London Art Fair 16-21 January
Christmas trees have come down, twelfth night has come and gone, as has the feast of the epiphany. Family gatherings have been enjoyed or survived or both. So for fathers and daughters…
Gregory Orr ‘Father’s Song’Yesterday, against admonishment,my daughter balanced on the couch back,fell and cut her mouth.Because I saw it happen I knewshe was not hurt, and yeta child’s blood so redit stops a father’s heart.My daughter cried her tears;I held some iceagainst her lip.That was the end of it.Round and round: bow and kiss.I try to teach her caution;she tries to teach me riskAnd as we prepare for the London Art Fair, a self-portrait of the artist as a father…
And an oft-quoted passage from Twelfth Night‘If music be the food of love, play on;Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,The appetite may sicken, and so die.That strain again! it had a dying fall:O, it came o’er my ear like the sweet sound,That breathes upon a bank of violets,Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more:‘Tis not so sweet now as it was before.O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,That, notwithstanding thy capacityReceiveth as the sea, nought enters there,Of what validity and pitch soe’er,But falls into abatement and low price,Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancyThat it alone is high fantastical’We will have a limited amount of new work at London Art Fair by the phenomenon that is Akiko Hirai.
Fresh from her exhibition at Louvre-Lens, the centrepiece of our presentation at the art fair will be a brand new larger than life-size bronze sculpture by Beth Carter (to be unveiled for the first time at the fair).
The Faun in the image below is pictured admiring the fritillaries in the beautiful gardens of Iford Manor outside Bath.
And finally, on these dark nights walking home I try and take Wendell Berry’s advice and enjoy the dark. If I am lucky a tawny owl will break the silence. Yesterday evening we also had our first scant flurries of snow…‘Snowy Night’ by Mary Oliver
‘Last night, an owlin the blue darktossed an indeterminate numberof carefully shaped sounds intothe world, in which,a quarter of a mile away, I happenedto be standing.I couldn’t tellwhich one it was –the barred or the great-hornedship of the air –it was that distant. But, anyway,aren’t there momentsthat are better than knowing something,and sweeter? Snow was falling,so much like starsfilling the dark treesthat one could easily imagineits reason for being was nothing morethan prettiness. I supposeif this were someone else’s storythey would have insisted on knowingwhatever is knowable – would have hurriedover the fieldsto name it – the owl, I mean.But it’s mine, this poem of the night,and I just stood there, listening and holding outmy hands to the soft glitterfalling through the air. I love this world,but not for its answers.And I wish good luck to the owl,whatever its name –and I wish great welcome to the snow,whatever its severe and comfortlessand beautiful meaning.’
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We have a limited number of tickets for London Art Fair still available. It takes place from 16- 21 January at the Business Design Centre in Upper Street, Islington. Please message back if you would like a ticket. The gallery is open as normal, 10-5 Monday to Saturday.Thanks as always for reading.Aidan.