Apologies, last night's posting was put up without having time to proof-read it, as I heard the crunch of car wheels in the drive while I was still typing. Reading it just now I spotted two 'maybe' in the same paragraph, so I should have taken one of them out. The process whereby once you've used a word once you are more likely to use it again used to be called Lexical Facilitation when I was at university, though it may be called something else now, or have been disproved as a phenomenon. Proper journalists check their copy, pull out the Thesaurus and think of synonyms, hence the invention of the Popular Orange Vegetable, aka carrot.
It is difficult to make Birds custard while someone watches you. The thin yellow liquid seems to take forever to thicken, and there is a terrible temptation to add more custard powder, despite having measured the correct amount in the first place using a proper measuring spoon. If you succumb then by the time you get to the pudding course the custard has set to a thick gloop. Last night I resisted the urge to try and speed the process up, unlike the previous time that my parents arrived while I was still making custard. It turns out that my mother doesn't like custard anyway.
We had an idea for another fantasy art work, this time for the fourth plinth in Trafalgar Square. A while back I bought a couple of pouffes in a sale, nice squidgy round ones covered with knobbly fabric in a geometric tribal design, that is intended to look like recycled kilim rugs, but was probably made in a factory somewhere for the upholstery trade. I got them for overflow seating, for when we have more than a couple of people round, and the rest of the time they are tucked out of the way in the downstairs part of the sitting room. On Saturday we had friends to supper, so one pouffe was brought upstairs. After the guests had gone the cats reappeared, and one promptly claimed the top of the pouffe as his own and curled up there. They went on using it until we cleared it away before my parents could fall over it, and this morning the Systems Administrator put it back for them. I sometimes think our cats might be hopelessly over-indulged.
Anyway, we decided that the fourth plinth should have a gigantic cat curled up on it. The S.A. favoured ultra-realistic carving in white marble, but I thought that had already been done with Alison Lapper, pregnant. I want a kitsch cat made out of fake fur, like one of those imitation cats they sell in Nauticalia that are slightly too small, but this cat should be much, much too big. Really worryingly large. And I think it should purr at random intervals to disconcert passers by. The S.A. thinks that finding weather proof fake fur could be a problem, but I'm sure it could be done. We are the conceptual artists, we don't have to make the blessed thing ourselves. Like I said, Damian Hirst doesn't paint all his own dots.
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Thursday, 3 November 2011
Thursday, 9 June 2011
bulb orders (and a purely hypothetical artwork)
I've thought of an artwork that would fill up a hunk of the Tate nicely. Since it would be modern, and I'm British, it would do equally well for Tate Modern or Tate Britain. Radio 4 after The World at One broadcast a programme about terrible food (fortunately by then we had more or less finished lunch) which featured a long and presumably embroidered tale by a man who collected roadkill. As well as eating it, he said that the pelts 'came in useful' for taxidermy. I hadn't previously thought of a stuffed animal as something useful. A talking point, possibly, or a bizarre piece of furniture, but not a utilitarian object, although if it were a largish animal you could put coats and things on it. However, it gave me the idea for the artwork.
I propose stuffing a large number of roadkill animals. Instead of restoring them to an active and lifelike pose, they should be stuffed prone and squashed, just like they were when they were lying by the side of the road. They will cover the floor of the entire gallery, and will symbolise humanity's violation of the natural world, the destructive effect of the motor vehicle on social cohesion, or the losses we suffer by rushing through life without noticing the small everyday things. Choose your own symbol. I will have to subcontract the actual taxidermy, since it isn't something I've ever learnt to do, but that's fine. Damian Hurst doesn't paint all his own dots. Sadly, not being an established artist I fear they may not offer me the gallery space.
Anyway, I was not intending to blog about fantasy stuffed animals, but autumn bulb orders. It feels very early to be thinking about such things, but catalogues are arriving, and if I leave it too late the choice and interesting plants may be sold out. There are a lot of naturalised bulbs around the garden, and nowadays I top up things that are doing reasonably well on a rotating basis, so last year I added more small daffodils, and this year it's the turn of dwarf tulips. I like to experiment with something new, and if a species really hasn't thrived with me I try to take the hint and not keep persisting with it, or at least not in the same place.
I put in an order this year with Avon Bulbs, having admired a wonderful Mexican umbellifer on their Chelsea stand and written its name down in my notebook for the second time. It is called Mathiasella bupleuroides 'Green Dream'. The catalogue describes it as looking like a hellebore crossed with angelica, which is an excellent way of putting it. I was going to order two, hoping for some viable seed, and then decided to push the boat out and go for three to make a good group. I ordered some other rarities as well, to spread the delivery charge over more than three plants.
I really like the Avon Bulbs catalogue. I have always found the people pleasant to deal with, and the plants are almost always top-notch (they did send me an iris root with bindweed mixed up in it a couple of years ago). The eye-watering part is the prices they charge. I know that I ought to support the specialist suppliers who offer unusual species and varieties I won't find elsewhere, but it feels like the dutiful penance of shopping in good independent bookshops, knowing that I can get most of what they offer on Amazon at only two-thirds of the price. The Amazon of my bulb world is Peter Nyssen, wholesalers also selling direct, which I've used two or three times now. The plants have been correctly labelled and a good size and quality, and they are so much cheaper, not just pennies, but being able to get 25 bulbs for less than the UK growers charge for 10. I put in my Peter Nyssen order last night, for standard things like tulips to go in the pots in the front garden. I'm trying a new (to me) variety of hycinth called 'City of Bradford', a very pale blue that Sarah Raven speaks well of.
The catalogues from the UK companies have two despatch seasons, late summer for things like autumn flowering crocus that need to be planted early, and the main autumn season. Orders from the late summer section carry their own delivery charge, as they come separately, and I tend to be too mean to pay it and skip that part of the list completely. This year I've put in a late summer order with Broadleigh just for colchicums, four different sorts. When the bulbs arrive in late August there will be a panic to work out where to fit them in, but the bulbs I've planted in a panic in past seasons have turned out very well, so I thought I'd try a wider range than I'm going to find at work. Some people grumble about their large leaves, but in a large garden I'm generally happy for anything that helps cover the ground. Mine fit towards the edge of a mixed bed, jostle shoulders quite happily with silver forms of Brunnera, and tuck in around the feet of the roses and hydrangeas.
I might do just one more order, to a Scottish nursery I haven't used before, who offer a good range of fritillaries at sensible prices, or I might tot up the number of bulbs I'm already commited to potting or planting, and call it a day.
If you like the sound of any of these you will find them at Avon Bulbs, Peter Nyssen and Broadleigh Bulbs.
I propose stuffing a large number of roadkill animals. Instead of restoring them to an active and lifelike pose, they should be stuffed prone and squashed, just like they were when they were lying by the side of the road. They will cover the floor of the entire gallery, and will symbolise humanity's violation of the natural world, the destructive effect of the motor vehicle on social cohesion, or the losses we suffer by rushing through life without noticing the small everyday things. Choose your own symbol. I will have to subcontract the actual taxidermy, since it isn't something I've ever learnt to do, but that's fine. Damian Hurst doesn't paint all his own dots. Sadly, not being an established artist I fear they may not offer me the gallery space.
Anyway, I was not intending to blog about fantasy stuffed animals, but autumn bulb orders. It feels very early to be thinking about such things, but catalogues are arriving, and if I leave it too late the choice and interesting plants may be sold out. There are a lot of naturalised bulbs around the garden, and nowadays I top up things that are doing reasonably well on a rotating basis, so last year I added more small daffodils, and this year it's the turn of dwarf tulips. I like to experiment with something new, and if a species really hasn't thrived with me I try to take the hint and not keep persisting with it, or at least not in the same place.
I put in an order this year with Avon Bulbs, having admired a wonderful Mexican umbellifer on their Chelsea stand and written its name down in my notebook for the second time. It is called Mathiasella bupleuroides 'Green Dream'. The catalogue describes it as looking like a hellebore crossed with angelica, which is an excellent way of putting it. I was going to order two, hoping for some viable seed, and then decided to push the boat out and go for three to make a good group. I ordered some other rarities as well, to spread the delivery charge over more than three plants.
I really like the Avon Bulbs catalogue. I have always found the people pleasant to deal with, and the plants are almost always top-notch (they did send me an iris root with bindweed mixed up in it a couple of years ago). The eye-watering part is the prices they charge. I know that I ought to support the specialist suppliers who offer unusual species and varieties I won't find elsewhere, but it feels like the dutiful penance of shopping in good independent bookshops, knowing that I can get most of what they offer on Amazon at only two-thirds of the price. The Amazon of my bulb world is Peter Nyssen, wholesalers also selling direct, which I've used two or three times now. The plants have been correctly labelled and a good size and quality, and they are so much cheaper, not just pennies, but being able to get 25 bulbs for less than the UK growers charge for 10. I put in my Peter Nyssen order last night, for standard things like tulips to go in the pots in the front garden. I'm trying a new (to me) variety of hycinth called 'City of Bradford', a very pale blue that Sarah Raven speaks well of.
The catalogues from the UK companies have two despatch seasons, late summer for things like autumn flowering crocus that need to be planted early, and the main autumn season. Orders from the late summer section carry their own delivery charge, as they come separately, and I tend to be too mean to pay it and skip that part of the list completely. This year I've put in a late summer order with Broadleigh just for colchicums, four different sorts. When the bulbs arrive in late August there will be a panic to work out where to fit them in, but the bulbs I've planted in a panic in past seasons have turned out very well, so I thought I'd try a wider range than I'm going to find at work. Some people grumble about their large leaves, but in a large garden I'm generally happy for anything that helps cover the ground. Mine fit towards the edge of a mixed bed, jostle shoulders quite happily with silver forms of Brunnera, and tuck in around the feet of the roses and hydrangeas.
I might do just one more order, to a Scottish nursery I haven't used before, who offer a good range of fritillaries at sensible prices, or I might tot up the number of bulbs I'm already commited to potting or planting, and call it a day.
If you like the sound of any of these you will find them at Avon Bulbs, Peter Nyssen and Broadleigh Bulbs.
Thursday, 13 January 2011
art today
I took a day off from the garden (didn't miss anything as it rained all day here) and managed to catch a couple of exhibitions I wanted to see in London before they ended. As I yomped over from Liverpool Street to the West End I made sure I swung north of St. Pauls to take in the Elizabeth Frink statue of the shepherd and his flock and Temple Bar.
New to me is Asia House, which is showing The Tiger in Asian Art until 12th February. This is not a large exhibition, but fascinating, assuming you like Asian art, and tigers. Admission is free, though there are collecting boxes for tiger conservation projects. The building, an eighteenth century town house in New Cavendish Street W1, is charming, and the high-ceilinged cafe looked an oasis of calm if you should happen to want somewhere to meet a friend north of Oxford Street.
Running until 23rd January at the National Portrait Gallery is an exhibition of the work of Regency portrait painter Thomas Lawrence. This is an absolute delight and I can see why the papers gave it rave reviews. Lawrence's portraits are extraordinarily lively. A couple of his young ladies make recent sexed-up Jane Austen adaptations look quite understated, staring directly at the viewer with a very saucy gaze. Field Marshall Blucher stands on the field of battle, arm outstretched, with a big moustache (and very shiny boots), looking every inch the man who breakfasted on raw garlic and gin. It is easy to imagine Richard Payne Knight, with protruding lower lip, receding chin, and eyes cast querulously upward, spending his time building a grotto and rustic bridges in his estate in rural Herefordshire and complaining about Repton; harder to imagine that his first published book was 'The Worship of Priapus'. Lawrence was a flatterer, making some of his standing figures impossibly tall long before John Singer Sergent,and you would never guess from her portrait that poor Princess Sophia was 48. I did become slightly fixated in the last room or two on how lavishly Lawrence used the colour red. Constable made do with the odd red waistcoat in the middle distance, but Lawrence has red uniforms, red velvet suits,puts women in red dresses, or seats his subjects on red chairs or surrounded by red curtains and draperies. Still, his pictures would have brightened the place up. Well worth a last-minute dash to see it.
New to me is Asia House, which is showing The Tiger in Asian Art until 12th February. This is not a large exhibition, but fascinating, assuming you like Asian art, and tigers. Admission is free, though there are collecting boxes for tiger conservation projects. The building, an eighteenth century town house in New Cavendish Street W1, is charming, and the high-ceilinged cafe looked an oasis of calm if you should happen to want somewhere to meet a friend north of Oxford Street.
Running until 23rd January at the National Portrait Gallery is an exhibition of the work of Regency portrait painter Thomas Lawrence. This is an absolute delight and I can see why the papers gave it rave reviews. Lawrence's portraits are extraordinarily lively. A couple of his young ladies make recent sexed-up Jane Austen adaptations look quite understated, staring directly at the viewer with a very saucy gaze. Field Marshall Blucher stands on the field of battle, arm outstretched, with a big moustache (and very shiny boots), looking every inch the man who breakfasted on raw garlic and gin. It is easy to imagine Richard Payne Knight, with protruding lower lip, receding chin, and eyes cast querulously upward, spending his time building a grotto and rustic bridges in his estate in rural Herefordshire and complaining about Repton; harder to imagine that his first published book was 'The Worship of Priapus'. Lawrence was a flatterer, making some of his standing figures impossibly tall long before John Singer Sergent,and you would never guess from her portrait that poor Princess Sophia was 48. I did become slightly fixated in the last room or two on how lavishly Lawrence used the colour red. Constable made do with the odd red waistcoat in the middle distance, but Lawrence has red uniforms, red velvet suits,puts women in red dresses, or seats his subjects on red chairs or surrounded by red curtains and draperies. Still, his pictures would have brightened the place up. Well worth a last-minute dash to see it.
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