Accommodation available

Our Two Contemporary Apartments are now available

* Ideal for visitors looking for a quiet stay in the heart of Worcester, UK

* Architect designed accommodation

* Private, tranquil location  * Situated in large garden

* Easily accessible * Ideal base to explore Worcestershire

Four Seasons, (74) Battenhall Avenue,

Worcester, WR5 2HW

www.worcester4seasons.co.uk

(01905) 357563

110711 Malvern exhibition

An exhibition of thirty paintings by husband and wife artist duo, Sara Hayward and Paul Powis, has just opened at Malvern Theatres.  Sara’s distinctive paintings draw inspiration from her travels to places she has visited, for example, Venice and St Ives, whilst Paul’s landscapes are inspired by landscapes around the Malvern Hills as well as further afield in Italy and Spain. Sara Hayward studied at the Ruskin School of Drawing & Fine Art at Oxford University before going on to study printmaking at the Royal College of Art, London. Paul Powis trained as an abstract painter and became interested in landscape when he moved to Worcestershire from London in 1988. The exhibition runs until August 21st.

“As you enter the theatre, the paintings inspired by Venice which are hung on the main stairs, have an immediate impact due only partly to the richness of their colours. The apparent simplicity of these works belies the care with which the elements are arranged. Because these works by Sara Hayward are displayed together they successfully display the axiom “the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.” Each work enhances the next by its proximity and together they create a beautiful aide-memoire for those lucky enough to have visited this magical city.

Sara’s other works, inspired by coastal environments benefit by a similar unity. They reminded me of the seaside holidays of my youth. The viewer is invited to look through the open window, as if on the first morning of a fortnight away. It’s sunny, the wind blows the curtain aside and all’s well with the world.

In the restaurant area are works by Paul Powis. These draw their inspiration from further afield. Adopting a subjective approach to the colours in his palette and introducing semi-abstract elements, lift these works above the mere representational. The colours “sing”. The spacial elements achieve a satisfying harmony. It is clear to see why so many corporate clients have bought Paul’s work. It’s a pleasure to see so many of Paul’s paintings together,” says Humph Hack in his review for the What’s On online review site Remote Goat.

 Also on display in the theatre are paintings by artists Nicola Clark and Tracy Jolly.

110702 missing out

Twice this week I’ve been wrong footed. I was up at the Barber Institute on Tuesday delivering paintings for submission to the Sunday Times Watercolour Competition 2011 and ambled upstairs to see the exhibition Court on Canvas.  At the top of the stairs I turned left into the exhibition and had a quick look but wasn’t overly impressed. There were black and white photographs of Billie-Jean King, a cheeky tennis poster (you know the one), a range of tennis rackets from throughout the ages, a case full of art deco jewellery featuring tennis motifs etc etc. All well and good but nothing exactly scintillating. So I continued on into the permanent collection, mildly disappointed, enjoying the Howard Hodgkin as always, revisiting the Vuillard, the Bonnard, Sickert, and onto my Frans Hals and Bellini favourites. I paused for a moment to listen to various excellent explanations of paintings to a school party by a young museum officer before turning right into the final room and catching the train home. Imagine my surprise therefore when I found THIS was the main room of superb, fantactic tennis paintings and prints featuring works by Eric Gill, Edward Ravilious, Percy Shakespeare, Paul Nash, Sir John Lavery, Stanley Spencer and E.H.Shephard. I was gobsmacked and spellbound, in equal measures; it’s an ace exhibition and well worth seeing. But nearly missed it.

Blow me if a similar thing didn’t happen yesterday! I met a dear friend at Compton Verney near Stratford to take in the current Stanley Spencer and the English Garden exhibition. We did a couple of rooms of garden paintings before finishing off in the final room to watch the film about his life and career. This film had originally come out in the late 70s when we had both seen the Stanley Spencer exhibition at the Royal Academy as part of our O-level studies. It was quite a long film and what with the wooden floors, visiting school parties, and open plan nature of the gallery adversely affecting the accoustics, barely audible at times. We both stuck it out however and by the end were ready to go for lunch rating the experience overall as very good but not fantastic. As we walked back through the galleries we suddenly spotted a small sign on a door saying ‘exhibition continues’. This only turned out to be the entrance to the main exhibition which we had very nearly missed: two massive rooms of far more major works than those in the previous rooms.

Later I popped into the RSC theatre to see the current Folio exhibition- a response to Shakespeare by staff and student printmakers at the RCA; prints by Norman Ackroyd, Alistair Grant (my old tutor), Joe Tilson, Elizabeth Frink and many others. It was a lovely exhibition and well worth seeing. On the two and a half hour train journey from Worcester to Stratford first thing I had got talking to two ladies about their day trip to Stratford. What are you going to do there, I asked casually. Go on the river, they replied. Well, you could always go into the theatre, I suggested. There followed a pregnant pause. Why would we want to do that? they asked in unison. Well, because it’s the home of Shakespeare theatre, they’ve just spent a trillion pounds rebuilding it, you can get a cup of tea, visit the gift shop, see an exhibition, it’s the RSC’s 50th birthday, lots of reasons, blah, blah, blah, but I suspect my well meaning suggestions were falling on deaf ears.

Incidentals 10922

The pots on my terrace which I have been nurturing all summer are fading fast; the hostas are withdrawing into themselves and even the banana plant is eyeing up the coming frosts and tipping me the wink to be brought indoors. However the weeds that grow up between the cracks on the terrace  are multiplying faster than you can say Roundup; those green and bushy weeds are thriving so much you’d imagine I was feeding them a great RHS elixir. Hhhmmph! the ones I give my attention to are failing and  the ones I ignore are thriving; you can imagine my sense of injustice.

When I’m writing I sit staring at a blank screen with some vague idea of my intended outcome and………..ppssshhht…………nothing comes, my brain goes blank, the result of those alcohol filled teenage years no doubt; however if  I so much as converse, jump in the car, go to the cinema, ride  a bike, or  read a book  the ideas flow faster than an iceflow in summer BUT because I’m occupied  I do not write them down and then when I sit back in front of my computer…………ppssssht………..my mind’s gone blank again; my brain would never admit to any idea, let alone a good one, and I  conclude my brain prefers multitasking and naturally I should be carrying a notepad at all times. Still, the incidental  (ie a new idea) is a byproduct of going off task, completely unexpected.

With painting I toil all day with a difficult painting or illustration, battle  it out, break out in a real sweat when it doesn’t go to plan; then at the end of the day when I’m no longer concentrating, just idly toying with the colours left on my palette – like a surly child playing with her food-  I see the most succinct little abstract piece with layers of meaning you could ever hope to create. And that’s just the palette. Still, the incidental (in this case an end of the day painting) is a byproduct of going off task, completely unexpected.

In Venice we found ourselves millimetres away from the Scuola di San Giorgio degli Schiavoni itching to see the Carpaccios; scratching our heads in dismay as the actual entrance eluded us (I later found out it was covered in scaffolding and closed anyway). Stopping and asking a chichi Italian woman exactly where it was, she sign languaged us to follow her. With her arm fully outstretched as her chiwawa lead the way, she marched us all over Venice on a wild goose chase, down every imagineable alley and over every conceivable bridge, until finally emerging  on the Grand Canal, where she pointed at the water meaningfully, we smiled gratefully (how very British), then promptly disappeared. Uhuh? Che? Never understanding what our grand tour had been about and not having the language wherewithal to enquire further, to this day I think she harboured an earnest disregard for all visitors to Venice (ie hated tourists), and was taking sweet revenge by trying to wear at least one set out. Perhaps I’m being too harsh. What she hadn’t realised however was that she had inadvertently created the most powerful experience of the place for us and an indellible memory etched on our brains for ever more. In hindsight I loved that walk, not so much Lost In Venice as misled in Venice. Still, the incidental  (ie a wonderful memory) is a  byproduct of going off task, completely unexpected.

So today in and amongst the weeds in the cracks on my terrace I happen to notice half a dozen little winter flowering pansies smiling in the sunshine. How lovely. Self set, the seeds have obviously blown off the bowl of violas on the table, which had flourished until earlier in the summer. The new little baby plants are a delightful by product, one I hadn’t planned, but one which I shall now nurture. Hhmmm, thank goodness for those unexpected incidentals but hey, go easy on the Tumbleweed, Sara.

sitting down 10816

The other day was one of those post summer pre autumn days when the sky is unexpectedly the brightest blue and you’re tempted to drop everything and go up on the hills. Well I was immediately tempted and after scrambling up near vertical shale emerged on the summit of Midsummer Hill breathlessly, looking around for a place to sit down. Which particular tummock or hillock should I choose? A little to the left or a little to the right? Into the wind or out of the wind? Sunny or shade? Decisions, decisions. So I just sat down. Simple. Just where I was. All the vistas were spectacular so any would do for my bramble scratched limbs and aching behind.

Not so easy when you’re in Venice however. You might walk all day, taking in the sights, mooching around pretending you’re a local, but try to sit down for a moment and you’re stumped; it’s as though all benches have been banned. Plenty of squares, but benches? Non, Signora. You can park your butt inside a church on a pew, or outside on the pavement if you’re that desperate, but search around for a bench on which to rest your tired aching limbs, and you’ll be walking all day.  It’s alright for the locals, you see,  they can go home. Perhaps the Venetian community think they clutter up the place. Who knows. But if you’re an artist wishing to sketch and make notes – tough……you’ll just have to stand.

So maybe a campaign should be started, “Benches in Venice” Or even “BENCHES IN VENICE NOW!” which sounds a tad more urgent. That way the next time I visit I’ll be spoilt for choice, with benches everywhere – imagine,  I’ll be bench hopping like mad. Sadly the locals will also be up in arms, blaming that Venice is sinking due to all newly acquired benches; all that extra weight, you see: bums on seats.

landscapes 10824

delicious landscapes

make sweet the interior -

cherries on the cake

perspective 10820

walk down the high street

past granite church and graveyard -

perspective changing

monument 1089

monument of time

brick on brick at gentle pace

leaves foundation stone

silhouette 1088

crucifix window

reveals twig like skeleton -

of tree silhouette

varnish 1086

bare but for varnish,

open doors are revealing -

high tide of fresh air