Watching the big poplars next to the Avon in Bath swaying in the cool wind.

I wonder about the trees.
Why do we wish to bear
Forever the noise of these
More than another noise
So close to our dwelling place?
We suffer them by the day
Till we lose all measure of pace,
And fixity in our joys,
And acquire a listening air.
They are that that talks of going
But never gets away;
And that talks no less for knowing,
As it grows wiser and older,
That now it means to stay.
My feet tug at the floor
And my head sways to my shoulder
Sometimes when I watch trees sway,
From the window or the door.
I shall set forth for somewhere,
I shall make the reckless choice
Some day when they are in voice
And tossing so as to scare
The white clouds over them on.
I shall have less to say,
But I shall be gone.

Robert Frost – The Sound of Trees


You on the World, Oil on Panel
53 x 45 cm £6,000


Andrew’s painting has an autumnal feel about it, as does this poem by summer-born and summer-lovin (?) Philip Larkin.

My mother, who hates thunder storms,
Holds up each summer day and shakes
It out suspiciously, lest swarms
Of grape-dark clouds are lurking there;
But when the August weather breaks
And rains begin, and brittle frost
Sharpens the bird-abandoned air,
Her worried summer look is lost,

And I her son, though summer-born
And summer-loving, none the less
Am easier when the leaves are gone
Too often summer days appear
Emblems of perfect happiness
I can’t confront: I must await
A time less bold, less rich, less clear:
An autumn more appropriate.

-Mother, Summer, I


During this exhibition I have so enjoyed sitting next to this large Laurie Steen drawing.  At first glance its translucent quality gives it something of a stained glass feel. I look up occasionally to check that the trees and shrubs in the bottom half of the drawing are not swaying.  Perhpas it is the effect of walking in this morning amid the cool breeze that is tempering the hot summer sun. It will be warmer tomorrow (Saturday).  A good day to visit Bath (as if there is ever a bad one).

The harmony of the world, Conte, Pastel, Pencil on Archival Mylar Paper, 102.5 cm x 136.5 cm (incl frame) £7,000


Beth Carter  Minotaur Holding Horn, Bronze, Ed. 10 50 x 66 x 36 cm.  £11,700


Not long until our Beth Carter show. Beth currently has three bronzes on show in Mougins in Southern France at invitation of the Musée d’Art Classique de Mougins, part of the 50th anniversary of Picasso’s death.

Picasso spent the last twelve years of his life in Mougins, in his villa next to the exquisite Notre Dame de Vie Chapel, until he died in April 1973. Two of Beth’s giant bronze sculptures are now in the grounds of the Chapel, and a smaller scale Minotaur is inside surrounded by a collection of photos of Picasso taken by Lucien Clergue.

The Musée d’Art classique de Mougins have also have purchased a small bronze minotaur sculpture for their collection. It is currently displayed in front of Picasso’s images of the ‘Dying Minotaur’.

Beth has now also been invited to be part of an exhibition at the Louvre in Lens September of this year.

Obviously we are delighted to see her work gaining such well-deserved recognition.

A reminder, if you haven’t seen it, to watch the short film we did on Beth a couple of years ago, wherein she answers the question ‘Why the minotaur’?
Click the picture below for the film.



Beth Carter’s Sitting Minotaur, part of the permanent collection of the Musée d’Art Classique de Mougins, underneath Picasso’s drawing of the dying minotaur.

Also exhibiting will be paintings by Bobbie Russon, for her first solo exhibition at Beaux Arts.


Personal Space, Oil on Panel 30 x 20 cm. Sold


And finally.

It’s always about the personal life, it seems to me.  We go through whatever we go through, and when we are suffering we mostly carry it, and some excluding myself, are better at carrying it than others, who also carry whatever they are carrying, as being somhow better adjusted to life, happier, even luckier.  Fiction, if it is serious, always takes us inside, we see the turmoil there, and we’re privy to the secrets.  And mostly our impulse is to sympathise, or at least identify, and we want to understand, we feel the right to know what it all means- not as philosophy or opinion, but in terms of the arc of life being revealed.  We are that amazing species- marvellously creative and immeasurably destructive at one and the same time- that actually seeks to feel for others, and – think of it – actually seeks to feel for MADE UP others, who never really existed.  That is all quite obvious of course, but it’s surprising how often we forget it, attempting to make some universal expression.  The personal life IS universal. And there is a common brave, enigmatic, mostly unfathomable human heart.  The inexhaustible subject.

-Richard Bausch

Click on the images above for links to the artists’ pages on our website.

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