRxo0BYCQt39FYl4eC0yhdLH8h1sOlZeYvwYyQJgdNhmWe2vTWXMEkePtb0AekFDmQD2EnZLLWrDbvshDMSe7Op16vmYgvuoG2MJMzX8NcvLRd6fawwVgVOagpu1n4_C0M4L4EVUJfa4/s640/avenham-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drawing By the River, Avenham Park, Preston</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's been a while, hasn't it, since my last blog? I'll try and remember what's been happening.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A search through my sketchbooks should give me some clues!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Here's a picture, above, of Avenham Park in Preston, it's where myself and Mr Price met up with other Preston Sketchers.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As is this one of Morrisons Supermarket.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1uHvIREza3UMkuUm4g0doYvKdhQDhUe5FMAsQgZOoMsbYo-DW9lHnupCdC-rYPjIaSrkZfxtIGeLR_zDtuP95_C5Dz6CxAdkKKJaWWcVth4f2h6U8sF_NV1VSmDDXLI2gQoRMizPaQLQ/s1600/prestonsketchmorrisons4.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1uHvIREza3UMkuUm4g0doYvKdhQDhUe5FMAsQgZOoMsbYo-DW9lHnupCdC-rYPjIaSrkZfxtIGeLR_zDtuP95_C5Dz6CxAdkKKJaWWcVth4f2h6U8sF_NV1VSmDDXLI2gQoRMizPaQLQ/s640/prestonsketchmorrisons4.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More Reasons to Sketch at Morrisons..</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And we also met at Worden Park in Leyland and sheltered from the rain in the one place we could, condemned to draw what was in front of us, or the person next to us, which is what Messrs Price and Heath often do anyway!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOgyLY1M8OVejBts0mMKLp59JrmovBIgHSt_2OiRgMn-yIK6WDwgvNdry1fSZvY13ePeiWHBoS-WQyTzh-30HaS-l-uShjUlt6DQy6alILbxvIKbJhbzi94AM3ZjIWkLb6SQM5lvseONQ/s1600/presketchworden7.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOgyLY1M8OVejBts0mMKLp59JrmovBIgHSt_2OiRgMn-yIK6WDwgvNdry1fSZvY13ePeiWHBoS-WQyTzh-30HaS-l-uShjUlt6DQy6alILbxvIKbJhbzi94AM3ZjIWkLb6SQM5lvseONQ/s640/presketchworden7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Worden Park, Leyland</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I seem to have spent a lot of time in hospitals, this one's when I was waiting in the out-patients..</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhta-w4HKRNGbOQL2sXafx_fcGAuf_hUGRdA5NEpP4xbsersf66G578JH2E5-vYWt2nDTzdgOnuFl2v9E2mwRzpy0GlROKFKJ5pRwpryMnq_p9myIWdyVkh8V17mC_7dtV6CXto1DksUew/s1600/RPH-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhta-w4HKRNGbOQL2sXafx_fcGAuf_hUGRdA5NEpP4xbsersf66G578JH2E5-vYWt2nDTzdgOnuFl2v9E2mwRzpy0GlROKFKJ5pRwpryMnq_p9myIWdyVkh8V17mC_7dtV6CXto1DksUew/s640/RPH-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting Room, Cardio-respiratory Department, Royal Preston Hospital</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixJq8WhmpNl4msGwyhRTPCpQNqWu3L8DbIJkIhJR44Ud0aglW6OxR3cMoUn-xGtMlTFwhK3BnX10i4XMxNXy4moL6Li1Vn4wgizhrFwRHX4hkMHwpN4C0oRrwayzLjSWtEZPBioYBnxV4/s1600/prestonbus2-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">And here's my dear old Mum who I found slumped at her home after a heart attack - thankfully she's making a good recovery.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIDMcb6Yq0fWxr0F3JVq2cgFKeBPQfXMC7Nk__uJn1_tAIX6o7jFxY-_CIDlmM04QHR3bsi8yRXkvx5Bc4pj4Bh2ZFMRPJVhf3nnRcGX2a6ZZXjSlcXoLPiwCZfjYwiXuF3mUWyg1CsFA/s1600/img066.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIDMcb6Yq0fWxr0F3JVq2cgFKeBPQfXMC7Nk__uJn1_tAIX6o7jFxY-_CIDlmM04QHR3bsi8yRXkvx5Bc4pj4Bh2ZFMRPJVhf3nnRcGX2a6ZZXjSlcXoLPiwCZfjYwiXuF3mUWyg1CsFA/s640/img066.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mum Asleep in Chorley Hospital</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I've done a lot of bus travel and enjoyed drawing out of the windows</span>,<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixJq8WhmpNl4msGwyhRTPCpQNqWu3L8DbIJkIhJR44Ud0aglW6OxR3cMoUn-xGtMlTFwhK3BnX10i4XMxNXy4moL6Li1Vn4wgizhrFwRHX4hkMHwpN4C0oRrwayzLjSWtEZPBioYBnxV4/s1600/prestonbus2-001.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="374" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixJq8WhmpNl4msGwyhRTPCpQNqWu3L8DbIJkIhJR44Ud0aglW6OxR3cMoUn-xGtMlTFwhK3BnX10i4XMxNXy4moL6Li1Vn4wgizhrFwRHX4hkMHwpN4C0oRrwayzLjSWtEZPBioYBnxV4/s640/prestonbus2-001.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"..And in Five Minutes It Was Out Here!"</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">and listening to snippets of conversation.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcsSqdKdeclaLmd1cauMzK2C1AHK9RCYkSo0XdOif0D-iCVA259wMkn-1w_BneO41SHANYDp9BgPgv-wfUtqgidPgLKZoChOX-BJp9937utAhVrzaJisbPSDrLZTXYhSXZNk4rHKjU1eg/s1600/P1170894.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcsSqdKdeclaLmd1cauMzK2C1AHK9RCYkSo0XdOif0D-iCVA259wMkn-1w_BneO41SHANYDp9BgPgv-wfUtqgidPgLKZoChOX-BJp9937utAhVrzaJisbPSDrLZTXYhSXZNk4rHKjU1eg/s640/P1170894.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ta Love on the Bus to Preston</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR3lIVjJgmCUyuGuHN88FxHYiPDYcsD8eB3P7qjKa4NOd9SULRRf1NPFYPiBTytEWbP-cMslnKN3ML5au_PUUSrqUMWkWi4yMJ9r2jsZ0sWMMbSp3CeJ9AJyXXbjveiADcrjiTjI5wLPw/s1600/londontrain-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">I've travelled by Virgin train (this sketch has got to be be worth a fortune now!)</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR3lIVjJgmCUyuGuHN88FxHYiPDYcsD8eB3P7qjKa4NOd9SULRRf1NPFYPiBTytEWbP-cMslnKN3ML5au_PUUSrqUMWkWi4yMJ9r2jsZ0sWMMbSp3CeJ9AJyXXbjveiADcrjiTjI5wLPw/s1600/londontrain-001.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR3lIVjJgmCUyuGuHN88FxHYiPDYcsD8eB3P7qjKa4NOd9SULRRf1NPFYPiBTytEWbP-cMslnKN3ML5au_PUUSrqUMWkWi4yMJ9r2jsZ0sWMMbSp3CeJ9AJyXXbjveiADcrjiTjI5wLPw/s640/londontrain-001.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Train from Preston to Euston</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">to London Town</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguvpe6DVnVXmpb_6WOj85sTAncSm1c3mWGWDgO7Q7s4doTo-vUsw5OTnRKkSKN_UT8SPAc4nkEVuCXvvpEbrVNmMtwTFWOo1cb2c9yT6aIHN-I-iAJ8Rc3LWHQSlPVCLQjJlQ09dhqEdE/s1600/shard-001.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguvpe6DVnVXmpb_6WOj85sTAncSm1c3mWGWDgO7Q7s4doTo-vUsw5OTnRKkSKN_UT8SPAc4nkEVuCXvvpEbrVNmMtwTFWOo1cb2c9yT6aIHN-I-iAJ8Rc3LWHQSlPVCLQjJlQ09dhqEdE/s400/shard-001.jpg" width="246" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Shard, London</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> for the Olympics!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVNg6TqcoVgJk3esLyqAqRkwkYg3H3R9qSTd2f4gcLpCmc_9_lN7h0NRPLIjFuDzUrhLyarDMvzXV9ZYeOY5qYgCl70UqSbRPngYOUhFhsfWjA7mN1owUkceXv1KojOLTz_DdDabhXTdo/s1600/games3-001.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVNg6TqcoVgJk3esLyqAqRkwkYg3H3R9qSTd2f4gcLpCmc_9_lN7h0NRPLIjFuDzUrhLyarDMvzXV9ZYeOY5qYgCl70UqSbRPngYOUhFhsfWjA7mN1owUkceXv1KojOLTz_DdDabhXTdo/s640/games3-001.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Olympic Stadium 3rd August 2012</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdxfb8sAuMqSBnbKOg8qd_VmlpOsHXlj0TWUacOlTJ0N71P_hAABE7N2t30nboIXhY6sDGFB-dj9q_8qA3vxMpg-hOJww2hvpwcgKx1A32UhfmnB0ENsL0SvDcpquQqKHtEvWWqhNKExs/s1600/penguenpeople1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Good times were spent in Brittany.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdxfb8sAuMqSBnbKOg8qd_VmlpOsHXlj0TWUacOlTJ0N71P_hAABE7N2t30nboIXhY6sDGFB-dj9q_8qA3vxMpg-hOJww2hvpwcgKx1A32UhfmnB0ENsL0SvDcpquQqKHtEvWWqhNKExs/s1600/penguenpeople1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdxfb8sAuMqSBnbKOg8qd_VmlpOsHXlj0TWUacOlTJ0N71P_hAABE7N2t30nboIXhY6sDGFB-dj9q_8qA3vxMpg-hOJww2hvpwcgKx1A32UhfmnB0ENsL0SvDcpquQqKHtEvWWqhNKExs/s640/penguenpeople1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Beach at Pen-Guen</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But now I'm back, doing things like sketching at the museum in Preston,</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE6bkidskblzC5hvBSTW7mfE1YRgwHzRz86-WU299TbYbTyL3tu45G-HK8QG1huhl98FmU5vcy4BbyhOPOiGvYcqDWEtRAF4ou2MXd6ydk0EZX8-g5fKVJjj64OZImn7icUMr3QyUPwmY/s1600/harriselkcaroline5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE6bkidskblzC5hvBSTW7mfE1YRgwHzRz86-WU299TbYbTyL3tu45G-HK8QG1huhl98FmU5vcy4BbyhOPOiGvYcqDWEtRAF4ou2MXd6ydk0EZX8-g5fKVJjj64OZImn7icUMr3QyUPwmY/s640/harriselkcaroline5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Poulton Elk, Harris Museum, Preston</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIDMcb6Yq0fWxr0F3JVq2cgFKeBPQfXMC7Nk__uJn1_tAIX6o7jFxY-_CIDlmM04QHR3bsi8yRXkvx5Bc4pj4Bh2ZFMRPJVhf3nnRcGX2a6ZZXjSlcXoLPiwCZfjYwiXuF3mUWyg1CsFA/s1600/img066.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">sometimes venturing over the border to Yorkshire</span>..<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi97gMXDW7IIbtmFP_gMS93hJktlxPKKcVSHQ69V2k7hmy79kL4bhB_51c7X9UMhujHAP-ZpRgjfPpFOxs8V-ZLyE1fwcYjsdQ12ZWBQ4x4kOduEvepwKiYjUwbQlIaKF3RyE6HZEHEeAM/s1600/bridestones2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi97gMXDW7IIbtmFP_gMS93hJktlxPKKcVSHQ69V2k7hmy79kL4bhB_51c7X9UMhujHAP-ZpRgjfPpFOxs8V-ZLyE1fwcYjsdQ12ZWBQ4x4kOduEvepwKiYjUwbQlIaKF3RyE6HZEHEeAM/s640/bridestones2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bridestones, Todmorden</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> and, in the studio, catching up with the artworks for my exhibition next year.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTEeDi1X1oHbU7ZIhISlbcKdcoJYAcDr1fj4zi9UE12lhDb9pv4WAikhYILzeNADSay0U7wVGEuqI9G4sgsJqduxCMyo_WB6fKhAqkJQjOpyBMTBOo4I8VcWtHNaiSAQDBZIiLQOkhiBE/s1600/newtown-millversion2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTEeDi1X1oHbU7ZIhISlbcKdcoJYAcDr1fj4zi9UE12lhDb9pv4WAikhYILzeNADSay0U7wVGEuqI9G4sgsJqduxCMyo_WB6fKhAqkJQjOpyBMTBOo4I8VcWtHNaiSAQDBZIiLQOkhiBE/s640/newtown-millversion2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Mill That Lowry Drew, Pendlebury</td></tr>
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<br />Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-49424753414394377612012-04-28T16:45:00.000+02:002012-04-28T16:45:20.252+02:00Meeting Myself Coming Backwards<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5zNJ_6Sl-jm8kAK_Jiy5aBMOxLFZHIt7Eq7uM2hGBrN7UWwpF1rhL6BGSUk7CcJkQxvhwdZNvp-AlopvRD6jfJ7H5MhDl1MSDKmgig3DF1E0DZzm033OOilI6OPibn-3eQQblS8EIlVY/s1600/leyland-parishchurchyard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5zNJ_6Sl-jm8kAK_Jiy5aBMOxLFZHIt7Eq7uM2hGBrN7UWwpF1rhL6BGSUk7CcJkQxvhwdZNvp-AlopvRD6jfJ7H5MhDl1MSDKmgig3DF1E0DZzm033OOilI6OPibn-3eQQblS8EIlVY/s400/leyland-parishchurchyard.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Eagle and Child from the Parish Churchyard, Leyland.</td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">Once upon a very long time ago I joyfully left my hometown in the grim North-West, to go to art college. </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: small;"></span></b><br /><b><span style="font-size: small;"></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">I'd found little inspiration in the place; I hated its non-descript houses, its cultural shortfalls, the drab council estate where I lived.. and I especially despised the ugly Gasworks in the centre of town.</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;"></span></b><br /><b><span style="font-size: small;"></span></b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Jg06tlD4WYYQFCeGXJO0_VChzv263q1UI5QejJ_k1XEAsQmJhnTfcqE6WtBQvSqV9KrFhThXJrJs37b-AFIQbyUmrhiq579LHIAs47NLzLU-9SSkecXYtoafAL-jhm3yo6kImw_y8DI/s1600/fr0442%2520Hough%2520Lane%2520Gasworks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Jg06tlD4WYYQFCeGXJO0_VChzv263q1UI5QejJ_k1XEAsQmJhnTfcqE6WtBQvSqV9KrFhThXJrJs37b-AFIQbyUmrhiq579LHIAs47NLzLU-9SSkecXYtoafAL-jhm3yo6kImw_y8DI/s400/fr0442%2520Hough%2520Lane%2520Gasworks.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Gasworks</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><span style="font-size: small;"> Over the years of separation, my feelings have mellowed, through indifference towards a grudging acceptance and a present re-appraisal. For many years my heart sank at the sight of the Gasworks. It's gone now, and there's a Macdonald's where it stood. Which still makes my heart sink- I'd much rather have the Gasworks, it'd make a great painting!</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7L03ua8gEF1W33n-Jyt2h928_cmdL_ulROfEzwRBKvi3MNV2qtkdVipXJxXB7XkPdee8Yz9sKvAzOLYLoJSpZ1NaABG_NRoIiIvLYPNna0ShZ-g6wXn1eg4zIMV1QGzfXho6Le8-2cgo/s1600/leyland-mcdos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7L03ua8gEF1W33n-Jyt2h928_cmdL_ulROfEzwRBKvi3MNV2qtkdVipXJxXB7XkPdee8Yz9sKvAzOLYLoJSpZ1NaABG_NRoIiIvLYPNna0ShZ-g6wXn1eg4zIMV1QGzfXho6Le8-2cgo/s400/leyland-mcdos.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br /><b><span style="font-size: small;">Some of my favourites are still here, however. There's the lovely park, the weird 'new' 1960's Catholic Church (</span></b> <b><i>"a thought-provoking treasure-trove of post-war
religious architecture, art and design")</i><span style="font-size: small;">, the Eagle and Child pub by the parish churchyard, the surrounding rich countryside of the Lancashire plains, and the ever-present distant hills.</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">But a huge new Tesco store dominates the prettiest, oldest part of town, imposing its huge car park onto the ancient crossroads and making mockery of thousands of years of history.. "Are we at the airport?" asks my grandson.</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;"> I'm living on the outskirts of town, where the flatlands reach to the sea, and the
feeling is one of space, light and distance. It's a big vegetable growing area- and farms stand out against the horizon.</span></b><b> Towards the Ribble estuary and the sea are the
villages my ancestors came from on Mum's side of the family, where they
were mariners and farmers.</b><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS3elvEWaOI05h8nbAq1VMvVrRbvReCGvJQ2wjXjTF-0mXV_U24mTzT0ftpo-lyGO-B8etQ7buM5z29PZzK1VQ-Clx9L4mBWtMZh2KfuCAmW8oDEmYu9quYV61JteprPvXj7Ou46pCDVU/s1600/matthew+sutton+iddon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS3elvEWaOI05h8nbAq1VMvVrRbvReCGvJQ2wjXjTF-0mXV_U24mTzT0ftpo-lyGO-B8etQ7buM5z29PZzK1VQ-Clx9L4mBWtMZh2KfuCAmW8oDEmYu9quYV61JteprPvXj7Ou46pCDVU/s320/matthew+sutton+iddon.jpg" width="232" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Great Uncle Captain Matthew Sutton Iddon</td></tr>
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<b> To the south-west is the village where Dad's ancestors were innkeepers in the 1700s; to the North is Preston
where they were cotton workers and 'tripe- dressers'. (they sewed little frocks and
trousers for it, haha!)</b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: small;"></span></b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVaVrvEGty8I0z_4WS1cWY_dbKUhrjW_Zsfo3OKko8LoFc2W-79OIDZtvBUBf7mKoA3eY5K11BAvU7hFc7qk89-ulAM2FC_bJ0AJnvoJ0-OM9DPnlX4SHE2GbqrHfDV5JtDqzQBYy_cI8/s1600/5056243294_feb7bb62db_b.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVaVrvEGty8I0z_4WS1cWY_dbKUhrjW_Zsfo3OKko8LoFc2W-79OIDZtvBUBf7mKoA3eY5K11BAvU7hFc7qk89-ulAM2FC_bJ0AJnvoJ0-OM9DPnlX4SHE2GbqrHfDV5JtDqzQBYy_cI8/s200/5056243294_feb7bb62db_b.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tripe-dressers for the Guild 1922 advert</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVaVrvEGty8I0z_4WS1cWY_dbKUhrjW_Zsfo3OKko8LoFc2W-79OIDZtvBUBf7mKoA3eY5K11BAvU7hFc7qk89-ulAM2FC_bJ0AJnvoJ0-OM9DPnlX4SHE2GbqrHfDV5JtDqzQBYy_cI8/s1600/5056243294_feb7bb62db_b.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><b><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">There are great views from all the windows of my house- well,
my kind of views, which might involve sheds!</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Fdg0IDAMlu4Qbwj_clM4PmVpj3rcfugpnX2a7kbLHQqaKs8It6xwfpAZ40dsmHjj06ORsZH2iJYy7RowpLcME9ORgtj4GciJImxmQvnDzLp6qPP-rQW626QaP8POmoOipggAvISuFMA/s1600/slaterlaneback-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Fdg0IDAMlu4Qbwj_clM4PmVpj3rcfugpnX2a7kbLHQqaKs8It6xwfpAZ40dsmHjj06ORsZH2iJYy7RowpLcME9ORgtj4GciJImxmQvnDzLp6qPP-rQW626QaP8POmoOipggAvISuFMA/s320/slaterlaneback-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="font-size: small;">The river's nearby, too, with walks along it and intimate views of pretty gardens leading down to the water's edge. </span></b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5HUu0eW1_5p7qYYHGmb2hJguSF3HvvCo6T0yF8Z55ZzKAM-qbRDUzg9wIppbp-90uUa7BwZjcc1eDEz3Ui40pbvUOdZLjLjmpFPYF9A4Dun_ysNtohpOraR6-dREpbSAy4AWBB9U8tJg/s1600/leyland-river-lostock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5HUu0eW1_5p7qYYHGmb2hJguSF3HvvCo6T0yF8Z55ZzKAM-qbRDUzg9wIppbp-90uUa7BwZjcc1eDEz3Ui40pbvUOdZLjLjmpFPYF9A4Dun_ysNtohpOraR6-dREpbSAy4AWBB9U8tJg/s400/leyland-river-lostock.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Across the River Lostock</td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">So much has changed, even since we left for France. Bus travel, central heating...</span></b><b><span style="font-size: small;"> shops that have moved or gone completely. Dodgy areas of town have become almost respectable; fields are now
housing estates; the big car-building plants of Leyland Motors have been razed to make way for Argos, Morrisons and
Homebase.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;"> A boy I last met when he was ten is
now a bloke with a kid, library books are no longer stamped and my 'card' is now plastic.. my postman is hatless, shaven-headed with shorts and an earring. Where's his uniform and cap, can I really trust him??</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;"> What do I do with four dustbins, when and where, front of the house or back?</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;"> 'The Rates' are known as Council Tax and water is a Utility (I always thought it was useful), but why is the Electricity called the Gas?</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuF8XX1jRcoIwQAFZLhoAx0Tu8LowPWVL086VV0tc-M0r89WwiWrdqApZlpVy29-bVZRfWRt7U8ZMD0919UnhPPRxPFrUayLDVVxk9M2JNKjd7XQMzHDzb7Wnayt65j9VvZufhfnzLn-4/s1600/leylandtopreston1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuF8XX1jRcoIwQAFZLhoAx0Tu8LowPWVL086VV0tc-M0r89WwiWrdqApZlpVy29-bVZRfWRt7U8ZMD0919UnhPPRxPFrUayLDVVxk9M2JNKjd7XQMzHDzb7Wnayt65j9VvZufhfnzLn-4/s400/leylandtopreston1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From the Bus</td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></b></div>Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-41343329781424635562012-02-12T18:00:00.009+01:002012-02-29T19:28:06.309+01:00An English Artist in England<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW6Z3giNdNf1pliJ6KmmAaUM-4bpqtUSr90ef0ASGhp3hcGAfOSG2x0VIqgN9945a5h_kR_vDFd0rOihH-hGNuU3kvnRzrtX_Uu62t2SG7uNA1JjIQRJVhRv3AvsRgAcrGGpTmfH3pwNE/s1600/mumdadinloveblackpool+001.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 227px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW6Z3giNdNf1pliJ6KmmAaUM-4bpqtUSr90ef0ASGhp3hcGAfOSG2x0VIqgN9945a5h_kR_vDFd0rOihH-hGNuU3kvnRzrtX_Uu62t2SG7uNA1JjIQRJVhRv3AvsRgAcrGGpTmfH3pwNE/s320/mumdadinloveblackpool+001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714623598765727922" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Dad and Mum, Blackpool 1946</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >My dear old Dad passed away in January. I'd flown over to deal with Family Matters (it's a long story which would best belong to the world of Charles Dickens) and he died a few days later. It's as though he waited for me.</span></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;" ><br />Here was a man who was down-to-earth and practical, yet an incurable dreamer and a poet.<br />For us as children, and for his grandchildren, he blurred the lines between reality and fantasy, creating the magical childhood that he himself had missed.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLhyt20d-wlGSHRhnNM7b74K1F20Hh9Z7Vi-KZZW2Olp0uK2tO6i2M1yljEsElSzm1zWc6FWfm7O1GfYLZCV44eg75x4VN4Ju8zNEIF0VQ7a_mwy0nGd689O7VRsaeZOrD3Z_1mdbKHY0/s1600/dad+fairies.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLhyt20d-wlGSHRhnNM7b74K1F20Hh9Z7Vi-KZZW2Olp0uK2tO6i2M1yljEsElSzm1zWc6FWfm7O1GfYLZCV44eg75x4VN4Ju8zNEIF0VQ7a_mwy0nGd689O7VRsaeZOrD3Z_1mdbKHY0/s320/dad+fairies.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714613471582817266" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;" >There were fairies at the bottom of the garden- to say there weren't meant one would die! </span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;" >Ghost riders roamed the skies, highwaymen rode down ribbons of moonlight to their deaths, and Gypsy Rovers came over the hill.<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;" >On Friday evenings (it was pay day from 'The Motors') there were sugar mice with string tails for us, and <i>the Beano</i> and <i>the Dandy.<br /></i></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzKt3gX87BrgVUURbmIylZbUwh9SrJk3FU9JeGF8eNN_eDr2gBFZ7Sz8DT7hn3aiN6nwuPJe3vE9QkT1DmIMxauvBFoQL8QMXvwmvu7Jp-ILCAsiOYBmF10yYcXbhvIyiFvUIoOcJaonc/s1600/dad+sugar_mice_pink__33472_zoom.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzKt3gX87BrgVUURbmIylZbUwh9SrJk3FU9JeGF8eNN_eDr2gBFZ7Sz8DT7hn3aiN6nwuPJe3vE9QkT1DmIMxauvBFoQL8QMXvwmvu7Jp-ILCAsiOYBmF10yYcXbhvIyiFvUIoOcJaonc/s320/dad+sugar_mice_pink__33472_zoom.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714616384154795986" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;" >Pink milk with coconut on top was a cure for crying last thing at night, or he would plan to make <i>'tear butties' </i>from our weepings, which turned to smiles at the thought.</span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;" ><br />But he would warn us of <i>The Boy Who Cried Wolf,</i> and against excessive noise he would recite darkly:</span> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">“<i>Father heard his children scream</i><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><i>So he threw them in the stream</i></span></p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"> <span style="font-size:100%;"><i>Saying as he drowned the third</i></span></p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"> <span style="font-size:100%;"><i>Children should be seen, not heard.”</i></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><i><span style="font-size:85%;">Harry Graham, poet</span><br /></i></span></p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">He took care to treat his daughters equally, without favouritism, and made each of us feel loved for herself.</span></p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">As I grew up, he was protective and ambitious for me.</span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Bad school reports would bring threats of being made to work in the Mill, or, strangely, Woolworths- I quite fancied the sweet counter myself!</span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQXXHSRBabQ050GzVmvueTcHsfDjA-4mzl_iQHx50rxhEX1A0IBsFr-Qafp1XcIjtM6_3AHXflVVw0_7zxm164zFgsDmXFBWoNFC-BaPMKlEPqMJNyGej5conDSHnPpl8jU4SjMJNcEM/s1600/dad+mill.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 217px; height: 257px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQXXHSRBabQ050GzVmvueTcHsfDjA-4mzl_iQHx50rxhEX1A0IBsFr-Qafp1XcIjtM6_3AHXflVVw0_7zxm164zFgsDmXFBWoNFC-BaPMKlEPqMJNyGej5conDSHnPpl8jU4SjMJNcEM/s320/dad+mill.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714613461451084418" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuzZa7JOEkzaR4V7Hni0AhQRZ1UPqz747-R12y2z_O4_zYzhu7Aa_k56xtgoYO5889Et_dxGXHjYXNx13rAqwA72UAYZLZmCKvEmrgTS2vKpeYShEt9X2PFt_eU2GngaY7cLyKx4HqXkw/s1600/dad+PicnMix1950s.jpg"><br /></a><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Although Dad mostly, like his Gypsy Rover, whistled and sang his way through life, he had a fondness for sentimental verse and song- <i>Nobody's Child, Old Shep</i>, and sad poems that he would delight in quoting freely.... to anyone at hand.<br /></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgllTpg9cdODxOsthd9Ove7S4T9RD86uYS2tFu7LAQy75HcufB8VjxZIDq566TdVTb6ghSgIj50aot6xIolopYxqtTZkWpvp2c7nQ1VHxEiR28fHgn00Y8nLiuIDTQDCrH9UY96YvJ2c8U/s1600/dad+boy_and_dog_kmws.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgllTpg9cdODxOsthd9Ove7S4T9RD86uYS2tFu7LAQy75HcufB8VjxZIDq566TdVTb6ghSgIj50aot6xIolopYxqtTZkWpvp2c7nQ1VHxEiR28fHgn00Y8nLiuIDTQDCrH9UY96YvJ2c8U/s320/dad+boy_and_dog_kmws.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714613460720603042" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Adults were plied with his home-brewed wine, a variable selection ranging from sheer ambrosia to downright undrinkable.</span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I'll raise an imaginary glass to him- from one of his better bottles- to Vic, Dad, Uncle Vic, Grandad, Great Grandad... warm-hearted, generous, sometimes annoying, intelligent....</span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6q5x2IP5rkUIY3T2XKK6OS3b4nSvzd6k43nhPlKFheifgJoTXtf0N6gaRAAYe21QfhqqtjkNWDDMJjRs5TPCtRRcxAeH3ycaByuxOtt3VpHy9tKKO8jHc4NluPPGWe1OqEdswGGwI0xI/s1600/Dad-india-christmas.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6q5x2IP5rkUIY3T2XKK6OS3b4nSvzd6k43nhPlKFheifgJoTXtf0N6gaRAAYe21QfhqqtjkNWDDMJjRs5TPCtRRcxAeH3ycaByuxOtt3VpHy9tKKO8jHc4NluPPGWe1OqEdswGGwI0xI/s320/Dad-india-christmas.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714616382531765074" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"> <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" > In the RAF, India</span><br /></span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">A small man, with a big heart !</span></p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPVnWQgQFDnkHis8eDLHVX348Tnlxllfwkf6sQb1rt-fR5ggIuBGxA1Clu1T1VxxE5fC8FhX0IAwKs2lapdhRgczxprOaNeUgZBC3XnULrDMog-MCV7fEGuiASScUiZImM5op8aKLmP5o/s1600/dad-roo-rach.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPVnWQgQFDnkHis8eDLHVX348Tnlxllfwkf6sQb1rt-fR5ggIuBGxA1Clu1T1VxxE5fC8FhX0IAwKs2lapdhRgczxprOaNeUgZBC3XnULrDMog-MCV7fEGuiASScUiZImM5op8aKLmP5o/s320/dad-roo-rach.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714616385362816530" border="0" /></a></p> <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >With his grand-daughters</span>Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-21555642539423883432011-11-12T14:49:00.009+01:002011-11-12T15:28:20.822+01:00Geese Are Getting Fat- Already!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHYjHbhRZloWRBjOeMMJrYFHicD1uxYAbCUvN2o-cCfl3xBeX_B6vfJNsHUMRbbTvglwo8hyJoChs8eWwiMyBh3nsLu-Edt82SAt2BcWOvGBbkVushgXVdgjvlZxcL11lPUozRC8HD4b4/s1600/ferryrain-001.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 254px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHYjHbhRZloWRBjOeMMJrYFHicD1uxYAbCUvN2o-cCfl3xBeX_B6vfJNsHUMRbbTvglwo8hyJoChs8eWwiMyBh3nsLu-Edt82SAt2BcWOvGBbkVushgXVdgjvlZxcL11lPUozRC8HD4b4/s400/ferryrain-001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674108592635569106" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;"> Cross-Channel Ferry, Rain</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Is it really that time again? It doesn't seem like a year since you were round last!” </span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPkot4cMsPPh_jHRjIf_rhrmNMO-xaz7yILHvwoCbrOY9bwCspJS1nt20R7EODtliHyxyd-WVLrKbrH6bMnd7ZvKi95ib7XbIapHKN-kvyudpj9qpTtG79NjEUFuEXC1Bx9YlaActRk1k/s1600/hebden-canal-1.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 356px; height: 360px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPkot4cMsPPh_jHRjIf_rhrmNMO-xaz7yILHvwoCbrOY9bwCspJS1nt20R7EODtliHyxyd-WVLrKbrH6bMnd7ZvKi95ib7XbIapHKN-kvyudpj9qpTtG79NjEUFuEXC1Bx9YlaActRk1k/s400/hebden-canal-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674109147660158690" border="0" /></a> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Well, yessiree, it is- we've travelled in the rain from Roscoff to Plymouth, and through the drizzle heading North to the market town of Clitheroe, Lancashire, where we'll brighten shop windows with our jolly and festive paintings.<br /></p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">We have the luxury of a house in the town this year which means we can walk to work and get home in the light if we finish early enough. We can see the castle from our street, and there's a fish and chip shop on the corner- such a novelty for the exiled Brit- and a particular delight to Mr. Price! We haven't actually had any as yet, but it's just <i>the knowing that it's there. <br /></i></p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I was<i> </i><span style="font-style: normal;">almost </span>happy, too, to be woken up in the early hours by a milkman making his deliveries. And I've seen a coalman. Small but important pleasures! <br /></p><br />While we're here I have paintings to deliver to the Colin Jellicoe Gallery in Manchester and the Calder Gallery in Hebden Bridge. The latter is a new one to me, and I've enjoyed depicting a different landscape. The Calder Valley area of Yorkshire is so full of contrasts- high, bleak moorlands stand over the old factory and mill towns in their deep, lush valleys. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA7od2uaNUyJN_hPe19Kh3O53n3BF0-D-c9SWOwQh3avb1YkcVELX1lbr6n2m8HcoH7TgTL6ikJ8VRdJBdfOHBMf-5IA7KmMY4LiZCUYq03pDvFvn3sntpg2_gc9XuGPtSqmmDGsvQavE/s1600/xmas11.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 308px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA7od2uaNUyJN_hPe19Kh3O53n3BF0-D-c9SWOwQh3avb1YkcVELX1lbr6n2m8HcoH7TgTL6ikJ8VRdJBdfOHBMf-5IA7KmMY4LiZCUYq03pDvFvn3sntpg2_gc9XuGPtSqmmDGsvQavE/s400/xmas11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674109942207359890" border="0" /></a> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> Last week I was in Salford to sign up for an exhibition at the Museum and Art Gallery. The room where I'll be is enormous and I felt very small... probably because I'm very small! But filling the space with my work will be a wonderful opportunity for my own development as an artist..I can only improve!</p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">In the meantime it's out with the red paint for berries, reindeer noses and Santa, and the green for trees and decking the halls with holly. The red red robin bobs along to the Estate Agents; a mother lays her baby in a barber's window; the Three Kings traverse afar by field and fountain, moor and mountain, and call for refreshments at Molly's café on Moor Lane.<br /></p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">With a smile on our faces and a Ho-ho-ho, we're ringing in the new and the true... yes, already!</p><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyH-Lirw8w_lkHkrDYrFkpAz12ljVgK8MGf2WV-6cjWAYHpAWeFvHQXllXXltiw9Mx_kA4bbcgJYhjzkJB09XqnS4lgpzRIOO0stGdPFuHqUSQJi91xMFcyiohw2ag1i9Q23pel6mPD6A/s1600/xmas11-2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 273px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyH-Lirw8w_lkHkrDYrFkpAz12ljVgK8MGf2WV-6cjWAYHpAWeFvHQXllXXltiw9Mx_kA4bbcgJYhjzkJB09XqnS4lgpzRIOO0stGdPFuHqUSQJi91xMFcyiohw2ag1i9Q23pel6mPD6A/s400/xmas11-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674113781261492514" border="0" /></a><p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> Nativity.. Alastair Price</span><br /></p> <p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p>Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-14881536964146039612011-09-20T16:59:00.018+02:002011-09-20T21:52:28.386+02:00Dances with Bretons<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEithqFPluXhJkAreOWRtfNZEchTyP_S8aAMmfqOg0V6tKFPiWH6iiy40TAqfMPNoQ7FNVpqM_zlT5UHyombvuphhn6HSzYfN3b2we0smp0m53-XkDhXhSNv7ofqoKtwKLJxj6VnDyM_8eo/s1600/stquaydancing.jpg"><br /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ATgXAOEY4WjpgPWSjIgb1qHhJha6awM4XtUYi0_TYvoJaBx1U4BAdKwdO1JwlGSDQCeyFIru5a8-9B7mxeQIkqPSzO3P831zPBC6HU3X5QMUtU9sWtgO0z0Ex11T-FXdDblap7plYG4/s1600/Stquaytideout.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 279px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ATgXAOEY4WjpgPWSjIgb1qHhJha6awM4XtUYi0_TYvoJaBx1U4BAdKwdO1JwlGSDQCeyFIru5a8-9B7mxeQIkqPSzO3P831zPBC6HU3X5QMUtU9sWtgO0z0Ex11T-FXdDblap7plYG4/s400/Stquaytideout.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654520949868004146" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">St.Quay, the old port</span><br /><br /></div>Brittany in September is recuperating from the summer influx of tourists and Parisians.<br />We drive on quieter roads to see our friend, Yann Lozet, up the coast from here.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK6ANH8hS4ZPHqkaKHRyzhtkfXvqLov8GNRKpmW9CDEkRUCIh3MNCVWBjng32xcAY0vqFjoTwsqjGFfFAtpl2Gu6Z1NKho8hEn_Tr4ulABSnDojVdnFVqFFT_dF6kdnAjyblkiwzhHhAM/s1600/alyann-001.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 155px; height: 180px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654485950652847842" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK6ANH8hS4ZPHqkaKHRyzhtkfXvqLov8GNRKpmW9CDEkRUCIh3MNCVWBjng32xcAY0vqFjoTwsqjGFfFAtpl2Gu6Z1NKho8hEn_Tr4ulABSnDojVdnFVqFFT_dF6kdnAjyblkiwzhHhAM/s320/alyann-001.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Yann is a true bagpipe-playing, bombarde-blowing Breton, but at six foot eight in height, he's far from 'traditionally built'.<br />Our connection with his family goes back a very long way.<br />Before the Second world War, Mr. Price's father was still at school in Wolverhampton and had a French penpal called Christian Savary. When war broke out he heard nothing from him for several years.<br />Then in 1944 came the sad news from Christians sister, Denise. He'd joined the Resistance movement and had been captured and executed by the Germans in Rennes.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimA66JDxSxtJayD9T-cI8A9RFjMQLdxT6n-ZiEVsdTqVGjjS2Y3OA_axSlk2PJ6FnK4sqaxawKbyvt2hUQD-_8VZQ0SlyWYCAlg_G0FkvRgIZ_1MxmICrfuJaU93AIE7zJKB3CIxEGWrc/s1600/frenchmilitia+arrest+resistants+ps.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 306px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimA66JDxSxtJayD9T-cI8A9RFjMQLdxT6n-ZiEVsdTqVGjjS2Y3OA_axSlk2PJ6FnK4sqaxawKbyvt2hUQD-_8VZQ0SlyWYCAlg_G0FkvRgIZ_1MxmICrfuJaU93AIE7zJKB3CIxEGWrc/s320/frenchmilitia+arrest+resistants+ps.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654520266969894034" border="0" /></a><br />The correspondence continued with Denise, however, for around fifty years.<br />It's up to us, now, to keep up the contact.<br />Yann's invited us to see him playing, and, after a spot of sketching before dusk, we find ourselves in a large hall packed with dancers. We're strongly encouraged to join in with the jollifications and after an hour my calves are aching and I'm still confusing the hops, skips and jumps. There are so many different dances, each with its own local versions.... gavottes, ficels, bals and avants-deux.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpyoAJNG6-GXAenUmutgSRu92r4qFZfvuiiwmkg3wkIbCf-z0SUyewzaTBadtZm8mhisfxDYB6-fWNQCJKPeDpRC029RuO7BIgowIVYq42Z4MJg13TsYxQePPHDA4RmPHrYSzFne7hjWU/s1600/frenchmilitia+arrest+resistants+ps.jpg"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwQGY0Z_Wx6CuEGggIkIzCjhmG5vs827OqOi2eyzDSwxdP23aOzNpiW_ImDGkrByAK-vKnzz8NrRB0BxsloqA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></a><br /></div><br /><br />Hurray, here's a refreshment break. We drink cider and there's chocolate cake. Curiously, in a big earthenware pot, there's rice pudding, which people try bravely to eat from floppy paper plates, until some bright spark produces plastic bowls.<br />More bewildering dances with some of the throng taking themselves very seriously, and beginners, like ourselves, collapsing in giggles. I bet they don't like that.<br />It goes on 'til after midnight- how do they do it?! I want to go to bed, but now we're invited to stay on a while here with Yann and the musicians and organisers, and... to his house afterwards.<br />We drink more cider and eat more cake, and Mr.Price (due to his size) is asked if he's related to Yann, who has to bend double to speak to a lady.<br />"For once, I wasn't the biggest bloke in the room" he says on the way home, at half-past two in the morning.<br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Caroline Johnson</span><br /></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEithqFPluXhJkAreOWRtfNZEchTyP_S8aAMmfqOg0V6tKFPiWH6iiy40TAqfMPNoQ7FNVpqM_zlT5UHyombvuphhn6HSzYfN3b2we0smp0m53-XkDhXhSNv7ofqoKtwKLJxj6VnDyM_8eo/s1600/stquaydancing.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 507px; height: 260px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEithqFPluXhJkAreOWRtfNZEchTyP_S8aAMmfqOg0V6tKFPiWH6iiy40TAqfMPNoQ7FNVpqM_zlT5UHyombvuphhn6HSzYfN3b2we0smp0m53-XkDhXhSNv7ofqoKtwKLJxj6VnDyM_8eo/s400/stquaydancing.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654521345557196146" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;"> <span style="font-style: italic;">Breton Dancing at St Quay</span></span><br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK6ANH8hS4ZPHqkaKHRyzhtkfXvqLov8GNRKpmW9CDEkRUCIh3MNCVWBjng32xcAY0vqFjoTwsqjGFfFAtpl2Gu6Z1NKho8hEn_Tr4ulABSnDojVdnFVqFFT_dF6kdnAjyblkiwzhHhAM/s1600/alyann-001.jpg"><br /></a>Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732916056750859428.post-38956751822298070652011-08-09T16:30:00.013+02:002011-08-09T17:47:14.637+02:00Holiday Time!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisE4FMUfnsrwI1CNLKhve9IinnLnjUJ25A3p5rOXjSOsCv-JJfPwZvazg15ofQLHQ4tutWpTJwVjdJkKgY8dsg7Ndz4JESKUl_DJV5m_GKqAB2Vy36vC-qy4Lnr4t_PeuWLCgULMJ_JKA/s1600/dinard-001.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 505px; height: 368px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisE4FMUfnsrwI1CNLKhve9IinnLnjUJ25A3p5rOXjSOsCv-JJfPwZvazg15ofQLHQ4tutWpTJwVjdJkKgY8dsg7Ndz4JESKUl_DJV5m_GKqAB2Vy36vC-qy4Lnr4t_PeuWLCgULMJ_JKA/s400/dinard-001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638873636336939554" border="0" /></a>
<br />It's the holidays, the family are over and we're busy visiting favourite places. While the 'children' and grandchildren play it's a great opportunity to get some sketches done.
<br />What a delight to sit on a sunny beach, lean against a rock and draw this lovely scene!
<br />This beautiful 'maison de maitre' at Dinard was built in the late eighteen-hundreds and is called 'Les Roches Brunes'.
<br />It was bequeathed to the town and exhibitions are now held here.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7aTr5zzYI_jOOnOSxh1NXI2yCSBYm7THQvg9fBW59Oc8qL-l9eJR74u4w_147labHiGarDsRrfNIKCYvYwrqjyalmarjD3FHj_bU3jRHYDn_4v47cGYndbTdxXviZn1V4fWDqzudAzIQ/s1600/penguen1-001.jpg">
<br /></a>
<br />Another popular place for a day out is the heavenly Pen-Guen beach.
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7aTr5zzYI_jOOnOSxh1NXI2yCSBYm7THQvg9fBW59Oc8qL-l9eJR74u4w_147labHiGarDsRrfNIKCYvYwrqjyalmarjD3FHj_bU3jRHYDn_4v47cGYndbTdxXviZn1V4fWDqzudAzIQ/s1600/penguen1-001.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 527px; height: 357px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7aTr5zzYI_jOOnOSxh1NXI2yCSBYm7THQvg9fBW59Oc8qL-l9eJR74u4w_147labHiGarDsRrfNIKCYvYwrqjyalmarjD3FHj_bU3jRHYDn_4v47cGYndbTdxXviZn1V4fWDqzudAzIQ/s400/penguen1-001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638864704777055314" border="0" /></a>
<br />Between dips in the sea I practise drawing the chaos of rocks at the foot of the cliffs....
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYammF6I6vJp9RO5jhAUWvEbEgetcLQwqEolHmTQ3sT4vL6u64AoGyNDgQLMgrN3TxkCGcRQsgcrDp-KnvBk9OWIv5Ex25jFnjiuqY8pg6_rBtPO1M0-dak-Da3XPJpPgc8lbNfbb2EH0/s1600/Penguen2-001.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 524px; height: 391px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYammF6I6vJp9RO5jhAUWvEbEgetcLQwqEolHmTQ3sT4vL6u64AoGyNDgQLMgrN3TxkCGcRQsgcrDp-KnvBk9OWIv5Ex25jFnjiuqY8pg6_rBtPO1M0-dak-Da3XPJpPgc8lbNfbb2EH0/s400/Penguen2-001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638868231606519490" border="0" /></a> ..........while Mr Price sketches his favourite subject- people.
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidRZmXs4ZsL0DhqIwRJ9Drpmijul94vQXz1nc4cSfFfuZ1aQij1hyphenhyphenP-W_DVjHF2D3hWHuvRMfTUUaHVa3tzTW5ODmCP-RQI7HtoA0awHxdh9jOKwoVRx35hXc8nx6H3kbLuREEEg6J81M/s1600/Al-sam-001.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 282px; height: 229px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidRZmXs4ZsL0DhqIwRJ9Drpmijul94vQXz1nc4cSfFfuZ1aQij1hyphenhyphenP-W_DVjHF2D3hWHuvRMfTUUaHVa3tzTW5ODmCP-RQI7HtoA0awHxdh9jOKwoVRx35hXc8nx6H3kbLuREEEg6J81M/s200/Al-sam-001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638868682540894066" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl0wcu4nBIr-MygJJIZThy-RiyN_z_pqJ7fHYZ5tEtU-jX9H-aruMPSexqR_q2tIzT9aC3gPVkN-kLNXL-9SzIeE3CEWaktviRWkOJXH_x0zqjQnDeMV8wPELi3I2aak5bmtENmnLE2SI/s1600/Al-roo-001.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 444px; height: 285px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl0wcu4nBIr-MygJJIZThy-RiyN_z_pqJ7fHYZ5tEtU-jX9H-aruMPSexqR_q2tIzT9aC3gPVkN-kLNXL-9SzIeE3CEWaktviRWkOJXH_x0zqjQnDeMV8wPELi3I2aak5bmtENmnLE2SI/s200/Al-roo-001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638868494282921282" border="0" /></a>
<br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Caroline Johnson, Rennes and Manchester</span>
<br />Carolinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10045812978614550446noreply@blogger.com1