#buildapril 2020

 Build April was a Twitter sketchbook challenge.

M-m-m My Corona part 7.

 Mum’s care home suggested a Skype chat might cheer her up during this lockdown when visitors are not allowed. Okay, I’m game. Bearing in mind mum has never understood, and obviously never will, this whole 21st century thing of internet communication.

I’m betting that twenty years ago she could still remember how to sew together a parachute in a war factory, not to mention a few pairs of knickers for herself, put together from the left-over scraps and slipped into her handbag before the supervisor saw. All the girls did that. But the concept of a two-way conversation with a family member via a screen which to her looks like a TV? No way. As the saying goes: “Does not compute”. Literally.

So, a short Skype was spent with her telling the carers sat beside her about the “nice smile” the person on the screen has (me), rather than talking directly to it. Blowing kisses was an achievement.

A few words of acquired wisdom for anyone whose parents are reaching a very advanced age; this being the time just after “there are witches in the house” and the care home opening its doors to whatever the future holds:

Firstly, greetings style cards are no good. Old fingers cannot always negotiate the envelope, nor handle the folding mechanism of the card itself, and your handwriting probably now resembles scribble to them. Secondly, to an old person, a phone ringing means a complete and absolute disaster has befallen their entire family and, walking frame or no walking frame, they must reach the phone at a pace which challenges all previous Olympic records, pacemaker be damned. Also, a phone conversation in the morning will be forgotten by the afternoon. It’s an intangible thing and cannot fill the empty space of the day.

My solution has been very simple: Using a very plain font style, and as large as fits onto one single A4 sheet, print out a letter. It need only convey three basic things in big text:

1. Your children and grandchildren are all fine and doing well…
2. Do you remember… (Mention something happy from the past).
3. We are all looking forward to seeing you soon…

On a second A4 sheet print out an old photograph from the family album. Group scenes and locations can be confusing. Close-ups are good.

And that’s it. They have something they can return to through the day, read even with well advanced cataracts, and show other people. Be humble, keep it simple.

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

M-m-m My #Corona Part 6

 

I made a quick rainbow design for my kitchen window, this being the symbol for supporting the NHS during the current pandemic.

Art copyright ian gordon craig.

M-m-m My #Corona Part 5.

 I’ve just realised what’s been nagging me: No vapour trails. Normally there is a steady flow of on-high airliners destined for East Midlands Airport. Far too high to be a disturbance; just a constant and familiar presence in a sky now unbroken blue.

This morning Twitter is telling me “He is risen”. I hope he’s brought toilet rolls and hand sanitizers with him. I was christened and confirmed at all the appropriate ages, but soon grew curious about a faith system which portrays their hero as a strikingly handsome white man, often with blonde hair and blue eyes. But one could never get a sensible answer about such things. It would be like asking Cadbury’s which is their favourite chocolate. I did enjoy going to Sunday school though. I liked the Church of England stamp albums we were issued, and the beautifully illustrated attendance stamps, encouraging us not to miss a week. No child likes an empty space in their stamp album. And I am rather partial to an Easter egg or two.

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

M-m-m- my Corona part 4.

 

Yesterday I received the call from my mother’s carer. Coronavirus has now entered her care home.

What then stayed in my mind for the rest of the evening was not so much the information; frankly that had been anticipated. No. The thing which did haunt me was the tone in that young carer’s voice. Probably only about twenty-five years old, but with a voice now trying to conceal a combination of fear, and trying to keep calm. Much like one might imagine coming from someone inside a doomed airliner, unable to get out.

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

M-m-m-my Corona part 3.

 

In light of current events one of the two exhibitions I applied for recently has decided to go “virtual”: An on-line show only. In some ways I suppose it will make little difference. That’s how most people experience art now anyway, and in greater numbers.

The other exhibition is intending to go ahead. Perhaps they can space the paintings 2 metres apart, with police barrier tape on the carpet. “Move along please, you’ve been stood there looking at that one for virtually five minutes already!"

I am reminded of the Jerome Kern song: “A Fine Romance, my friend this is, a Fine Romance with no kisses”. It’s all well and good, but it won’t make babies.

 All text and photos copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

M-m-m-my Corona part 2.

 

 “How long now?”
“Third week for me”.
“And you’re already talking to yourself?”
“No, I've been doing that for years”.

I seem to be in competition with myself as to how much coffee I can drink. I won’t win. Nobody I know drinks more coffee than me these days. Does anyone remember “Camp Coffee”? It was a brown liquid; something to do with chicory essence. No doubt more chicory than coffee. It had a “faithful servant” Sikh soldier on the label, waiting on the needs of his Scottish Major, a Gordon Highlander. (Maybe he was a “camp” soldier?) Anyway, it would have been the Gordon Highlander name that got it into our house. I was practically breast fed on “Camp" because of the kilt on the label. It was only going to be a matter of time before I hit the harder stuff.

You know how the 20th century actually started in 1914? And, on a smaller scale, the sixties in 1963? Or perhaps you don’t. Well, it feels like the 21st century has gotten underway. Twenty years after Tony Blair’s silly Millennium Tent; nine later than the loss of the Twin Towers. Remember what Jack Harkness said: “The 21st Century that’s when it all began”. Welcome.

Today I donned my purple surgeon’s gloves, pulled a scarf up over my face, and joined the line of Sainsbury’s shopping trolleys. Police tape on the ground measured out the distance between each customer, as limited numbers were allowed to enter the store. I felt and looked like a cross between Claude Rains' Invisible Man and the Lone Ranger. Have to confess, in a “dark” sort of way it was quite humorous.

Seeing anyone cough or sneeze now, is a bit like that moment in a soap opera or movie when you think “that’s it, they’re going to be written out of the script”.

White oil paint has become the new toilet roll in terms of rarity, at least that’s what it seemed like trying to purchase some Titanium White on the ‘net today. Maybe everyone is doing what I’ve been doing: Locking myself away and painting. I still have a long since unfinished plastic pollution painting, which I’ll get around to during the months of confinement ahead. Today I re-arranged my laptop and easel for maximum efficiency, enquired about a new place I might want to move to, ate far too many chocolate bourbons, and got news that relatives in London have sore throats. It’ll be fine.

 All text copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

#animalmarch 2020

 

 Animal March was a Twitter art challenge.

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

M-m-m-my Corona part 1.

 

 

This pandemic is going to be around for a LONG time, isn’t it? One is reminded of the “over by Christmas” promises of a century ago. I very much doubt we’ll reach any such deadlines.

I was out shopping this morning. The first Sainsburys I went to had a long equidistant line of supermarket trolleys around the car park, monitored by security guards. Deciding to drive to an alternative Sainsbury’s slightly nearer home, I found I could walk straight in and purchase pretty much anything I liked, in moderation. The petrol station at the end of my road has a floor to ceiling toilet roll display. In a crisis, toilet rolls always become a kind of currency in the UK.

I have enough stuff, for now. Probably more tins of beans and macaroni cheese than I’ve ever eaten in my life, but also a good stock of fresh fruit and veggies for my morning blender. (Can’t cook won’t cook). And vitamin pills.

Obviously, I’m spending time making art. I think I started on this self-isolation malarkey back in 1960. My favourite childhood weekend activity was setting out with a home-made sketchbook and an improvised specimen box for the pheasant feathers and owl pellets I collected along the way, all then to be studied and sketched beside a strictly out of bounds deer hut. No such opportunity at present. Over these past two days the sunshine brought to mind all the places I like to go sketching but can’t visit, as scenic estates and attractions across the county are understandably shut down. No complaints.

Yesterday, as I stood on my doorstep nursing my usual morning coffee, a peacock butterfly came past and settled down on the sunlit path. It seemed so out of place.

All text & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

#LandFebruary 2020.

Above: Clipstone Colliery. Positioned at the side of the route to mother's care home, this view would be familiar to all the family.

Land February was a Twitter art challenge.

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

#sketchjanuary 2020

 From #sketchjanuary to #stilldecember, Twitter has an art hashtag for each month. As a personal challenge I am intending to produce several artworks per month through 2020 using those tags.

Just stop.

 

December 2019. I returned to writing / editing “my intended novel” with the best of intentions. The plan was to use the dark nights, not best suited to painting, for writing. At first all was well, but distractions soon set in. Some business, some personal. Whatever. So, I stopped. I just stopped.

Stopped thinking about writing; stopped thinking about painting and galleries; stopped thinking about social engagements that felt now more like appointments; stopped the delusion that social media was of any value in promoting my work. Stopped, and took a little time to think through what it is I want to do, and what the deadline might be. It’s difficult to explain, but considering how much time I spend in my own company, I never think I have a peaceful life. It always seems so cluttered.

So, I have begun clearing the clutter. Gradually I have started to get a clearer perspective on things. I look forward to 2020. I’m hoping there will be less cake and more sunshine.

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

if a picture paints a thousand words.

 

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

Closure on those "blue remembered hills"?

 Thoresby Park dominated much of the month. Firstly, the photographs I sorted out for them at their request, for an intended exhibition / publication, were enthusiastically received. I also received a request from a “Ploughing Competition” event being held there to use some pictures from my Thoresby blog for a display. I of course agreed.

Secondly, two of my artworks were hung there in this year’s Open Exhibition, although I have to confess the gallery there is not what it once was.

Thirdly, and importantly, I attended their Heritage Day event, which proved to be quite a revelation. I had always thought the estate’s status effectively ended with the death of Lady Rozelle, the last of the Manvers family line, but not so. She had sought out a distant descendant of the Pierrepont's, and it is he who now lives in the large purpose-built mansion I used to observe from the far side of the lake, and which now harbours several artefacts from the Hall.

At the end of the tour I gained permission to walk around the outside of the Woodyard and take some photographs, Permission I was soon in need of when a security van pulled up to ask me what I was doing! It meant a lot to be able to do that one last time. Box ticked. Closure?
 

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

Self Portraits.

 “I always take a close look at those who lose themselves in self-portraits. They are solitary souls, prone to introspection” (Young-Ha Kim).

I find myself more and more interested in bright, primary colours. “Unless you try to do something beyond what you have already mastered, you will never grow” (Ralph W Emerson).

“I loathe my own face, and I've done self-portraits because I've had nobody else to do”. (Francis Bacon).

“O would the gift, the gift He’d give us, to see ourselves as others see us.” (Robert Burns, translated from the Scottish).

All artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

Harley Gallery, Worksop.

 

 

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

The days go by. 2

 My sketchbook pages are actually visual diaries.

"A chair is a difficult object. A skyscraper is almost easier. That is why Thomas Chippendale is famous". ( Mies van der Rohe).

"Our children will think of bananas as green or something teacher used to demonstrate condoms. Fine. Their children will think tigers and gorillas were mythical creatures like dragons which never truly existed. Not fine". (Ian Gordon Craig).

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