The last couple of weeks have been hectic. I thought things would calm down after the lighthouse exhibition weekend, but I’ve been as busy as ever. I’m still finalising some of the details of the Textures of Spurn gallery tour and have had various meetings and correspondance to do with that. I’ve also been fulfilling some small commissions – more on those in another post.
Yesterday I went to the The Hepworth and Yorkshire Sculpture Park on a little Richard Long pilgrimage. I’ve been an admirer of his work for some time but hadn’t seen any in the flesh. The exhibition at the Hepworth finishes this weekend so I just managed to catch it. It was good to see familiar works as framed images as well as actual work on the gallery floor. I struggled a bit with seeing such works in a stark gallery setting, especially with minimal interpretation for those visitors who might not be so familiar with his work, so I felt much more comfortable with his piece at the Sculpture Park.
The light yesterday was beautiful – a glorious autumn day with all the colours and smells to go with it.
I was as fascinated by the natural sculptures as I was the man-made ones and spent a long time with these silhouetted foxglove seed stems.
I spent a couple of hours in my garden the other day. It was sunny and mild and the perfect opportunity to clear some of the debris left from Summer’s abundance and to collect some seed before it all falls to the ground, and before British wintertime began with the clocks changing.
I gathered seed and/or seed heads from poppies, fennel, aquilegia, love-in-the-mist, cerinthe and from some runner beans that had been left on the plant far too long to make pleasant eating.
While I sorted them for storage I laid them out, enjoying the different seed heads and forms of the seeds.
Then I put them away into paper bags, ready for a new season and, hopefully, for a new garden.
The bleating of sheep (why do they always sound so desperate?) and incessant rush of water in the river, low with lack of rain, was the sound track to my Saturday afternoon.
This was the Ribble near Settle, in the Yorkshire Dales. A dipper in the river darted back and forth, alighting on rocks, doing as its name suggests. A baby great tit, surely too young to fly, sat helplessly in the grass, its mother shouting at us to go away from the riverside trees. Warm air; sun comes and goes amidst broken cloud and is then further interrupted by the ever moving leaves of a large ash tree. The perfect place to spend a langourous afternoon.
Then suddenly the mood changes, cool breeze, spots of rain, dark clouds looming.
Walking back to the station there is all sorts of detail to be distracted by: A dock leaf like lace…
a purple cow parsley leaf…
spiky buttercup seed heads…
various umbellifers in seed…
delicate buds, tightly closed now the sun has gone in