The Journey Of Things

At the Sainsbury Centre in Norwich to see Magdalene Odundo’s exhibition The Journey of Things, a celebration of 45 years of her amazing hand-built pots, featuring many of her iconic vessel sculptures, and accompanied by a history, or rather a herstory, of inspirational encounters along the way – touchstones first seen at the British Museum, the Commonwealth Institute, the Museum of Mankind, the Pitt Rivers Museum, Kettle’s Yard and the Sainsbury Centre itself, to name but a few. Continue reading “The Journey Of Things”

Frames of reference

A Walk To Sainsbury’s

We were in Norwich recently, staying at a hotel in the city but eager to visit the Sainsbury Centre just out of town. We were advised to take a taxi because buses were temporarily diverted. “It will take you about half an hour on foot but it’s not a pleasant walk. Better to cab it.” And yet, despite the advice, we walked it, and the sun came out, and the way was lined with trees and other hopeful signs. Continue reading “A Walk To Sainsbury’s”

Frames of reference

November Pots

A windowful of pots, painted pots by David Stubbs and thrown pots by Chris Keenan, cool paintings, tactile vessels, handmade studies in repetition and variation, they’re all the result of a purposeful ritual and a prolonged gaze. Reflections of the artists’ hand and eye. Look closely and you’ll see me taking the photograph with one of David’s painted pots! Continue reading “November Pots”

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Newton St George

It sounds like it might be the name of a village, somewhere in Devon perhaps, deep in the countryside; but no, it’s a display of paintings by Robert Newton and ceramics by Florence St George. Neither artist is from Devon but both make work that looks like it was extracted from the countryside, evidence of the land, pieces of earth. They’re together in The Rowley Gallery window throughout March. Continue reading “Newton St George”

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Neapolis Archaeological Park

Last August, on holiday in Sicily, a short walk out of Ortigia through the hot dusty streets of Syracuse brought us to Neapolis, one of the largest archaeological sites in the Mediterranean. The entrance is beside the little Norman church of San Nicolò dei Cordari, which was built over part of an aisled Roman piscina, a reservoir to provide water for the nearby amphitheatre.  Continue reading “Neapolis Archaeological Park”

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In The Bleak Midwinter


A bright window packed with small beauties for these dark days, a fast-moving festive feast for the eyes. As works sell they will be replaced by more in an ongoing ever-changing pageant of delights.  Continue reading “In The Bleak Midwinter”

Frames of reference

Passeggiata In Ortigia

passeggiata /ˌpasɛˈdʒɑːtə/ noun (especially in Italy or Italian-speaking areas) a leisurely walk or stroll, especially one taken in the evening for the purpose of socializing.”

Ortigia is a small island, just under 1km square, attached to the Sicilian city of Syracuse by three road bridges. “It forms the charming old town, best explored on foot and certainly the most pleasant place to stay in the city.” We were there for two weeks this summer and during our stay we discovered many circuitous routes as we strolled around its maze of ancient streets and alleyways. Continue reading “Passeggiata In Ortigia”

Frames of reference

Still Life Still Life

A selection of chalk-pencil drawings by Aaron Kasmin displayed in the Rowley Gallery window together with the objects that inspired them – the depictions and the depicted. The objects are not for sale but the pictures are; they’re souvenirs, simulacra, tokens of affection. Continue reading “Still Life Still Life”

Frames of reference

Tree Of Life & Other Stories

This Tree of Life by Jazmin Velasco is a variation on the traditional Árbol de la Vida from Puebla and Metepec in her native Mexico. Rather than depicting the more usual biblical story of creation, Jazmin has chosen to illustrate her own version of the Garden of Eden, with cats and birds in harmony. Continue reading “Tree Of Life & Other Stories”

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In Lincoln

The approach to Lincoln was long and flat with wide vistas of huge arable fields, along straight roads accompanied by oversized tractors, through countryside reminiscent of the industrial-scale farms of northern France. But lest we should forget where we were, on the outskirts of the city a little old lady stood on the pavement nodding involuntarily at the passing traffic, waving a St George’s Cross with the word England written across it. A radicalised ukipper standing her ground against the waves of migrant workers come to steal her crops… But then we saw the cathedral. Continue reading “In Lincoln”

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