for a potaty

Unfortunately, I can't take credit for this beautiful photo. It popped up in my Facebook news feed, by a young lady called Katy Potaty.

things that are meant to fly

Lots of people ask me what it is about dead birds/flies that I am intrigued by. I think I mentioned a few posts ago that I'm interested in the paradigm of things that represent freedom and autonomy suddenly becoming static, fixed and restricted. I don't think there are many other things that symbolise death so much as something that is meant to fly.

I've been doing a lot of work recently as part of a programme I'm on, about 21st Century Leadership. On the programme we are examining what it is to be a leader in the arts in the 21st Century. I'm struggling with feeling really self indulgent, to the point where I keep asking my peers "why me?" and "what qualities do I have as a leader?".

Surely it's our role as artists to lead; if leading is to inspire?


I'm from a small industrial town where it is evident that arts and culture are not as celebrated or indeed as valued as they are in other areas. It's frustrating. I know I'll never make a living out of the thing I love doing, but it's unfair to think that the arts can't be at the top of people's agendas and be positively screamed about. 

Anyway, I was just wondering if my fascination with these dead creatures, is because I find an affinity with them; these things that are meant to fly?

reminders

Found this little fella with mud trodden and squashed into his body in the council gardens after a visit to my old work. Spotted him on my way out and it made me think twice about the down turn my old work place has taken. A sad tale of being squashed by local government, but necessarily so because of the cuts. Just killing off the life of services that were once highly esteemed. Poor fella didn't really seem to have much of a dignified outing being squished by the councils gardening machinery.

Anyway. Made me think. That is all.

jumble cups

Carboot sales used to be the worst place to be spotted as a teenager. On moving away from a town saturated with them at weekends, I missed them desperately. Picking up a lifelong handbag for 50p is a win all round.

I've been collected teacups and saucers for a few years now, for many embarrassing reasons, including wanting to have them all used at a wedding of mine that will probably never happen. Car boot sales are the best places to pick up a cup for 20p or less, hence my regular visits more recently. Here are a collection of oddments I've stumbled across at Hemswell's famous manky weekend markets (none are the cups).

the only thing i bought other than teacups. it was £3

Autumny and tingly letters

A few weeks ago I took a weekend trip to Wakefield. It's not really a place worth returning to if it can be helped. But they do have the lovely new Hepworth Gallery and just down the road is the beautiful Yorkshire Sculpture Park.
It was hard not to fall in love with both of these places especially in the Autumn, given their setting. Here are some pictures of what we did see.

Lovely entrance to the Hepworth Gallery

Obvs not sculpture, but some ace structural stuff going on all around the Hepworth. Lots of lines drawn across the sky like sketches, it was pretty striking.

My friends at the point when they realised Hepworth was an artist and not a place.

I've always loved Barbara Hepworth, so it was special to be able to be in a space dedicated to her talent. Some really stunning pieces throughout the whole gallery and some crucial works that set her piece in context... helps for those who think Hepworth is a place ;)

After the Hepworth, we switched the satnav back on to take us to the next dose of cultcha - Yorkshire Sculpture Park. The weather was really autumny and perfect for a stroll through a little park.

This was the first thing to greet us at the park, there were kids climbing all over it so forgive the odd angle and framing.  Details of the hare are below.

After being at the Hepworth, it was a lovely little gift that we could TOUCH the work. This was made of marble and really cold and smooth.

Dead creature.

YSP is a beautiful setting to experience sculpture. A lot of the time you see nature developing it's own visual art and complimenting the man-made structures perfectly. This window was covered in mould and stain and was all scratched and etched by weather. It was framing another giant rabbit outside, but I was more interested in another dead bug. 

"It's just a hunk of rusty metal". Yep, by Martin Creed, Dad. "Who's he?" Yep.

I loved it

There were about five of these "bog n stuff" trees.

hay bales

My silly bestest friend "looking through stuff"

Metal sounds ace when you whack it. It's all hollow and loud.

This piece was created in response to the movements made while people walk in crowds. My Dad didn't like it one bit, but couldn't stop photographing it. I was explaining how it's fascinating how an artist could turn movement into something solid and still. It was ace to see Dad try to figure out if it was good.

It was so warm but looked so doomy and gloomy. Pretty dramatic scenes all day.

Gormley popping up in the trees.

I said this looked like a gas chamber type building.

The walking sculpture.

The walking sculpture in the gloomy weather.

It looks very Hepworth, but it wasn't. It was Moore. I loved how protective and womb-like it was, all open and closed at the same time. I wanted to climb in and be all warm and sheltered in there.

I love the situation of it. Looking out over the hill's landscape and keeping a guard over the scene.

What that lovely womb was looking at. Lucky womb sculpture.

My Dad being brilliant.

This is a big room built into the landscape and it almost hidden in the hill. You go down into a big animal type holding area and enter into a door that looks like an entrance to a crypt. That leads you into this big room that's painted white all over. The interior is made of concrete and edge of the room  has seating built in. Before you enter there is a sign that reminds you this is a place for contemplation and peace. It certainly was that. The high ceiling has a big square cut out so we were completely exposed to the sky. It was so beautiful and peaceful... until a truckload of kids arrived and shouted a lot.

I first encounter of Jaume Plensa, and being a bit of a wordy nerdy, I fell in love with this.

 

Plensa's work was in the exhibition halls too, these were in the visitors centre, leading up to the gallery.

The long corridor running alongside each room of the gallery. Plensa had taken lines from poetry, wrote them with metal letters, and hung them down this long corridor. They tingled as people walked past. It was pretty magical.

It seemed to transcend art, because it was everything; sound, shadow, art, poetry, language, texture. It really was stunning.

In the first room, these guys were humongous, hanging over the room, covering their eyes, ears and mouths, they each had words covering their faces. It was so peaceful, but the words were pretty sinister and unnerving.

In the second room, these beautifully carved marble pieces looked like holograms the way they were lit. These too had a sinister feeling about them, like everyone in the room should be asleep with them.

The third room greeted us with these three heads, each had something written on their cheeks and foreheads: "hysteria" "anxiety" "amnesia".

That's my Dad in the corner, adding a bit of scale, he's not that miniature.

We had to wait to get in the final room. There was a big queue outside where we could hear the gallery assistant talking people through the artwork and then some amazing sounds coming out of the door. 

Inside the room there was a big circle of these gongs, hanging from the ceiling. Each gong had an inscription from the bible. Each gong had a big stick hanging next to it and each person in the room was invited to hit the gongs as and when they felt it right.

The room filled with an amazing noise. It was ACE.

Another picture of my silly friends "looking through art"

Shoes on a pole.

If you've never been to the sculpture park, shame on you. It'll cleanse your soul and give you lots of love and culture and that.

Stop reading then, get gone.