From the Mountains to the Sea
-1 April to 28 April

If you are in Bath tomorrow (Saturday 1 April), please come in and see our new show, it is well worth a detour. We have a new collection of bronze sculptures by Nichola Theakston, ceramics by Lara Scobie, and a mixed selection of landscape paintings and drawings. We also provide respite from some seriously Irish weather. So get out of the pure and utter dreich and come and look at some wonderful artworks.

We are here from 10a.m. until 5 p.m.  The painintg below pretty much sums up what it is like to be out on the street at the moment….


Now You Are Free, Acrylic on Paper 83 x 106 cm


There was a time in former years-
While my roof-tree was his–
When I should have been distressed by fears
At such a night as this!

I should have murmured anxiously,
‘The prickling rain strikes cold;
His road is bare of hedge or tree,
And he is getting old.’

But now the fitful chimney-roar,
The drone of Thorncombe trees,
The Froom in flood upon the moor,
The mud of Mellstock Leaze,

The candle slanting sooty-wick’d,
The thuds upon the thatch,
The eaves drops on the window flicked,
The clanking garden-hatch,

And what they mean to wayfarers,
I scarcely heed or mind;
He has won that storm-tight roof of hers
Which Earth grants all her kind.

She Hears The Storm by William Butler Yeats

Though the gallery is an oasis of calm.


As the Sea Returns, Oil on Panel, 20 x 35 cm. Sold


The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveller hastens toward the town,
      And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands,
Efface the footprints in the sands,
      And the tide rises, the tide falls.
The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveller to the shore,
      And the tide rises, the tide falls.

Longfellow  The tide rises, the tide falls

Some denizens of the gallery maintain stoicism at all times despite the weather conditions..
Standing Silverback (Detail 2), Bronze, Ed. of 12, 59 x 47 x 28 cm. £9,850


There is no shortage of colour to provide a feast for the eyes:

L3. Large Vessel with Deep Orange Interior (View 2), Parian Clay, 37 x 17 cm. £1,200


There is no end to the calm that can be felt on contemplating that artworks on show…


Figment LIII, Oil on Birch Ply, 55.5 cm Diameter. £6,000


Toward evening, as the light failed
and the pear tree at my window darkened,
I put down my book and stood at the open door,
the first raindrops gusting in the eaves,
a smell of wet clay in the wind.
Sixty years ago, lying beside my father,
half asleep, on a bed of pine boughs as rain
drummed against our tent, I heard
for the first time a loon’s sudden wail
drifting across that remote lake—
a loneliness like no other,
though what I heard as inconsolable
may have been only the sound of something
untamed and nameless
singing itself to the wilderness around it
and to us until we slept. And thinking of my father
and of good companions gone
into oblivion, I heard the steady sound of rain
and the soft lapping of water, and did not know
whether it was grief or joy or something other
that surged against my heart
and held me listening there so long and late.

Peter Everwine  Rain.

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Thank you for reading,