Rowley Gallery Blog
Over the Pyrenees a week before Easter, en route to Barcelona, the spectacular view a heartbreaking reminder of the suicidal plane crash five days earlier. A flight from Barcelona to Düsseldorf had fallen from the sky onto similar mountains near Barcelonnette in the French Alps. It was impossible not to think of it, to imagine its kamikaze descent, to remember its helpless victims. Continue reading “Flying To Barcelona”
This railway bridge on Wightman Road crosses the Gospel Oak to Barking Line just as it passes under the East Coast Main Line out of Finsbury Park. I regularly cross this bridge, either going to work or coming home and many times I just sit here in a queue of traffic, but the view is often mesmerising, especially when the sun is shining on these timeworn panels of blistered paint. Continue reading “Stations Of The Crossing”
Villa Monastero was on the furthest shore of Lake Como, a long circuitous drive by car from Argegno where we were staying, but just ten minutes by ferry if we drove up to Menaggio. We left the car there and crossed the lake as foot passengers on the autotraghetto to Varenna. Continue reading “To Monastero”
Piazza Vecchia, the Venetian styled centrepiece of Bergamo’s upper town, the medieval Città Alta, high on the hill overlooking the modern city of Bergamo on the plain below. Judging by the cars I’d guess this postcard dates from the 1960s, but there were no cars parked here when we visited last summer. The square was pedestrianised for the flocks of summer tourists. Continue reading “Bergamo Alta”
Iceland has been waiting for me in my dreams, all the cliches of a land being formed of fire and ice seem inescapable when your feet are upon lava flows and glaciers. The climate and weather patterns change in minutes. Mine and my friend Tom’s journey began after a long drive to the far south east of the island hear a town called Höfn. Continue reading “Land Of Ice”
Happy House: Don Cherry, Dewey Redman, Charlie Haden, Ed Blackwell
When we drove to Italy last summer I thought our journey should have an Italian soundtrack, so I loaded the car with all the Italian music I could find. It was a mixed bag, some of it dubiously Italian. There was Louis Prima’s Just A Gigolo; a Christmas album of Vivaldi, Corelli and Scarlatti; Monteverdi’s Vespers with Jordi Savall; Stefano Scodanibbio’s Reinventions; the soundtrack album from La Grande Bellezza; Mike Westbrook’s Rossini; Spaccanapoli, Lost Souls; Ernst Reiseger + Tenore e Cuncordu de Orosei, Colla Voche; Orchestra Jazz Siciliana Plays The Music Of Carla Bley.
But unfortunately none of it was road trip music. Don Cherry Quartet Live In Nervi 1979 was the best. Not really Italian music but recorded there. This quartet were also known as Old And New Dreams. They’d all previously played alongside Ornette Coleman and together they reinterpreted his music. Happy House is one of their best and it kept us on the right track.
Bellagio is smack dab in the middle of Lake Como, at the top of the Triangolo Lariano, the triangle formed by the lake’s two southern branches. Think of Lake Como as an upside-down letter Y and Bellagio is nestled in the crotch between its striding legs. If Lake Como is a cyclist then Bellagio is its saddle and there were lots of cyclists climbing the road up from Bellagio to Monte San Primo. Continue reading “Bellagio & Bicycles”
I’m still sorting through holiday photos. It could take some time. I found a whole series taken from our balcony overlooking Lake Como and Monte San Primo. It was a different mountain every day. Continue reading “Monte San Primo”
We came to Lake Como thinking we’d visit a few of the local gardens. We’d seen Monty Don’s Italian Gardens but we’d not committed it to memory. Then when we arrived we were told – if you visit only one garden be sure it’s Balbianello, it’s perfect. This is how it looks from the lake. Continue reading “Balbianello”
Next day we took the cable car up Monte Pasquella, from Argegno to Pigra. It’s called a funivia, which translates as a ropeway (not funny street) rather than a funicolare which runs along tracks. Cable cars can be a bit more bouncy than funiculars! Continue reading “Up To Pigra”