Paul Nash at Kew Gardens

Picture by Lynzi Wildheart
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"those who took neither side

when Lucifer and the Trinity

fought ~

those angels,

noble and worthy,

who were compelled to descend to earth

to this same stone"

The Grail Legend ~ The Grail as Stone. p 150. E.Jung & M-L Von Franz

"The vessel is always One, and it must be round

like the vault of heaven so that celestial influences

can contribute to the work. It is also often called a matrix or uterus,

in which the filius philosphorum is born,

and at the same time it is, in a mysterious way,

identical with its contents. For instance, it is simply the aqua permanens itself.

Mercurius is 'our true hidden vessel, and also the Philosophical Garden

in which our sun rises and ascends."

The Grail Legend ~ The Grail as Stone. p142. E. Jung & M-L Von Franz

"There is a language older by far and deeper than words. It is the language of bodies, of body on body, wind on snow, rain on tree, wave on stone. It is the language of dream, gesture, symbol, memory. We have forgotton this language. We do not even remember that it exists. "

A Language Older than Words ~ Derrick Jensen.

Silver Fox July 2010

Buzz....

Buzz... A Celebration of British Bees & Their Flowers

An exhibition of Bee Paintings and Drawings by Valerie Littlewood

1st to 26th June 2010

Lumen Gallery, 88 Tavistock Place, WC1H 9RS London

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http://www.herbsociety.org.uk/hg-ba10-buzz-british-bees-exhibition.htm

Wounded Angel ~ Emily Young 2003 ~ Kew

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And the Angel loved us so much

His wings burnt as his passion and love for us grew

As he fell.

Knowing that as deep as he sang

Into our hearts of the earth.

The nearer we were to remembering our own wings

Beating so close to our beloved.

As we look inside we come alive to the night.

As we look to the night we come alive to the light.

As we look into the earth we remember the star burning bright.

In our hearts

My beloved.

We are all Wounded Angels

Silver Fox May 2010

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http://www.etsy.com/shop/elsita

Beating the Bounds

by Chris Tancock

Angels of Anarchy

Meret Oppenheim

"Feet, why do I need them if I have wings to fly?" Frida Kahlo.

"And finally there are the myths of angels, guardian angels, fallen angels, angels of mercy, angels of anatomy...The angel is one of the key symbols of woeman surrealists, because it brings together the 'divine and human, the immanent and transcendent'. It is a symbol of hybridity and becoming which faces and reshapes history and tradition, in the artists own image" p28 Exhibition Catalogue ~ Manchester Art Gallery 26 Sept-10 Jan. http://www.angelsofanarchy.org.uk/

Reflections

Kettles Yard ~ Camerae obscurae by Issam Kourbaj

Definitions of Reflections:

1. The return of rays, beams, sound or the like, from a surface
2. The reverting of to the mind to that which has already occupied; it continued consideration; meditation; contemplation; hence, also, that operation or power of the mind of which it is conscious of its own acts or states; the capacity for judging rationally especially in view of a moral rule or standard.

3. The transference of an excitement from one nerve fibre to another by means of the nerve cells as in reflex action.

4. The phenomenon of a propagating wave (light or sound) being thrown back from a service

5. A remark expressing careful consideration

http://ardictionary.com/

Jayne Parker - Horse hair and cello Scroll.

Yesterday was a work 'team building outing' to Cambridge. The day before I decided I would go. In the group I was in the minority - most of my colleagues being non White British - Black British and one Asian British. However in Cambridge it were my colleagues who were in the minority. Armed with pictures of my Cambridge 24 years old ~ married with childhood stories I was met with another Cambridge. Could I call this home?

We had booked a punting trip with a guide listing out snip bits of history of the different colleges - who had founded them - who had been there. Traditions of students climbing the buildings and leaping off bridges, a trap for swans for the only college given permission aside from the King/Queen to be allowed to kill and feast on this bird and a Grade II listed 1960's concrete halls of residence this was the end of our tour in 45 minutes. I was surprised how shallow the boat and water was. How close I was to the water and how clear. As the boat moved along the river I failed to see the bottom and I failed to see my face in the water. I asked was this history part of me, did it define who I was?

My colleagues asked if I punted when I was a child. No. Did I hang out in the gardens. No. My life was not part of the University. I did not see the carved buildings or the people who lived in the University. Instead, as we walked down the road to Jesus Green I could have pointed out the spot where my mum's hip bone broke ~ her bones made fragile from the spread of her cancer ~ and almost crashed the car; or the street where my father ran a pub with a gay bar at the back and the fights in the male toilets between the regulars of the front and the men from the gay bar. The toughest was called 'Mother' over six foot rugby built man with chandelier earings and tatoos - no man from the front would dare to fight him. There were many stories I could have told of that time; or when I was 14 sitting in the Social Service asking for money to pay for bed and breakfast as I was homeless ~only to be told I was too old to be adopted and too young for money; or the place where I persuaded a council official to give me a grant to go to art college even though my parents lived in Suffolk and I lived in a Bed and Breakfast in Cambridge. I just answered no.

After lunch I made my excuses and left the group in a pub and made for Kettles Yard. I knew what to expect. Even if it looked different to how I remembered it I knew I could rely on the house being just the same. Frozen. Not dusty or laden with cobwebs, but loved. As I walked along the road, picking out all the shops that were no longer there I arrived full of questions. What would I see? What would be different? Would the house speak to me? I pulled the door bell and was ushered in with questions. Had I been before? Yes about 20 years ago. Did I know about the exhibition? No. For the first time some of the objects in the house had been taken out and placed in the exhibition space and artists had been commissioned to have work placed in the house.

I rushed around the house, gobbling up. Amazed and excited. My eyes widening. Slowly my rhythm changed to allow my taste buds to adjust. But there was so much to see! I felt had been starved. It was all so beautiful. Sensitive and thoughtful. At the same time thrilling, delightful, witty, touching. The new work was so tactile ~ sensual though we were told 'not to touch'! (with the exception of the Director who when I asked who the horse hair/cello piece was, promptly picked it up and stroked the hair, moving it in his hands, he placed it back in a completely different place on the table. I was agahst. I had thought that the piece had been placed specifically by the artist. I was furious by the Director's casual handling of the piece. So he could touch but not me?) I found I loved all the work ~ responsive to the environment, the house, the memory of the Mr and Mrs Ede intention/expression. The contemporary work was new but at home. A wonderful dance. A new lens to experience the 'old' as new. And the new as old?

Yes the house did speak to me. I hid in the upstairs room ~ after making my way past a 8 -9 year old girl crouched on the stairs. Staring out of the window. I am reminded of myself at that age of taking the time to ~ take in. Notice. Analyze. She said " Look a squashed ladybird. Its so squashed really flat". Her mother answered " Yes so many people would have trodden on that ladybird thats why it's so flat". Was she responding to how many people had not noticed the ladybird? Or was she responding with an explanation. The little girl replied " I've never seen a ladybird that is so squashed, look its so flat ~ look Mummy!"

I met up with my colleagues at the end of the day at the crowded bus stop. It was like rush hour on the tube. A silent panic to get on the bus. One of my colleagues remarked that they had been thrown off the previous bus as she had been eating an ice cream. Apparently the bus had a sign inside stating no eating. She had refused to get off until the bus driver said please. My thoughts went to how after I left Cambridge ~ its city centre had been 'cleaned up' ~ 0 tolerance to the homeless and begging. And so my day ended in Cambridge as we again pushed onto the train ~ back into London in 45 minutes.

Upside down/inside out ~ Kettles Yard

" In creating Kettles Yard and leaving it for future generations to enjoy, Jim Ede created a conundrum for his successors. His intention had been to open people's eyes and minds, and, at the same time, to introduce them to the art of their time. He envisaged that Kettles Yard would gradually evolve but, at the same time, this was the house that he had made for his collection and, by the time he left in 1973, each object had found it's appointed place in relation to it's neighbours" p2 Michael Harrison director. upside down/inside out Kettles Yard

"Kettles Yard is an embodiment of an aesthetic that sought to harmonize culture and nature through the sympathetic integration of works of art, pieces of furniture, and natural objects in a domestic setting. It is a proposal for a way of living in harmony with nature. Its characteristics are simplicity and modesty, unpretentious works of art, natural materials, white-washed walls, and simple design. Its creator, Jim Ede, treated the found 'valueless' (stones) with the same respect as the man-made and 'priceless' (Brancusi sculptures)." p9 - Michael Craig-Martin. upside down/inside out Kettles Yard

http://www.kettlesyard.co.uk/

The Adventures of Miss Smith

"You are never too old for adventure" declared Miss Smith

When I was in Glastonbury I stayed in a Bed & Breakfast of Diana Milstein who has done a series of paintgings ~'The Adventures of Miss Smith'. They are delightful, funny, moving and profound.

"I am an artist living & working in Somerset, England. "The Extraordinary Adventures of Miss Smith" is a series of paintings / prints (70 in all) about a little old lady whose life is transformed by her belief in the power of magic."

This is the link http://www.misssmithart.co.uk/

Black Wave

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