Norman Parkinson

My favourite too, I love the colours.

– and says he doesn’t have a favourite because it changes according to how he feels (though he admits to loving the shot of the model in the lily pond).

Sublime images by Norman Parkinson

If all goes according to plan I may see these after work. They are currently on show at Paul Smith. He says...

Yet while embracing digital technology himself, Smith can’t help feeling that there was a romanticism to film that has been lost. “It was about confidence and knowing your job properly, whereas now, frankly, you can go straight to a computer screen – click-click – there’s the image and you can check the lighting and everything. Parkinson just took two rolls of 35mm and crossed his fingers.” more from the Times article here

I feel the same. There is just so much more depth of colour when you see prints taken on film. Sadly the immediacy of digital is just so addictive.

Humanoid

Humanoid

On Saturday as we were walking to the gallery in Dulwich, we walked past a lovely clothes shop called Question Air
It is one of those shops where you want to buy everything. I particularly loved this range of clothes perfect for the very chilly November winds that have hit town this week.

Every picture tells a story

This is a photo, of a B&W photo of a painting of my Great Grandfather.

It was painted whilst he was serving in the Home Guard during the second world war. After he died my Gran remembered that he had his portrait painted by an artist, doing a series on men serving in the home guard, you can just see his uniform in the background. This was a long time before the Internet and so she spent many years writing letters, doggedly trying to trace the painting. It took many many letters and many more years until finally she found it. It was stored in the vaults of a museum in Manchester. The museum kindly got it out for her, it is quite a large painting approx 3ft x 4ft. My uncle, a photographer took a photograph of the painting and I received a B&W copy. I have grown to love the painting in B&W, it always comes as a bit of a shock to see the colour version.

My Great Grandfather died when I was about 12, I did not go to his funeral as I was the designated babysitter for all my cousins. My memories of him are very sparse, he spent a lot of time living at my Grans house, of his 3 children I think he preferred it there the most. He did not change much from the painting, a trim wiry man of few words. When we came to go home though, we would be summonsed to say goodbye, plant a brief kiss on his dry very prickly cheek and he would give me a sixpence.

That my Great Grandfather was alive at all, is it seems to me a miracle. He fought in the battle for the Somme and came home, my Gran was born soon after. My mother tells me that he never ever spoke about the war, would not, could not. All that she remembers is very very occasionally he would lapse into crude humour. Such repressed memories must have made for a very hard life.

Today Kitty is helping to organise a party to celebrate Armistice Day at a local community center, she and a small group of other students have spent the last 5 Thursdays working with and talking with the old people about what life was like during the war and helping to plan a celebratory party, she has loved it. She has even bought a black and red outfit to wear. I am so pleased that she is helping to preserve the memory's of others so we can never forget.

The view from here

My favourite photograph from the night, not easy on a digital camera with a small 7 year old insisting she needs the toilet NOW...having spent 20 mins trying to light sparklers in gusty winds.

And so we joined 80,000 other people on a wet and windy night to celebrate once more the historical 'near miss' that is Bonfire Night.

Had this happened today, we would have had at least two major enquiry's, major questions would have been raised about security and all Catholics would now be interred without trial on some distanced acquiesced island far far away.

A little cashmere tantrum

Finally, the cashmere arrived in Asda, last year I bought 3 wonderful pieces that saw me through the winter, I then read that they were producing another range this year so I have been counting the days. It arrived this week and what a catalogue of disappointment it was.
Last year they stuck to neutral colours, black, grey, green and a brown marle. This year, ugh,, a moss green marle and a really gruesome pink. To compound the misery the colours were repeated in stripes on another style.
One small beacon of sanity hung below the monstrosities, a beautiful pale grey kimono style cardie. So, yes, I know another bloody grey cardie, but it was soooo lovely and soft. I get so frustrated, the style and cut and quality of cashmere is excellent, why ruin it by using such hideous colours?
I realised many years ago that although I have a rough idea of what I like from a clothing store, I would struggle to be 'a buyer' because my taste is so narrow. But there is one thing I do know very well, and that is the colours that work. The average size of Asda customers must be around 14 - 16. Pale stripes are surely not the most flattering. Why not do a range of darker colours? Plums Navy's a Deep Bottle Green, so few shops get the colours right.
Two that do it for me are COS and Jigsaw, they always have deep rich colours and even their paler colours have a depth that so many other stores fail to achieve. Just imagine what a great job it would be to choose the colours for a season, I would be in heaven.

A very uplifting article in the Guardian today praising the great style that women of over 40 posses, we all knew that didn't we? But it is nice to see it in writing. I particularly liked the following...

"I did have a sexy little fashion moment in London yesterday, though. Popping out to get a sandwich in Soho, my eyes locked with 60s heartthrob Terence Stamp across Broadwick Street. He ran his steely blue eyes down my well-wrapped-up body to the fabulous flat patent boots I was wearing, then looked me full in the face and smiled. It was bliss. When I did the same thing to him, though, I discovered he was wearing purple Crocs. Perhaps it is our male contemporaries who need to learn to grow old gracefully".

I am a bit 'posti lite' for a couple of weeks whilst I set up a project that has niggled away at me for some time. My photos need some serious filing and it has done me a lot of good to start to categorise and theme them. It is good to reflect sometimes so we can move on. Also my mother is visiting, the one bloody weekend I get without Emin and I end up entertaining..So a trip to Dulwich Picture Gallery should keep her happy.

Christopher Wood

Life is full of happy accidents, I was researching Christopher Wood as part of a project on painters from St Ives, when I found a more contemporary Christopher Wood alive and producing wonderful paintings in Scotland. I wish I was closer to Glasgow so I could see his work, sadly Paris is closer!

Postcards from Kettles Yard

I have been many times and taken countless rolls of film, but I never feel that I have taken 'the one'. You know, the photograph that captures the essence of a place. For many places it come easily, but here, I do not know whether it is the weight of history or the sense of place. It could be more physical than that, although a place of light, that light comes with real metering issues, it creates reflections and shadows everywhere more often where you do not want them. When I looked at the images all I saw was me!

I know it is churlish but Lelya trying to grab the camera every five minutes did not help. But hey it is a hobby not a living, so why do I mind? I will return...