So after a spell in St. Henri, near Castelnaudary I will be exhibiting in Revel in the South of France, as part of a huge weekend show involving 40 artists in 20 locations: ARTS VAGABONDS en Lauragais. This will take place on the 13th/14th and 15th of September. Below is a picture of where I will be showing work with two other artists! I'm looking forward to seeing pictures of the interior!
I am going to start using this format to keep up to date with any news! In the process I accidentally deleted the old NEWS section, which I suppose doesn't matter, since no one is interested in old news!! For the few who are, I just found some photos of the Riverbank exhibition last year (es hat so sollen sein). A good place to start...
There were an incredible amount of children at the opening, given that there was a puppet show on just before it. It was lovely to watch them engage with the work, which they really did.
Una Collins, who helped curate the show and co-ordinated with me through the whole process, also opened it. She was fantastic to work with. My dear friend Betty read The Journey of the Magi, by T. S. Eliot, which I have posted below. I also gave a more or less garbled speech. Thinking back at it now, it was a great day.
The Journey of the Magi
T. S. Eliot
'A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sorefooted, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
and running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kiking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arriving at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you might say) satisfactory.
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.