Another abstract in an ongoing series of small mixed media works on canvas…
[Pompeii, collagraph and painting on paper and canvas, 5" x 5"]
Wikimedia led me to this pictorial reference for the above abstract (titled after its original creation) since these works are entirely about colour and texture, yet with a little analysis they link back to another place, another time… in this instance, to the remains of a villa in Pompeii…
Wall frescoes in the house of Lucretius, Pompeii (image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons)
The red (Pompeiian red is also a pigment) and grey stripes appear to reference the patterned wall frescoes of the ancient villas, and of the stonework and structure of the interconnected streets and avenues of ancient Pompeii.
Many years ago I visited Pompeii… Although I didn’t realise it then, the ancient relics and the eroded, weathered facades of Italy, Greece and Turkey were to become a creative muse of sorts… I would love to go back to these places, with the benefit of wiser eyes… but I would probably take far too many photographs…
These are from an old photo album (I wonder how many people still compile photographs in albums these days, after the advent of digital photography and online sites such as flickr?). That’s me in the lower left picture, drinking from the water fountain (of youth!)… which prompted another visit to everyone’s favourite photo album Flickr to see how many others had recorded this very same location at Pompeii…
Google Maps has recently visited Pompeii too, so I persevered with Google’s virtual Street View and retraced my steps back to the original site of the water fountain…
Even with these many thoughts of distant travel on my mind, I would like to be homebound for a while… (if only to get on with some more artwork).
I had a horrid drive home from work the other evening, in what at first seemed to be sporadic snowfall – but about two thirds into my homeward journey it turned into a heavy blizzard. The falling snow quickly compacted to a sheet of ice under the weight of the rush hour traffic, as the main road had not been salted or gritted. My journey, which normally takes about an hour, in the end took three and a half hours. The queue of traffic slowed to a near standstill about ten miles from home, as the drivers ahead were finding it increasingly difficult to drive with any degree of control or safety.
The road was becoming near impassable – after two hours slow-driving on the most nervous of tenterhooks I didn’t want to have to drive any more. A couple of miles further on and I decided to abandon any hope of getting home by car and parked my vehicle on a wide bit of the roadside verge. I could see that some cars ahead were sliding on the ice and a large articulated truck had got into difficulty going uphill, stopping any flow of traffic – it was fast becoming an accident zone (and I do blame the council and those who said the snow and ice wouldn’t amount to much). Lots of cars were stuck in a static queue (myself included), occasionally crawling forward feeling the ever-present danger of the inevitable wobble and slide.
After I had parked up, I walked along the snaking line of the (now) stationary vehicles, and, as you do in a crisis, you empathise with their dilemma and then share a little rant about the council not gritting the roads (yet again) – but this time it was serious. Taking a slightly safer snow-underfoot path, I walked the half-mile or so into the nearby town, where a good friend and now saviour (after providing a much-needed cup of piping-hot tea) decided they would take the risk and drive me the last few glacial miles to my door – the drive was quite dicey in places, but arriving home has never felt so good.
I declined the early morning lift to pick up the car on the way to work, and decided I would instead walk the four or so miles back to the roadside verge later in the day. It was very cold but sunny as I set off and much of the snow had already melted – belying the ice-frightmare of the night before. Aside from the hassle of passing traffic (climbing high up onto the verge is always the safest procedure), the walk was quite relaxing – and not entirely without incident. A few minutes into this bracing midday stroll, I passed the small boatyard by one of the nearby lakes and was instantly captivated by the most unusual tinkling sounds coming from beyond the roadside hedgerow. A strong breeze, blowing through the hidden tangle of ropes, wires and chains of the boats’ fixtures and moorings, had made an uintentional but quite magical melody. Click here to listen.. breeze-created sounds from the boatyard
[boatyard]
The same wind that brought in the blinding white flurry of a blizzard the evening before, that forced the wind-chill that plummeted the temperatures to below zero, that created the perilous sheets of ice on the roads, the very next day quietly sang to me when no one else was around…
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This weekend is the last chance to see the contemporary art exhibition, Elements: Man and the Environment, at the Forum, Norwich (read more about my work in the Elements exhibition).
