Breaking News ! The Sun has got his hat on….
It is a beautiful spring day and Bath is full of visitors. There is a queue in York Street for gelato ice-creams and the road works at the end of the street, involving the installation of state-of-the-art sliding bollards, is nearing completion. The buskers in the square are doing their thing in the sun next to the beautiful Abbey and sun is bouncing off the biscuit coloured Georgian bathstone. The gallery is a place for respite, it is quiet within and you can enjoy the shadows that the sun throws on to the sculptures.
Nichoola Theakston ‘Resting with Ancients.’ Bronze, Ed. of 12 £7,950
with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridges to bow from the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water thanking it
standing by the windows looking out
in our directions
back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you
over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the door
and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks we are saying thank you
in the faces of the officials and the rich
and of all who will never change
we go on saying thank you thank you
with the animals dying around us
taking our feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
thank you we are saying and waving
dark though it is
Thanks by W. S. Merwin
Jenny Pockley’s painitngs are calming to look at. There is somethng quietly awe-inspiring in twilight on a mountain peak.
Yeats contemplated the mountains of his dreams as a far flung totem of agelessness
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
Nichola Theakston’s sculptures have an archetypal, ancient look to them
This tranquil, beautiful painintg by Gill Rocca has been extremely popular amongst visitors to the gallery this week…
Around Bath the road verges, parks and gardens are bedecked with daffodils, narcissi and now grape hyacinths and tulips. Lara Scobie’s brightly decorated ceramics too have captured the optimistic vernal mood, and the advent of sunshine.
And last but not least….
Human beings suffer,
They torture one another,
They get hurt and get hard.
No poem or play or song
Can fully right a wrong
Inflicted and endured
History says, don’t hope
On this side of the grave.
But then, once in a lifetime
The longed-for tidal wave
Of justice can rise up,
And hope and history rhyme.
So hope for a great sea-change
On the far side of revenge.
Believe that further shore
Is reachable from here.
Believe in miracle
And cures and healing wells.
Call miracle self-healing:
The utter, self-revealing
Double-take of feeling.
If there’s fire on the mountain
Or lightning and storm
And a god speaks from the sky
That means someone is hearing
The outcry and the birth-cry
of new life at its term.
Seamus Heaney from The Cure at Troy
Click on the images above for links to the relevant pages on the website.
Please message, email or call for more information.
Thank you for reading, and peaceful regards to one and all.