Venus in Blue Jeans

Another evening sky, from my balcony. At a quarter to eleven at night, it was still quite light and the sky really was the most extraordinary shade of blue. You won't be able to see it on a small screen but, just above the third 'E' in my jennyfreckles watermark, Venus is shining brightly, a tiny pinprick steadily sinking below the horizon. 

It reminded me of a long-forgotten pop song, 'Venus in Blue Jeans', which reached no.4 in the British charts in 1962, a recording by Mark Wynter. Given that I was only ten, the fact that I can still remember the lyrics amazes me!  

'She's Venus in blue jeans,
Mona Lisa with a ponytail,
She's a walkin' talkin' work of art
She's the girl who stole my heart.'

Be astonished

'Instructions for living a life.
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.'

Mary Oliver

Living here in my west-facing flat, I do pay attention to the evening skies and sunsets, which are always unique, sometimes unremarkable and occasionally stunning. I am often astonished, often exhilarated. I do like to tell about them - I think we all enjoy a good sky. So here's another, taken at 9.30pm one warm summer evening. 

Look up at the heavens and see; gaze at the clouds so high above you. 

Job 35:5

The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. 

Psalm 19:1-2

The night sky

No apologies for another night sky picture. This one, last Friday evening, was so breathtaking I have to share it here. Even more incredible when you realise this was 11pm at night. The moon was so bright. It's a bit blurry in my pic but it was a phone shot and it was too late to be bothered to go find my big camera and tripod. 

Friday was my birthday and I'd had a lovely day: time with friends and quiet time alone. I had some wonderful news from my elder granddaughter, who has been awarded the 'Character Prize' out of her entire school year group (about 250 pupils). They said she: 'flies under the radar but is an A-star student, demonstrating all the qualities, character and values [that the school seeks to foster].' I think she's amazing - she has a quiet strength - and it's lovely that her teachers and peers think so too. So that was a delightful birthday gift, as was the beautiful sky to round the day off. 

Today would have been my mum's 99th birthday, so this is for her. She'd have been very proud of her great granddaughter too, and I'm so glad she lived long enough to meet her a few times. 

Solstice

Here we are at the mid-point of the year, the summer solstice. The seasons fly by these days! I love these light nights, and always mourn when we start the downward path to darkness again. 

A couple of nights ago, at 10.30 pm, in the throes of England's first World Cup match (!), I got up to draw the curtains and I noticed the thinnest crescent moon - a waxing crescent - and the brightly shining Venus in very close conjunction. I found this rather thrilling! The match was rather thrilling too, it has to be said: England 4, Croatia 2. A good start to our campaign. 

More of my art works

More of the artworks I have in my home...

The first image is a photograph by a Yorkshire-based photographer, Lizzie Shepherd. Called 'Broken birch, Hodge Close', she says: 'This damaged birch tree, with its wonderful mix of colours and form immediately caught my eye when exploring near Hodge Close Quarry in the Lake District. It was an overcast day, with soft light and low cloud offering the perfect conditions for woodland photography. Hodge Close, Cumbria, England.' 

Lizzie is brilliant at making sense of complicated woodland scenes, as well as mastering landscapes in general. I've long admired her work. I've had the good fortune to attend a couple of her workshops and watch some of her presentations to my camera club. I've been inspired by her and have learnt a lot from her, as well as enjoying her company. I bought this print when she offered it to raise money (as far as I recall) for a fellow photographer who'd had a serious accident. So for me that was a double bonus. 

I display it alongside a small print that I bought from the Skipton 'Art in the Pen' exhibition years ago. It's a painting rather than a photograph but it seems to me to echo some of the same qualities and tones as Lizzie's image. I had it framed and it's so well sealed that I cannot now see any label with the artist's name, which is a bit silly as I can't recall who I bought it from! I do like it though. Both of these pieces have given me pleasure for several years now. 

Fusedale

Another of my long-cherished artworks on display in my home: a beautiful photo, sadly not authored by me. It was taken by a renowned Lake District photographer, John Gravett. I met John when I attended one of his workshops at Lakeland Photographic Holidays way back in 2011, not all that long into my own journey into photography. I didn't even have a very good camera in those days; in fact it was John who encouraged me to take my photography more seriously and invest in a decent DSLR camera. I learned a huge amount from him in the space of a week, about composition and about the technical side of camera skills and post-processing. I also learned that I haven't the patience to be a dedicated landscape photographer! John is now retired, though still taking beautiful photos. (Photographers never stop developing!) 

This particular monochrome print is the remnants of a barn in Fusedale, just south of Ullswater in the NE Lake District. I particularly enjoy the drama of the sky and the way the shape of the ruined building mirrors the contours of the surrounding hills. 

The sky show

I've mentioned before that I find being able to watch the sunsets from my west-facing balcony is a real delight. It's not always spectacular, of course, but every night is different and I find that mesmerising and wonderful. Here are a few recent ones.

 

Yellow peril

Another in the Colour series, yellow this time. Although it's a cheery colour, I find I don't have much of it. For clothes, it's not a shade that particularly suits my colouring, and around the house it seems reserved for fairly utilitarian items - rubber gloves, dusters and the like. We did once paint our back door yellow, years ago, prompting my mother to warn that we'd be plagued with flies. I never really managed scientifically to prove or disprove that one! Anyway, it's the colour of spring and we've all been longing for spring, so this will help us on the way. 

Roost

I absolutely love the ever-changing view from my balcony. During the day I have a prime spot for observing all the comings and goings to the apartments, since it overlooks our small car park. As the sun sets, I have a grandstand view of the western sky, except for a few houses and the church in the foreground. Inside, by the balcony doors, I've installed a comfortable chair (which swivels! 😊). I can sit knitting and still feel connected to life. Not that it matters at the moment as obviously I'm still very active, but I guess one day I might be glad of it. 

When I was choosing where to move to, I came to realise how much I like being near trees. The view from the front of my previous home was largely of mature trees and I really enjoyed watching their progression through the seasons (if not the massive job of clearing leaves from the garden and paths). Here, the apartment block is in pleasant grounds with lots of mature trees, mostly under protection orders - one being a magnificent copper beech and some walnuts too, which are not all that common. (And we have gardeners who deal with the leaves. Yay!) The tree I can see from my balcony (above) is a few blocks away, in the garden of a neighbouring apartment complex. I think that's a copper beech too. I noticed it seems to be a favoured roost for the birds as the sun goes down. 

Rhapsody in blue

And still it rains... and still I'm amusing myself finding 'colour' pictures inside. It's honestly not hard for me to find blue things! It has always been my favourite colour for clothes and I love blue glass. When I moved here, I felt drawn also to decorate with a lot of blue. It's peaceful and, perhaps surprisingly, doesn't feel like a 'cold' colour to me.  

Years ago as a young woman, I visited some friends and was charmed by their mismatched blue and white china plates and dishes, vowing I'd have the same one day. Then life happened...  I was gifted china when I got married and I was never bold enough to start my own collection. One day, many years later, the thought came to me that if I really wanted a blue and white china collection, maybe I should start acquiring some! So I did, picking up random pieces that attracted me in vintage shops and other stores. When I moved house recently and downsized, I kept the blue and white and donated most of my other patterns and colours. You've no idea how happy it makes me to open my cupboard and use all the pretty dishes and plates. I also discovered The Japanese Shop that sometimes has a pop-up store at RHS Harlow Carr. They stock some delightful, delicate, blue and white porcelain, so I've added a few lovely little bowls. 

Original orange

So. Much. Rain! I have been making myself go out for very soggy walks, but it doesn't lead to any inspiration for photography. No photos to play with equals no fun for me, so I resorted to looking for subject matter inside. I found myself drawn to the colour orange. (I can't imagine why! 😂 😂 Heck, someone's taking up too much space in my head rent-free these days!) Despite its current connotations, it's quite a cheery colour, good for brightening up these dark winter days. I look forward very much to a time when it's no longer associated with all that is at the same time both evil and comedic. 

A hint of sunshine

More of the artwork I have in my home...

I absolutely adore this little print. I met Rob Friel, the photographer, many years ago: a fellow participant on the first photography workshop I ever attended. We subsequently became Facebook friends and it was on his page that I saw this picture, which I believe he took on holiday in the USA. For some reason I fell in love with it and asked Rob if I could buy a print. He very kindly sent me a copy as a gift and I've had it on my wall ever since, now happily hanging in my study. I've never been quite sure exactly what about it appeals to me so much. It's quite a simple image; its square format, the 'magic' three trees and a gentle colour palette give it - to me - a calming, almost Zen-like quality. Those little yellow flowers shyly peeping out from behind the birch trunks bring a hint of sunshine. Gorgeous. I love it every time I look at it. 

 

We've got our beady eyes on you

Another in my occasional series documenting the artworks I have in my home...

This photograph of two little owl fledglings was taken by professional wildlife photographer Oliver Wright. I had the good fortune to attend a photography workshop that Oliver co-led a few years ago in the Yorkshire Dales. Fast forward a year or two and he came to give a talk at a nearby camera club, so I decided I'd go along. He was generously offering two of his prints in a raffle to raise funds for the club. I bought some tickets, never imagining I'd actually win anything but, to my surprise, one of my ticket numbers was first out of the bag! I had the choice of which prize to go for and chose this one. 

The cute, comic, little owls are among my favourite birds and these two have a kind of 'Mona Lisa' quality, in that their eyes follow you around the room! Add to that the gravestone they are perched on - poor little Roland, whoever, he was - and the whole image has a charm and poignancy that I love. 

On Oliver's website he says this about it: 

Happy

You'll perhaps recall that a couple of weeks ago I went to an exhibition of Liz West's work - H.A.P.P.Y - in Harrogate. (See HERE). I really liked the bold colour in her art. When I came home I looked at her website, vaguely thinking I might get a print to place in my hallway, on a wall that my daughter reckoned needed a picture. I quickly had second thoughts when I noted her prints sell for upwards of £300 (not unreasonable for original art but beyond my budget). However, she also sells small art cards, at a much more affordable price. I bought a pack of them and arranged them in a cheap frame. I'm very pleased with the effect. The little explosion of bright colour truly makes me happy! 

(Incidentally those aren't creases in the middle, just unavoidable reflections, for which I apologise.)

The print I have on the opposite wall is one I've had for years. It's a poster for an exhibition I went to in Leeds, by Andy Goldsworthy, featuring a boulder covered in poppy petals. Andy is an artist and sculptor who works with natural materials - stone, brightly coloured flowers, icicles, leaves, mud, pinecones, snow, stone, twigs, and thorns -  in site specific locations outdoors. His artworks are often ephemeral, left to age and decay naturally (though always documented in photos too). He has installed more permanent works like cairns and sheepfolds in various locations, including the Yorkshire Sculpture Park. He currently has a major retrospective exhibition in Scotland’s National Gallery, so I’m hoping to go to Edinburgh to see that in the autumn. 

God rays

We didn't get a proper sunset last night as there was too much cloud, but I loved the 'god rays' that appeared for about a quarter of an hour around 8.30 pm. Properly called crespuscular rays, they are formed when sunlight is scattered by particles in the atmosphere.

Google tells me they are most noticeable when the sun is low on the horizon, such as during sunrise or sunset, because the light travels through a greater amount of atmosphere, increasing the scattering effect. While crepuscular rays appear to converge at a point, they are actually parallel, like railway lines, according to the laws of perspective. The convergence is an optical illusion caused by the way our eyes perceive parallel lines receding into the distance. So, now we know!

I sat on my balcony with a mug of rooibos tea and just enjoyed the light show. It was so peaceful; a few birds flying overhead, still trying to decide on their roost for the night; the gentle murmur of someone's TV in another flat, not intrusive but strangely comforting. 

Ullswater

Here's another in my series documenting the artworks I have on display in my home.  This is a painting on silk, of Ullswater in the Lake District, by Chris Pollard. I've had it many years. I bought it, on a whim, from the artist's pop-up stall in the White Rose shopping centre in Leeds. At the time I was replacing my kitchen (in my previous house) and had chosen light wood effect units and green and blue tiles, so the colours seemed to fit well. I liked that it is a real place - and not so far from here really - but also that it was rather an abstract and representational image. 

I've always loved the colours and, despite the piece being about 25 years old, they still sing vibrantly. When I moved to my flat last year and decided to paint myself a blue wall in the sitting room, it became obvious that this was the place for this picture. I love it! 

A sunset, at last

We finally had a 'proper' sunset last night, after weeks of low cloud blocking the horizon. Good sunsets do need a bit of cloud and this one had some artistic and impressionistic wisps that almost looked like I'd put a long exposure on the photo. (I didn't.)  They never look quite as pretty in pictures as they do in real life. It's hard to get the colours both soft and saturated. I love to see them though. 

A family heirloom

Here's another of the pictures that I have on display in my apartment. It's relatively small, only 25 x 20cm. It's one of the few pieces I inherited from my paternal grandparents. I always liked it, even as a child, so I am very happy to have it. My mother didn't really know much about it but I presume it's Japanese, with Mount Fuji in the background. We guess it was brought back from the Far East after WWII. My dad's younger brother was stationed there for a while, after the war (I suppose when he was doing National Service) so it seems likely he brought it back as a gift. The top picture seems to be painted on very thin wood, and the bottom one on paper. The subtle pink and peach tones are lovely. I don't think it is more than a 'tourist souvenir' of the time but I'm very fond of it and it's been in my possession at least since the early 1980s, after my grandparents died. 

Inspiration

One of the joys of having moved to my apartment is that there is much more wall space suitable for hanging pictures. I've been able to put this print in my hallway, facing the front door. It gives me a great deal of pleasure every time I look at it, and I think the dark blue wall paint really sets it off. It's one of my oldest pieces of art, a print of a photograph by Georges Meis, a Greek photographer whose work is sold by the ton in tourist spots in Greece: prints, calendars, postcards. I must have had it for over forty years, bought as a memento of a Greek island holiday. (I'm a great fan of that 'Greek blue' you see everywhere on the islands.) 

It's associated with very happy memories for me and yet... more than that... It's hard to describe but in many ways it represents the first time I became interested in photography as an art form, rather than simply a record or snapshot. There is something about the liquid quality of the print, almost as if it was shot underwater, and the way that the shadows blend with the cracks on the wall so that you can't really tell which is which. The whole has a kind of balance, lyricism and movement that appeals to me. I think it was where my own photographic journey really started, and so it means a lot to me.