Tuesday, January 21, 2025

Light on Water, Glowing Gorse...

Just a glance at this beautiful painting - The Fowling Pool of 1897 - along with others from the Flora exhibition at Penlee House Gallery and Museum plunges you into typical Cornish landscape, with the stunted bushes, scrubby gorse and of course light reflected on water, be that of pond, puddle or sea.
Samuel John'Lamorna' Birch (1869-1955) captured that particular atmospheric quality that makes Cornwall so instantly recognisable in any representation, be that on film, photo or canvas, as here in a later version of The Fowling Pool (1907).
The distinctive effect of light on gorse is so familiar that it seems timeless, as in the 1922 painting above, Chy-an-Mor, by Harold Harvey (1874-1941). I imagine I can hear that strange crackling noise the gorse seed pods make in the summer as they split open, not to mention that peculiar coconut smell of the bright yellow flowers that nestle amongst all those spines.
The same atmosphere is apparent in another of Birch's paintings, the above Spring Morning of 1904 which represents a view near Lamorna (unsurprisingly!) although it always reminds me of the landscape around Zennor, looking down towards the sea...
Likewise with A Landscape with Foxgloves by Alfred Munnings (1878-1959) with its majestic flowers that I instinctively associate with Cornwall, even though I have to admit that they can be found everywhere! The hunched and huddled forms of the hedgerow trees are surely unique however, and again their whole essence is caught by 'Lamorna' Birch in his work The Orchard c.1895.

Sunday, January 19, 2025

Teasels and Frost...

The teasel must be one of those plants that look striking whatever the period of the year, but perhaps even more so in the winter months. With their sculptural silhouette of long spiny stems, they stand on the edges of fields or on wasteland, proud and aloof. Their stark, spiky bracts curve up around the head - the inflorescence - elegantly crowning its top.
All of this was magnified by the thin dusting of frost that still clung on later in the day, making everything seem a little more magical...
Equally elegant was the spindly, frosted cow parsley that looked like tattered lace, draped with slivers of icy spiders' webs and frozen droplets. For all the magic, the temperature was a harsh snap into reality and I couldn't wait to get home into the warmth!

Wednesday, December 25, 2024

Peace and Beauty... Assumption of the Virgin

Wondering why I just cannot 'feel' the Christmas mood anymore, be it in France or England, nor experience any desire to spend time trudging around shops, I wandered around the Victoria and Albert Museum for hours instead! Although I failed to recover the festive spirit in any sense whatsover, I did have a wonderful visit, especially on returning to the stunning Cast Courts. This time, the calm and beauty of one of the vast copies on display caught my attention; a section of a Baldacchino (tabernacle) representing the Virgin and angels, in a sculpted depiction of the Assumption. Almost 700 years old, the original work completed in 1359, is set in the Orsanmichele Church in Florence, commissioned just after the passing of the Black Death. The tabernacle structure served to frame a painting of the Madonna (by Bernardo Daddi), but I think it wholeheartedly stole the show! The details of the cast of the carved marble, with intricate features further highlighted by what was originally inlaid gold, glass, and lapis lazuli, creates a uniquely delicate effect that perhaps reflect the influence of the artist's background as son of a goldsmith. The sculptor responsible for its creation was Andrea di Cione - known as l'Orcagna - (c. 1308–c. 1368), and although he was known for his work as painter, poet and, of course, sculptor, his name is perhaps largly overlooked today...
In fact, the Assumption is just one of two scenes represented on the large sculpted relief of the tabernacle for in the lower section of the work is the Dormition of Mary, with her demise. In the upper section, as shown here, we see the Virgin as she levitates within the oval form that is symbolic of sacred figures - the mandorla (Italian for 'almond') - which is grasped by the angels that bear her to heaven. I love the angels' expressions and postures as they busily accompany Mary in her spiritual ascent, their forms floating on the clouds that shroud their angelic feet! Well, after over 4 hours in the museum, my own feet were feeling decidedly unangelic but I felt so elated to see such incredible works that lift you no matter how you initially feel....

Sunday, December 22, 2024

Stark Winter in Hyde Park...

My first stop on arrival in England is invariably Hyde Park, and this time was no different. The bare, skeletal trees with their dark, spindly branches suited my mood and the whole nature of the trip...
The skies were steely grey, reflected in the cold water of the silent fountain...
Everything seemed quiet and pensive, forcing reflection on thoughts that offered little warmth or comfort. However, after a while, Life seemed to take the upper hand and the little wonders of nature, however small and discreet, refused to be overlooked.
Tiny, modest buds and delicate blossom were there to be seen, for eyes ready to look onward, and the wild bird song was to be heard, for ears willing to listen...
Already bursting forward were early clusters of snowdrops, in defiance of bleakness, whilst the monument to the departed seemed less a memorial to royal demise than a celebration of this wonderful legacy left to us today, almost 300 years on; Hyde Park.

Lovely Lichen... In Mount's Bay.

Even on the greyest of Winter mornings, there is always something to catch the eye when meandering along the coastline path that borders Mount's Bay, leading away from Penzance towards Marazion.
Typically, the waves were crashing along the vast stretches of pebble shore with the clattering swash and dragging backwash on the shingle. The wind blustered, sending the seagulls on perilous flight, but closer afoot were the granite bolders, with their striking smatterings of lichen!
Some of these were incredibly vivid in colour, with their bright golden aureoles 'flowing' and bursting across the stony surfaces, as ink drop diffusions, spreading out repeatedly, in a multitude of different shapes and shades.
Others, meanwhile, were more subtle with delicate lacy clusters embroidered on rust-coloured stone or scaling over the weather-worn wooden fencing with feathery outshoots...
With this strange organic shroud, every surface becomes strangely ageless, or rather seems to acquire a patina of age and wisdom, witnesses of the passage of time and Life itself.

Friday, November 29, 2024

A Long-Winded Project....

Sometimes you consider something finished, but finally you come to the conclusion that there is still a considerable amount to do before you get there! Such is the case with this crochet piece I thought to be completed about two years ago, but when passing in front of it every day, that feeling of dissatisfaction has gnawed away at me...
So when I saw all those vibrant balls of wool on sale, I couldn't resist.... and I wasn't the only one!

Forgotten Memorials...

One of the main traffic roundabouts in Reims isolates a grassy central island on which is set a monument that is rather hard to see in any great detail, due to the steady flow of vehicles that winds around it, largely indifferent to the sculpted forms it bears or the inscriptions in the rush to get some destination or other. It is in fact virtually impossible to know what the impressive column monument commemorates and for this reason, it tends to be overlooked.
It did however attract attention at the turn of the millenium when a hurricane bore down on the city, destroying the trees that encircled it, as well as wreaking havoc on the architecture of the city as a whole. Today it is difficult to believe that the large trees we see now are 'only' a quarter of a century old, planted in 2000 to replace those uprooted in the days after Christmas in 1999. The monument itself escaped the event seemingly intact, miraculously, albeit strangely exposed, without the trees' branches and leaves to shroud it.
The monument in question - dedicated to the allied nurses of the world - was set in place 100 years ago, almost to the day, on the 11th November 1924. Indeed, whilst each village, town and city in France possesses a commemorative edifice to honour its sacrificed soldiers and civilians, there are but three monuments erected to the memory of the nurses who died caring for others. It was Juliette Lambert who decided to lead a committee to gather funds to assure the building of a monument « à la gloire des infirmières françaises et alliées victimes de leur dévouement » for the nurses who fell in the World War I. Reims was selected as the obvious site for this purpose as the 'ville martyre' had suffered horrendously during the hostilites, from the very outset in September 1914 until the end of the war, with its cathedral being the very emblem of French loss and sacrifice.
On the day of the monument's inauguration several years after the war, Juliette Lambert was present, but her speech was read out for her as she was already 88 years old by this stage. The sculpted relief on the monument shows two nurses giving care with great tenderness to an injured soldier from the Front, whilst on the other side of the cylindrical column stands an angel strewing roses, in a gesture representing renewal. The top of the column is decorated with a sculpted laurel leaf frise with a funerary urn decorated with pine cones - symbols of eternity - while the octagonal base bears the sculpted forms of scallop shells to symbolise hands opened out to other people, emblematic of the gesture of doctors and nurses towards their patients.
The architect Charles Girault, famous for his construction of Le Grand and Le Petit Palais in Paris and the sculptor Denys Puech were responsible for this work. The inscriptions along the column pay tribute to the devotion of the nurses; "On land and sea they shared the dangers of the soldier. They braved in hospitals, bombed and torpedoed the fire of the enemy contagion, exhaustion.By consoling pain, they helped victory. Honour to them. They will live forever in the memory of their homelands proud and grateful."
When I finally managed to dodge the traffic to make my way onto the island and look at the monument in detail, I noticed the commemorative plaque just below the symbolic Red Cross relief. This had been added following the Second World War (1939-1945), in reference to tragic losses due to bombing on the 30th May 1944. Although I was aware that Reims had suffered from Nazi occupation, deportations to the death camps and shellfire, I had not heard of any major bombing campaigns. Intrigued, I tried to find out the circumstances and fatal consequences of this incident and what I did discover surprised and shocked me in equal measure.
In order to rid the city of its Nazi occupants and above all cut enemy access and supplies, the American Airforce (USAF) sent over Flying Fortresses to strategically bomb specific sites, namely the Maistre barracks (previously Caserne Neufchâtel), the railroad marshalling yards, locomotive workshops and the central train station itself. Three bombing waves were carried out in May 1944. However, it was the third of these, on 30th May, that resulted in significant civilian losses.
As the first bombs went off, the nurses and young students (14-19 years old) of the Centre de formation Professionnelle in Rue Belin went to offer their help as the area around the station and railway had been hit in the air raid. Most of the streets, literally minutes from my home, were affected but it was Place Luton where the greatest tragedy took place. In order to protect themselves, the group took shelter in a house cellar but as bomb ripped through the building, exploding in the cellar vault, the blast and the thick, asphyxiating dust that followed killed 20 out of the 21 youngsters. Nurses from a nearby dispensary also died, as did ordinary civilians, thus taking the number of fatalities to 55, with far more injured aside. On visiting Rue Belin and Place Luton, I expected to see some mention of this tragedy but there is - apparently - absolutely no trace although a plaque is to be found in a local secondary school Lycée Gustave Eiffel. I actually find that quite sad that a quiet city square should have been the site of such brutal devastation and yet today there is nothing to mark this or indeed to check the actual facts since all is rather vague. As there are plans to revitalise Place Luton and make it greener and leafier, I sincerely hope the local council will take steps to honour these long-departed individuals of whom the city is supposed to be forever 'proud and grateful'. I did try to locate the fateful site on Place Luton, and since the very plain house below was the only relatively 'recent' building in the square - the rest dating to the 19th century or the reconstruction of Reims after WWI - I can only assume this was it...
It was, of course, in Reims that the surrender of the Third Reich was agreed upon and signed, on the 7th May 1945, as General Eisenhower, the supreme commander of the Allied Expeditionary Force in Europe, had previously transfered its headquarters from Versailles to Reims. This may be long-distant history today, but how can we know where we are, or what we have now if the traces of the past are wiped away or overlooked?