Jane Brocket's Blog, page 31

very still life

Oaxaca Vase with Aubergines, New York [Still Life No. 2] (1997) Evelyn Hofer

This is the photograph I liked the most in the current exhibition at the National Gallery. It's trumpeted as the NG's first-ever exhibition of photography but in fact it's a mix of art and photography. It's as if the NG is not quite ready yet to go out on a limb and declare that photography on its own is worthy of a major exhibition on such august premises. The aproach means every photograph is meant to be viewed with reference to a painting or a genre of painting rather than on its own and, while the exhibition contains some stunning photos and some classic paintings, it still feels a little forced at and the same time somewhat unfocussed.

This beautifully simple and very still still life has many painterly qualities, but I didn't need a painted still life next to it to help me to see this. I found some of the connections very tangential, and I felt the rooms were examples of the most fashionable contemporary trend in curating, that of putting something 'in conversation with' something else. Although it's all meant to be very enlightening, the reality is that these conversations are not always in a language that is easily understood.

[The tickets to get in are not cheap, but I have just bought a National Art Pass which is already beginning to lool like a very good investment.]

thank you colours

 

Thanks, Mum.

And thanks to everyone who reads this blog.

 

edible colours

Taken outside a shop in Borough Market.

button colours

More in The Gentle Art of Stitching.

difficult-to-choose-between colours

Recipes in Vintage Cakes. Cakes made & photographed at home.

 

cosy colours

quilt colours

 

natural primary colours

patience

Sometimes you need to have a little patience with a book. I'm going to come clean and say that the first time I read Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, I didn't get on well with it. I couldn't quite suspend my disbelief/cynicism, call it what you will, and engage with the world of the novel. But when I tried again, I raced through it, enjoying every moment and hour of Miss P's Day.

The same thing happened with Patience by John Coates which has just be republished by Persephone. Although on first reading I found the treatment of the central subject of sex and, in particular, women's enjoyment of sex, brilliantly and delicately done, I didn't engage fully with the book's very particular style and characters, and failed to appreciate how very funny and charming it is. But second time around, I couldn't put it down and loved it right to the very end. This time Patience didn't try my patience, I found Philip utterly delightful (and, it has to said, very seductive), Edward cleverly drawn, and 'poor Lionel' fabulously dried-up and creepy. The parks of London feature heavily, and the book has changed forever my image of Queen Mary's Rose Garden in Regent's Park. But underneath the gentle, light, witty dialogue, there are serious themes of faith, sex, marriage, and women's choices. It's a wonderful book; if at first you don't succeed with it, do try again.

[This Suffolk Puff quilt is proof I do have sufficient patience to spend every evening for a few weeks hand-stitching little circles of fabric into puffs, them sewing them together in a 4 x 4 pattern. Palette-wise, I was inspired by the Ascot scenes/costumes in My Fair Lady]

speed planting

 

It's a record. More bulbs per hour than ever before. I haven't worked out the bulb/m2 ratio or bulb per minute work rate or total number of bulbs planted, but the figures are pretty spectacular compared to previous years, especially as this was me planting on my own.

It's not because I've suddenly developed amazing muscles or have a secret assistant or am on performance enhancing drugs, it's because we now have raised beds in the 'triangle'. We timed it so that they would be built to coincide with tulip-planting, and yesterday the beds were half-filled, leaving a lovely, level expanse of surface for the bulbs to go on before they get covered with six inches of soil. It couldn't be easier; I empty the bags of bulbs, set them out, note the planting order on a plan, and so on until the bed is filled. No back-breaking digging or filling, just pleasant, repetitive lining-up and sorting stuff, the kind children do with toy cars and Playmobil, only a a slightly larger scale.

This morning I planted the larger raised bed in two hours, and am tempted to leave it exposed and as it is for a couple of days just so I can admire the fruits of my labour. However, the soil goes over later, and I move onto the next bed in the morning.

And that time even included a tea break.