Happy New Year to one and all.
We were all looking forward to showing off some new work at the London Art Fair, which was due to be staged this week, at the Business Design Centre in Upper Street Islington.
The new dates are 20 – 24 April.
Our winter selection continues in the gallery. Among new work on display we have wonderful ceramic pots by Paul Philp:
Also among the ceramics on display, this gorgeous celadon/ temnoku tea-set by ex Edmund de Waal apprentice Chris Keenan:
There is a beautiful sprinkling of iron oxide glaze among the dark tenmoku colour in the well of the tea-cups.
The celadon itself is crackled and delicious.
The tea-set is so perfectly formed and glazed. Chris’s work is so perfectly still..
Silence and stealth of days ! ‘Tis now,
Since thou art gone,
Twelve hundred hours, and not a brow
But clouds hang on.
As he that in some cave’s thick damp,
Lock’d from the light,
Fixeth a solitary lamp
To brave the night,
And walking from his Sun, when past
That glimm’ring ray,
Cuts through the heavy mists in haste
Back to his day …
-Henry Vaughan Silence and Stealth of Days
The dog, unlike the hippos in the children’s song, does not enjoy the mud, though he still seems to be able to recycle a fair amount of it at home.
We pass The Crocker Tree late in the afternoon, see Andrew Crocker’s work on our website.
With the art fair postponed until April, here is a taster of what we will have on show at the London Art Fair – family portraits by Nathan Ford:
Nathan Ford Self 8.21 Oil and Pencil on Birch Panel 74 x 58 cm.
Sculpture by Anna Gillespie:
Anna Gillespie Atlantic Bronze, Ed. 9 W 22 x H 24 x D8 cm.
Ceramics by Akiko Hirai:
Photo credit: Nigel Dutt
It is that time of the year.
When all the others were away at Mass
I was all hers as we peeled potatoes.
They broke the silence, let fall one by one
Like solder weeping off the soldering iron:
Cold comforts set between us, things to share
Gleaming in a bucket of clean water.
And again let fall. Little pleasant splashes
From each other’s work would bring us to our senses.
So while the parish priest at her bedside
Went hammer and tongs at the prayers for the dying
And some were responding and some crying
I remembered her head bent towards my head,
Her breath in mine, our fluent dipping knives–
Never closer the whole rest of our lives.
Thank you for reading,