It has been too long since my last post, many apologies.
Of course I have excuses but won't list them, far too boring. Just call them Life which we all understand because we all suffer from its many humdrum lamentations.
I picked up a copy of Country Life the other day in the library and was delighted to find a piece on Alan Cotton, one of my favourite artists (see above and my header pic). I saw that he has an exhibition at Messum's, 8. Cork Street, West London from 15th September to 2nd October. I also learned that he is a knife-painter (no he doesn't paint knives but he paints with knives) and that his paintings are influenced not only by my beloved west of Ireland but also by many other (warmer) climes. There is a new book out by Jenny Pery, Alan Cotton: Giving Life a Shape.
Before I go,
I will leave you with a little poem.
I found them the day after the autumn solstice
in my favourite spot beneath the willow.
beside the stream
where birds and hedgehogs feed,
otters play and the fox and badger roam at night.
A place that is sacred and silent
on early morning strolls or night-time meditations.
Beneath my feet
lay a carpet of white feathers
(I felt the usual rush of love);
wondered had there been a party
on that warm September night?
I stood quite still and stared in wonder at the sight.
Was this a blessing of sweet angels at my feet,
gathered for the celebration of the season?
I still felt their presence and sensed there had been
much merriment, for joy hung in the air
and crowds of goodbye kisses were still blowing in the breeze.