texture – colour – weight – narrative – nature – intimate – shadows

August 27, 2012

art gallery – shop – discreet – space – light – colour. A few words noted whilst waiting in the lobby. The lift in the Towner Gallery  – try it out  – is a good experience. When you exit on the 2nd floor, this is the view to the west. A sky that resonates with me. Resonates as has a feeling of some skies painted by Harold Mockford.

What to say about this exhibition? Excellently hung and fulsome. What to say about the work? Words are just meaningless and images from the web are also unsatisfactory so my thought was to include poems by Pam Hughes ‘reflecting the friendship and mutual inspiration that they have taken from the Sussex landscape’ (Shadows on the Downs).  Harold paints from memory and, I believe, that’s the spark. By inviting the viewer to be involved as a bystander in the composition it’s possible to engage with his imagination. He’s good at green too which is rare.    

   

A few images to follow that were not in the exhibition. Below ‘Refugees’ . . .

Cast a way, a drift, a shadow,

die and death, a part, a light.

An eye, a vote, a shoe upon

the path I fled in mud strewn fright.

 Lullaby the watchful spirits,

etch your name inside my heart.

Scramble through the goats’ hooved

spiked tussocks. Melt the past

with tears through karst.

 Summer draws all memories from me

as my thoughts stretch into words.

Unravelled by a gentle touch,

a word, a smell, I make a map

 from buried fragments. Plunge

into flaming collage, searching

words and tastes and sound.

Anything that will remember

you and me for ever bound     Pam Hughes  Song of a Refugee (for Anne Michaels)

Fallen Angel above and Asleep on the Downs below.  Note the sky. The only reason that I regret not being in the UK now  is not being able to revisit and revisit. A few words noted whilst waiting in the lobby:  texture – colour – weight – narrative – nature – intimate – shadows.

When I walk up on the downs

I think of things you nearly said.

 Skylarks broke through the cloudless skies,

bristly oxtongue snared my boots.

I’m sorry that I went away.

In the grass which we had flattened

purple clover kissed wild thyme.

I looked at you. You had not spoken

chalk and wind and sea-blown worlds.

 Untroubled plantain gazed at us,

salad burnet, hurt, eyebright.

We could make it work this time.

Only mouse-ears heard the things,

high on the downs, you nearly said.  Pam Hughes  Whispers

2 Responses to “texture – colour – weight – narrative – nature – intimate – shadows”

  1. Sinclair 3168 Says:

    They seem poignant somehow? The last three for me do anyway x

    • julia fogg Says:

      I love them but nobody asked for them for the show. Brilliant exhibition – technique and content stupendous – but modest as he seems to be. Thanks to Wen and Dan for the introduction.


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