After a monumentally stressful week at work it was intensely therapeutic to wash up in Cornwall. Breath out.
Stormy skies and wind swept cliffs.
Amazing hairy rocks.
Seaside symmetry at Tate St.Ives
There in the distance – Its the lighthouse that inspired Virginia Woolf’s “To the Lighthouse”. I love the section in the middle of that book where the house is left empty, time passes and slowly the objects shift, decay and age.
The cinema in St.Ives, simultaneously resplendent and down at heel.
Established in the Fields of Great Britain. Adding to my Rural Mythologies Archive.
Barbara Hepworth had excellent taste in garden furniture.
Hepworth’s garden with Japanese quince.
Hepworth’s ghost studio. Everything has to be kept in exactly the same position. The guide said that the large doors are the only wheelchair access to the museum, and when they are used the attendant has to be sure to replace the coats in exactly the same order. She admitted that once she had been performing this task and a whisk fell out of one of the pockets. She wanted to have a good root around to find out what else was in there – but she didn’t.
Sculpture slice. Polished bronze, bronze with patina, stone with fossils.
Gallery paraphernalia. An unaesthetic corner of the Hepworth studio. Apparently the Hepworth family had vetoed the Tate’s no photo policy, so they had to paint out the camera sign.
Vegetarian tapas, delicious.
What is this? This is the shadow of a Seagull’s bum.
I do prefer my alcoholic beverages to be served from a crystal skull where at all possible.
String vortex. Seeing a bit of Hepworth inspiration down on the harbor.
Seaside surrealism. The lighthouse has a Christmas light, which is candles looking a bit like lighthouses, my brain hurts.
There is a vast Morrisson’s distribution centre somewhere around Glastonbury. It has been “camouflaged” with this attractive green cladding. There has always been an impulse to try and make infra-structure invisible.