Continue reading “Christmas Post”

Rowley Gallery Blog
We are all off now for a spot of carol singing. Ding dong merrily and hail chime on.
We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
This linocut print by Gail Brodholt shows skaters at Canary Wharf Ice Rink in Docklands participating in a festive communal ritual, chasing the glide, defying the cold and celebrating one of the many and various forms of slipping and sliding collectively known as winter sports. Their sinuous arabesques on the ice are contrasted with the checker board grids of the architecture. It’s Brice Marden versus Sean Scully. It’s snakes & ladders. Tis the season to play board games. Happy Christmas.
What is the best cure for frustration after an absurd flight from London to Berlin via Paris? Just cross the road and see the traffic light where a green-happy-chubby man in a hat is advising you either to cross or to wait. Continue reading “Back To The Studio”
I like to travel and paint in France. It’s a big country full of surprises and contrasts. There are beautiful places to see in the north, east and west but I feel most alive in the south. It’s the light and the colours and the scent of the herbs in the hills. I even like it in the dark and cold of winter. Continue reading “Painting & Shopping In The South Of France”
For a couple of years now we have had Fanny Shorter‘s suite of exquisite screenprints featuring some of the world’s smallest birds, all of them depicted life size. They are beautiful and popular and fast becoming an endangered species. I sold two more today, which prompted this post, before they disappear altogether. Shown here is the Crimson-Hooded Manakin, a native of the northern coastal regions of South America, where its habitat is mangroves and riverside forests. It measures just 9 cms. Continue reading “The Littlest Birds”
The Rowley Gallery has been the kind provider of much of the discarded wood needed for a series of little buildings I have made this year. Continue reading “History”
Today I visited Faringdon, Oxfordshire. A bright sunny day but with a sharp north wind. I climbed Folly Hill. A steep path rises from the edge of town between old stone walls and a tangled broken hedge of blackthorn and ivy. Continue reading “Folly Hill”