For William Turnbull

I treasure this little booklet. It’s a catalogue from Waddington Galleries in 1981, a souvenir of a beautiful and influential little exhibition of small bronzes. It got me looking at Brancusi and Giacometti and prompted countless visits to the British Museum where I discovered Cycladic figurines and Bronze Age beaker pots, Elgin marbles and Benin bronzes and much more. William Turnbull’s work seemed to contain all the best bits, all distilled from seeds gathered from around the world and filtered through his hands. Continue reading “For William Turnbull”

Frames of reference

It’s High Time

A couple of weeks ago I saw the Jan Garbarek Group play at the Royal Festival Hall as part of the London Jazz Festival. I didn’t take a camera, this image is courtesy of Gert Rickmann-Wunderlich. Garbarek was cool and sharp on soprano saxophone, warmer on tenor saxophone, always assured and inventive, but he was the only member of the group who did not take a solo. He retired too often to his seat behind the piano. I would have liked to hear him play more. Continue reading “It’s High Time”

Frames of reference

Friday On Sunday

We walked to Friday Street on Remembrance Sunday. The approach from the north was down Hollow Lane which seemed a promising start. A deep cut road through the sandstone overhung with trees leading us into ancient woodlands. On the way we passed congregations remembering the fallen. All around leaves were falling, like memento mori. Luckily the sun was shining and it seemed we were granted a last fantastic dying burst of colour before the winter. Continue reading “Friday On Sunday”

Frames of reference