Ring out the old.

 The lockdown feels like it lasted the whole of 2020, although I think it was short of that. I really have no idea. Nor do I have specific memories of anything which broke the monotony as each blank day followed the one before.

The past two or three months before Christmas were defined by endless sheets of official paperwork spreading across the lounge carpet nearest the computer and the phone, as I ploughed my way through the obstacles lining the route from Power of Attorney to funeral arrangements to Probate. That will be my abiding memory of 2020. I now move on.

I have spent recent lockdown time reorganising my artworks as they appear on the internet, even going so far as to link them with the places they depict to their location on Google maps. Looking at those maps, I was shocked at the changes which have taken place in just the last five years, but mostly at how the pandemic itself has caused several to be listed as “closed permanently”. I shall miss the Big Fish. There have also been personal closures of a different kind, and look now for changes yet to come.


All text, pros, poetry & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

Merry Christmas.

 

 

All photos & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

M-m-m-My Corona part 18. Epilogue.

 

Tonight’s sunset reminded me of the first oil painting I did, albeit that one was actually meant to be a sunrise. But the low sun and silhouetted purple clouds? Exactly the same.

Lots of things at present are invoking memories of the past. I think I’m really tired. And when I get tired, rather than resting, I start finding things to occupy my thoughts. Not that I’ve been short of things to do. The sequence of responsibilities from Power of Attorney, to managing care home costs, to organising a funeral, to applying for Probate in order to then execute a Last Will and Testament, all against the current backdrop of lockdowns and restricted movements, took their toll.

I have been attempting to write something from a personal perspective about this pandemic year, but to no avail. What is there to say about a life style of government-imposed rules, restrictions and lockdowns, interrupted by little other than trips to the grocery store?

I shall endeavour to rest my brain over the Christmas season.

 All text, pros, photos & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

R. I. P. Shelley

 Just heard the sad news via Facebook. Quite a shock, even after all these years. One always assumes the people one was close to in the past, and had meaningful relationships with, are still out there somewhere, happy and healthy. Sometimes it's not so. She passed away September 2020. I don't know the cause, but the date corresponds to the covid epidemic. I hope there was no pain.

Shelley Burton was an important person to me during the 1980’s, even though we were never destined to be together for life. During the two and a half years in which we were happily “an item”, she was both muse and motivator. The reason I exhibited quite well in the Nottingham Opens during the 1980’s, and indeed almost made it on to the wall in a Royal Academy Summer Exhibition, was down to her.

 All text, pros, poetry & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

Magritte in mind.

 

 

 When Magritte said on one of his paintings "This is not a pipe". (Rough translation). He was right. It wasn't a pipe. It was a painting of a pipe.

All text, pros, poetry & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.