Joining the dots

 Ways of Seeing

The sky is scored, streams of white trails slash the blue, even distorting the sun above my head. It is highly unusual for the air to be cut like this over Norfolk, as usually the air is thrumming with the play-fighting of American jets, rather than with commercial aeroplanes.

I go for a drink in the Folies Bergère, where, in the 1880s Suzon would serve me in my absinthe, while I reflected on the role of mirrors in art and life....

Édouard Manet - A Bar at the Folies Bergère

Now she draws the crowds to the Courtauld Gallery, her bottles of Bass and warm champagne attracting inspection through lorgnettes....

Meanwhile, all is quiet at the Halcyon Gallery, New Bond Street, where there are spare chairs for Hockney.....

David Hockney - Sparer Chairs

It is winter near Kilham:

David Hockney - Winter Road Near Kilham

But then it is summer as well.....

And then we are in Normandy, half timbered and red-tiled.....

I find myself singing under a blue sky in Trafalgar Square (one too many absinthes, perhaps?)

And then I am on the perplexing staircase in Somerset House, aspiring to the upper floors of the Courtauld:

Under the ribbed eye whose shadow seems to be ticking like a sundial:

We are here to join up the dots of Georges Seurat's Neo-impressionist seascapes, sometimes identified as pointillist pictures.....

I stare at the wall between the frames, wondering if I am going dotty....

Then I look closer at the brushwork and try not to think of the opposing colours,

Though the closer you get the more difficult it is......

Try not to think about the way the image is created:

After all, nothing is real.  What Seurat saw on the coast of Northern France a hundred and fifty years ago is no longer there, and never was in two dimensions anyway.  In fact it wasn't even there when he 'saw' it, as light takes time to travel and then our rods and cones have to crowd down the optic nerves for our brains to interpret what is coming through the lens....

Art is a pleasure.  While some works may provoke thoughts and serve political or social ends, much of what we admire is artistry, the ways somethings are communicated.  I love the shadows in this one, not unlike Lowry, though also entirely different:

I love the transparency in this one - you can see through the boats and sails, and see the sky in the water, all of it a delightful post-impression....

I see the great courtyard outside in a similar way, the light fragmented by fine gauze, the shadows falling across the floor like drops of ink on the paving stones.....

Not far away, in the Serpentine North Gallery, Hockney (again) is looking down on us through his square glasses from his tree house:

He too is dotty. This exhibition is entitled David Hockney: A Year in Normandie and Some Other Thoughts about Painting, and the blurb informs us that David Hockney invites viewers to slow down and notice the extraordinary within the everyday..... Created specifically for this presentation, Hockney’s new paintings extend his lifelong fascination with the act of looking, affirming his belief that simple beauty is worth celebrating.

Although some critics have begun to hint that you can have too much of a good thing, I disagree, and love this wraparound display of the seasons at Hockney's French home.....

Whichever way you turn it's a colourful and subliminally happy take on nature and domesticity, a picture of gentle life as we all wish we could lead. The fact that it is not possible for everyone to reside in such an idyllic environment does not mean it is wrong.... It is a reminder that there is beauty in this world and that we should celebrate it.

Other images in the exhibition play with perspective and again remind us that what we are viewing is not reality, but a representation of what can be experienced if we use our imagination and look at pictures from different vantage points.....

Outside in Kensington Gardens Henry Moore's six metre high travertine arch frames the Long Water and a distant Palace.  What is it?  Why is it?  Does it matter?  Surely those are the questions that we ask about life, and there are no right, or wrong, answers....

Just as a ring-necked parakeet flying from a tourist's hand is meaningful or meaningless depending on which side of bed you got out of that morning,

Or as a photograph in The Photographers' Gallery may make you smile or shiver,

We should remember that it is magical and glorious to be able to see anything.  We who have sight are blessed and we must be grateful for what we have.  

Back home I get up early to watch the sun come up over the North Sea, amazed by the power of light to banish the dark, thrilled by the bands of grey and gold, by the streaming rays that bring us life....

I am beginning to lose the point.....

Never mind.  It is what it is....

I would like to be a dot in a painting by Miro.

Barely distinguishable from other dots,

it’s true, but quite uniquely placed.

And from my dark centre

I’d survey the beauty of the linescape

and wonder-would it be worthwhile

to roll myself towards the lemon stripe,

centrally poised, and push my curves

against its edge, to get myself

a little extra attention?

But it’s fine where I am.

I’ll never make out what’s going on

around me, and that’s the joy of it.

Moniza Alvi

I Would Like to be a Dot in a Painting by Miro

from The Country at my Shoulder (OUP, 1993)

*****

For my companion in art

*****

Down Memory Lane

The Thin Blue Line

The blue bell is the sweetest flower

That waves in summer air;

Its blossoms have the mightiest power

To soothe my spirit’s care.

Emily Brontë

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child....

1 Corinthians chapter 13 verse 11

King James Version

And also when I was a child I rode my bike as a child, played in the woods as a child, climbed trees as a child, and loved the world around me as a child.....

And much of that time was spent in the Chilterns, roaming free in the countryside and the woods, watching the seasons roll around with flowers, leaves, trees, birds.....   Those were carefree days; little bothered me (as far as I can remember) but they were long ago.  Time has evaporated.....

And in the passing of time, so have family and friends passed away, and life has had its excitements and its depressions. So much has changed, so much has developed...... But, If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.....

We retrace my steps.  In the gardens of Ashridge House Queen Elizabeth I had walked as a child.  I was following a thin blue line back into the past, but I am reminded that life goes on, that flowers grow again and again, that trees stand their ground, that without the interference of despots and tyrants the world can be a beautiful place.....

So, If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing....  These words, in various forms, keep coming back to me, echoing over the decades (my brother Simon read them as we gathered at the end of one school year). 

Or as Deon Jackson so gently hinted in 1963:

Without love, flowers wouldn't grow in spring

And without spring, yeah, the birdies just couldn't sing

Yeah, everybody needs love

though some might add:

Spring is sprung, the grass is riz.

I wonder where the birdies is.

They say the bird is on the wing, but that’s absurd.

I always thought the wing was on the bird.

Hey....

Ho!

So, back in the Chilterns, in Ashridge, walking in Dockey Wood, the air fragrant with bluebell dust, the wind scintillating the fresh green beech leaves.... It is wonderful. I love it all.  And it is love that makes the world go round.....

The carpet so rich, so fine, so evanescent. A week or two and it will be gone, lost to the pollinators and the onlookers for another year, unless captured by an artist......

We move on. The next morning Tring Park is fresh and airy, the sap spiralling out into the new leaves as the temperature rises and the days lengthen:

Then we wind back to the Dunstable Downs and to the Whipsnade Tree Cathedral, created by Edmund Blyth to commemorate his friends who lost their lives in the First World War. This is an enchanted place, and we lie under the flowering cherries in the Easter Chapel, the sun scattering its rays through the petals:

I will not mention the unmentionable, and I am not one to quote biblical phrases lightly, but, given the unnecessary and unimaginable suffering unleashed by the ignorance and greed of certain men, the words of the damascene convert hover above me in the glorious light that (almost) blinds me:

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres....

1 Corinthians chapter 13 verses 4-7

New International Version

We walk around and over Ivinghoe Beacon, the start of the Ridgeway, and a splendid viewpoint over the Vale of Aylesbury, where cowslips gloriously flourish:

Then dive back into Ashridge Forest for a last wonder at the thin blue line:

And a surprise encounter with an earnest badger, doing the housework at the sett's back door, another reminder that the world is diverse and wonderful:  

I am told that Badgers eat hedgehogs, and that therefore they are not to be loved, but please read this piece from the website Hedgehog Street:

Hedgehogs and badgers share what’s known as an asymmetric intraguild predation relationship. Badgers can affect hedgehogs in one of three ways:

Competition; the two species compete for many of the same food sources. These include soil invertebrates such as earthworms and beetle larvae.

 

Predation; badgers can predate hedgehogs.

 

Avoidance; hedgehogs will avoid areas where badgers have been active. Where there are many badgers, hedgehogs are likely to be less common.

While badgers do prey on hedgehogs, this is natural predator-prey interaction. Although badger numbers have boomed in recent years, there is little evidence that suggests they are the main reason why hedgehogs are in trouble. Indeed, hedgehogs are struggling in rural places where we know few badgers live, like East Anglia. Where conditions are favourable and invertebrate food is readily available, the two species can co-exist.

The two species have co-existed for thousands of years, which suggests that recent human activity has been a more prominent factor in the decline of hedgehogs.

Or, as the British Hedgehog Preservation Society says:

Pointing the finger at a single cause, such as predation by badgers or road casualties, likely misses the bigger, more complex picture.

Before we leave we pay our respects to Bob's Oak, a four hundred year old tree that, despite the weariness of age, is still sprouting fresh foliage from the tips of its twigs. A youth in the reign of Charles I, this veteran reminds us that peace and love can transcend the foibles of the mad and the vicissitudes of wind and weather.

This spring, and especially these last few days, has/have been glorious. Yes, I have been wandering down memory lane, but nothing is as important as the infinitely expanding present. As Alan Watts (in Become What You Are) said: Life exists only at this very moment, and in this moment it is infinite and eternal. For the present moment is infinitely small: before we can measure it, it has gone, and yet it persists forever....

There is a silent eloquence

In every wild bluebell

That fills my softened heart with bliss

That words could never tell.

Anne Brontë

*********

For CJ

If you walk, just walk. If you sit, just sit. But don’t wobble.

Yunmen Wenyan

*********

Primavera

 O spring has set off her green fuses....

Breathe, breathe in the air.

Don't be afraid to care.

Leave but don't leave me.

Look around and choose your own ground.

Long you live and high you fly

And smiles you'll give and tears you'll cry

And all you touch and all you see

Is all your life will ever be.

Breathe (In the Air)

Pink Floyd

David Gilmour, Richard Wright, Roger Waters

The Dark Side of the Moon

What's not to like? The world still turns. The tyrant is dead (OK that is wishful thinking, but it will happen.....) The Streets [sic] of Hormuz are opening to traffic, and oil is well.....

Apparently you can see the canals of Ken Hill from the dark side of the moon, though you might need a Hasselblad (and a mirror).....  But I am so happy there is a dark side - I was beginning to think it was just a flat cheese plate.  My only worry is that the space portal-loo doesn't seem to work....

Anyway, I have been out in my tractor - a harrowing experience [Stoppit!  Ed]....

Anyway again, I am glad that someone is ploughing the fields and scattering the good seed on the land. [Wir pflügen und wir streuen - Matthias Claudius, 1782 - Ed]....  Someone's got to do it, or the good Burghers of McDonald won't have the ultra-processed Fleurs du mal that Charlie Baudelaire so enjoyed.....

Si le viol, le poison, le poignard, l'incendie,

N'ont pas encore brodé de leurs plaisants dessins

Le canevas banal de nos piteux destins,

C'est que notre âme, hélas ! n'est pas assez hardie.

Au lecteur

Les Fleurs du mal

Charles Baudelaire

(Who wrote in French, as Europeans do)

Anyway, yet again, to shut a strong lorry cort, I have been springing to my feets and wandering the pleasant lands around me, breathing the air, and not afraid to care.

I love the spring, largely because of the resurgence of life after the darkness and death of winter [Thank you Jesus - Ed], but also because of the physical warmth of sunshine and the uplifting light that brings us Vitamin D [An essential fat-soluble nutrient that regulates calcium and phosphate in the body, crucial for maintaining healthy bones, teeth, and muscles - Ed].

I love to see nature coming to life.  I love to walk where we have made our homes, and I am so grateful that, so far, at least, we have not been subjected to the extreme violence that is the daily and nightly diet of the citizens of Ukraine and much of the Middle East. I shudder in horror at the indiscriminate killing of ordinary people, the destruction of homes, hospitals, schools, bridges, power plants etc.  But, we are fortunate - by chance.  It is a privilege, but that is by chance.  It has not always been so - there are plenty of reminders around us of the Second World War in the shape of concrete gun emplacements, bombing ranges and air bases. 

Say what you like, but this recent vortex of violence was unnecessary.  Forgive me for this quotation, but today's leader in The Guardian was a powerful statement of just how wrong things can be:  The US has squandered tens of billions of dollars, burned through its interceptors and torched relations with allies.  That may not bother Mr Trump, who had premised victory on the conditional reopening of a waterway that was not closed prior to the conflict.  But the war has also spooked markets, raised prices at home and showed signs of fracturing his Maga base.

Mr Trump chose to believe Benjamin Netanyahu's assurance that this would be a short and easy war, but soon found himself seeking an exit......  The war has destabilised the region and normalised talk of war crimes, further trashing the idea of a rules-based order..... 

The tide is out. The earth is scorched. But seven avocets can stand on one leg while Artemis [The ancient Greek goddess of the hunt, wilderness  and wild animals et al, sometimes called Cynthia - Ed].... while Artemis spins through space, leaving us breathless....

Near here the clouds add to the reflected beauty of beach scenes:

The wind blows fresh and cool, disturbing little but the dust and what's left of my hair.....

Sea lavender (limonium vulgare) brings colour to the dun and grey of winter:

Alexanders (smyrnium olusatrum), possibly the gift of the invading Roman legions, burst into life by the waysides:

Ramsons, or wild garlic (allium ursinum) fill the air with an unmistakable scent by the Ingol river [for which in 2018 Anglian Water funded the creation of a natural treatment wetland - instead of a traditional chemical upgrade - which now acts as a giant, living water purifier - Ed].

At Dersingham Bog National Nature Reserve [which merges with the now infamous refuge of Wolferton Fen - Ed] birch trees stand guard over rare and diverse species of plants such as bog asphodels, round-leaved sundew, white beaked sedge and cranberry....

We walk at Courtyard Farm, Ringstead, and admire the budding trees, as the sap rises and leaves unfurl. I am reminded of Charles Causley's Spring 1818, which commemorates John Keats's departure from this land, When spring fired her fusilladoes, and then we come across a Taiwan (or Formosan) cherry (prunus campanulata), which is another beautiful reminder of international disharmony and threat....

And then, as the sun slips away to add another layer of yellow to the sickening POTUS, we enter a field of cowslips (primula veris) which brings us back to the natural glory of spring in our part of the world, where delicate shoots go untrampled, and the cycle of life goes on.  In Look! We have come through! D H Lawrence wrote: 

We shall not look before and after.

We shall be, now.

We shall know in full.

We, the mystic NOW.

[NB, He also wrote:

Oh, America,

The sun sets in you.

Are you the grave of our day?

Ed.]

And there we have it.  A row of oaks march down towards the wash in the early morning light:

While our village church stands proud upon the hill, catching the farewell glance of the evening sun, a symbol, even to the unfaithful, that there is a place for differences of belief and practice.  If there is a god, then surely it is the same god that envelops Hegseth and Netanyahu and Khamenei?  

But then in truth the god that really matters is surely Apollo [The god of divine distance - the god who made mortals aware of their own guilt and purified them of it - Ed]? 

Well yes, but Apollo is also the god of light, music, prophecy, and healing, and, perhaps, above all, the god of the sun, without whom/which there would be no life, no spring, no resurrection....

Arrest my case.....

For one who has nothing to worry about:

Breathe, breathe in the air.

Don't be afraid to care.

Leave but don't leave me.

Look around and choose your own ground.....