Coming up later this year we will be attending the ‘Blast’ art fair at the Saatchi Gallery, 28 September to 2 October. One of our featured artists there will be the inimitable Nathan Ford. There is a Gwen John look about this portrait of Nathan’s partner.

Anna 8.21, Oil on Board, 73 x 57 cm. £3,500

 

Nathan has painted portraits of himself, his wife and his two sons throughout his 20 odd year career. It is fascinating to see them grow older.  That reminds me…

I don’t believe in age.
All old people
carry
in their eyes,
a child,
and children,
at times
observe us with the
eyes of wise ancients.
Shall we measure
life
in meters or kilometers
or months?
How far since you were born?
How long
must you wander
until
like all men
instead of walking on its surface
we rest below the earth?
To the man, to the woman
who utilized their
energies, goodness, strength,
anger, love, tenderness,
to those who truly
alive
flowered,
and in their sensuality matured,
let us not apply
the measure
of a time
that may be
something else, a mineral
mantle, a solar
bird, a flower,
something, maybe,
but not a measure.
Time, metal
or bird, long
petiolate flower,
stretch
through
man’s life,
shower him
with blossoms
and with
bright
water
or with hidden sun.
I proclaim you
road,
not shroud,
a pristine
ladder
with treads
of air,
a suit lovingly
renewed
through springtimes
around the world.
Now,
time, I roll you up,
I deposit you in my
bait box
and I am off to fish
with your long line
the fishes of the dawn!” –

– Pablo Neruda, ‘Ode to Age’

The sun continues its work in throwing shapes around Ashraf’s gorgeous pots.  One more week to see these in the gallery !

 

33. Ivory Undulating Pinch Pot, Ashraf Hanna Clay, 12 x 15 x 12 cm. £500

 

31. Cut and Altered Chartreuse Pinch Pot, Ashraf Hanna Clay, 10 x 12 x 11 cm. £400

 

 

What a difference a day makes. A day separates these photos of paradise found in Wiltshire, taken from John Rennie’s aqueduct.  Quiet flows the Avon….

 

How beautiful is the rain!
After the dust and heat,
In the broad and fiery street,
In the narrow lane,
How beautiful is the rain!

How it clatters along the roofs,
Like the tramp of hoofs
How it gushes and struggles out
From the throat of the overflowing spout!

Across the window-pane
It pours and pours;
And swift and wide,
With a muddy tide,
Like a river down the gutter roars
The rain, the welcome rain!

From Longfellow ‘How Beautiful is the Rain’

Meanwhile it is rush-hour under the aqueduct.  The four cygnets from previous posts have grown somewhat – here they are at Avoncliff. You can just make out 4 juvenile mallards coming in the other direction (n.b. paddling is on the right in Wiltshire).

 

And finally…

It’s going to rain,
God mutters to himself,
as he contemplates
a clear blue sky.
I can feel it in my joints
My rheumatism is killing me
Yes there is a deluge due
Thirty-nine days
And thrity-nine nights,
If I’m not mistaken

Ah! There’s Noah
stretched out in the sun.
What was it
I wanted to tell him

Gerry Murphy ‘Rain (after Martin Sorescu)’ from ‘The Humours of Nothingness’.

david-tress
Kishorn River, Graphite on Paper 39 x 59 cm. £3,400

 

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Thank you for reading.

Aidan