Aardvark, Low-Fired Ceramic, 28 x 62 cm. £3,000


Please note we will be open 7 days a week from now until Christmas.

As visitors to the Christmas market amble past the gallery, this aardvark by Nick Mackman is on a perambulation of his own, quiet but alert, keeping a watchful eye for any termites that might make a delicious snack. He might find some local cheese, farmhouse cider, or even a wooden tie. On a sunny November day like today you never know who might be hanging out reading a book from Toppings….


Beth Carter Reading Minotaur V,  Bronze  53 x 40 x 29 cm.


Or perhaps espy people stopping for tea at the Abbey Green Deli:

“Let us not speak, for the love we bear one another—
Let us hold hands and look.”
She such a very ordinary little woman;
He such a thumping crook;
But both, for a moment, little lower than the angels
In the teashop’s ingle-nook.”

‘In a Bath Teashop’ by John Betjeman

I imagine the couple in this poem could be using one of the perfectly formed and beautifully glazed tea-sets of Chris Keenan.


C100-C105. Tenmoku and celadon tea set with red “writing” Cup: 7 x 5 cm
Pot: 21 x 15.5 cm (incl spout). £700 the set


C96-C99. Celadon and tenmoku tea set with green markings Cup: 5 x 8.5 cm
Pot: 18 x 13 cm (incl spout). £500 the set


Autumn leaves are still colourfully strewn around Bath as the mild weather continues. Rob Pittam’s painting is timely:

Crab and Autumn Leaves, Acrylic on Board, 34 x 34 cm (57x 57 cm framed). £925


and on things that drift by…

So early it’s still almost dark out.
I’m near the window with coffee,
and the usual early morning stuff
that passes for thought.
When I see the boy and his friend
walking up the road
to deliver the newspaper.
They wear caps and sweaters,
and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
They are so happy
they aren’t saying anything, these boys.
I think if they could, they would take
each other’s arm.
It’s early in the morning,
and they are doing this thing together.
They come on, slowly.
The sky is taking on light,
though the moon still hangs pale over the water.
Such beauty that for a minute
death and ambition, even love,
doesn’t enter into this.
Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
any early morning talk about it.

Raymond Carver  Happiness

And finally….



The splendours of the firmament of time
       May be eclips’d, but are extinguish’d not;
       Like stars to their appointed height they climb,
       And death is a low mist which cannot blot
       The brightness it may veil. When lofty thought
       Lifts a young heart above its mortal lair,
       And love and life contend in it for what
       Shall be its earthly doom, the dead live there
And move like winds of light on dark and stormy air.

Shelley cf ‘An Elegy on the Death of John Keats’.