Paul Nash at Tate Britain

This was a trip that nearly didn’t happen. My friend Millie and her son David were due to go but just the day before they realised they were too ill to travel. So in the morning I decided it was still necessary for me to go (seemed a shame to waste the tickets), however I had one last dice to throw and so rang up my friend Ric and suggested he and his girl Erica come along instead. They had a little think and then decided to do it. Hurrah! Its easy to talk existentialism not so easy to do it, so well done Ric and Erica, good decision.

We made our way to London and met at Victoria. We walked down to Tate Britain (drifting slightly off track as I usually do) and before we knew it we were walking around the Paul Nash exhibition.

Paul Nash is someone I’ve been aware of for most of my life and here and there over the years I have seen one or two pieces in exhibitions, museums, galleries etc. But I have never seen a full show of his work until now so this seemed like the moment to step up and take a view on his work.


There are masterpieces from this period including Totes Meer (Dead Sea) 1940-41 and The Menin Road 1919. These show the darkness and destruction of war and in the case of The Menin Road efectively define World War I. Totes Meer (Dead Sea) reflects Nash’s Surrealism influences as it combines World War II machinery with a landscape Nash painted during his none war years. There are some excellent other works that show the reality of war and Nash’s rather unique skill (though I noticed Georgia O’Keefe also does it in a previous show) of painting night scenes adds to the darkness and despair of war.


Before World War I, between the two wars and then after World War II Nash is busy. He paints landscape by default and there are plenty of those. The colour palette contrasting radically with the war palette. He shows influences from De Chirico and Surealism to cubism and for me Braque rather than Picasso. His interests are diverse from stone circles to tree trunks (which he paints badly). There is a noticeably architectural influence throughout his work and this serves him well when he’s expressing himself through surealism. There’s a wink to Van Gogh towards the end of the show to finish off.

2017-02-27 00.35.03This is a good show, it covers the full range of Paul Nash’s work and gives an excellent feel for what he is about. Some of what he is about is what he’s interested in but his life was bookended by two wars and so some of his work was brought about by circumstance. With Nash the effect seems to have been very noticeable and there is a stark difference between the work he produced during the wars and the work he produced outside of war.

Finally a small mention for Eileen Agar Paul Nash’s partner. There is some of her work in the show and interesting it is too. So look out for her.

Tate Britain rather failed after the show. It clearly wasn’t able to handle two large shows at once (David Hockney is also on) and so the cafe and book shop were swamped. I did the book shop but we skipped the cafe in favour of going anywhere else.

2017-02-24 17.06.072017-02-24 16.52.172017-02-24 16.52.01A pleasant if trafficy walk along the Thames brought us to the very imposing Houses of Parliament. We dived inland a little and got ourselves to St. James’s Park as quickly as we could (my friends are not city folk and prefer countryside). This proved a good move as the cafe there was nicely easy to navigate and so before long we had a nice seat over looking the pond with ducks, other birds and even squirrels to entertain. A pleasant walk through the park brought us to Buckingham Palace and a short walk from there found us in Victoria station ready to go home. Because of our useless privatised railway system we were required to stop at Victoria for a couple of hours until we could travel and so made the most of it by having a couple of beers in the pub there which I have drunk in many times over the past thirty five years. After a couple of beers Ric and I were ready to go home but Erica wanted more beer, it took us a while to make her see sense (;-)) and catch the next train home. Very nice day, thanks for that guys. Also thanks to Millie for my ticket!

Why I’ve joined the Green Party

I haven’t been a member of a party since the early nineteen eighties when I joined CND, I imagine about the same time as Caroline Lucas did. We were supporting the Greenham Common Women’s Peace Camp alongside other things but I was too much of an individual to stay a member and so quietly let it lapse. I’m still too much of an individual to join a party but ‘the times they are a changin’ and so today seems like the right day to throw my hat in the ring. In recent years I’ve tried to prioritise my politics towards the environment and sustainability (I’m not very good at it personally but all of you should do it (see, too individual)) before other issues and as a result have been voting for the greens for a number of years having been a Labour supporter (though not a member of course) previously. I’m very lucky to live in the one place in the country where my vote can actually elect a green MP (Brighton) and I’m happy to continue to do that. I’ve joined the party because it is time for all those on the left to unite. I want a world were we have a living wage, a sustainable planet based on renewable energy and public services restored to the public for the common good. I’m not much of a political force but you’re welcome to my hat greens.

Brighton 5 v 0 Norwich

2016-10-29-16-42-15You don’t get to see a 5-0 very often in your life and as an Ipswich fan I’ve been lucky to experience that against the old enemy Norwich, 21st February 1998. So to experience it twice was a joy, a spy in the Brighton camp I am never the less a supporter and of course especially so against Norwich.

The game swung on an early goal at the opposite end to us. An opportunist piece of work from Glenn Murray, stealing the ball from the keeper and slotting it in. I didn’t celebrate the goal because I thought the ref would blow at any moment but he never did and that was that. In a tight first half where Norwich impressed the goal helped settle the Seagulls and their supporters and beer at half time saw a discussion about how good Norwich looked and how we’d do well to hold them today.

2016-10-29-16-47-32Murrays second got the fans going (it being in front of the North stand) and suddenly Norwich looked shaky at the back and Brighton began to attack them from all sides. Four minutes later Dunk sailed above the defence and bang 3-0. The Norths getting up for this now and even I’m celebrating the goals like its Ipswich (if only). Murray scores the fourth, his hatrick and this is where we crack, furiously jumping around hugging strangers just because its that kind of moment. It feels significant and so we photograph the scoreboard just to say we were there. But that’s not the end and my dream to see five against Norwich again is given to me by the Seagulls. Knockaert scores a wonderful chipped goal right in front of us and we all go wild again, crowd singing lets go fucking mental. We photograph the scoreboard again and the moment is complete. Thank you Seagulls, it was great to see Norwich go down 5-0 for a second time and brought all the memories of 1998 back to life.

Georgia O’Keefe – Fiercest of warriors

379px-O'Keeffe-(hands)The Georgia O’Keefe show at Tate Modern is perhaps an alternative view of the most famous female painter in history. Traditionally we think of her as someone who paints flowers, not just flowers of course, they mean much more than that but flowers never the less. This show balances all her styles and subjects on one plate to give us the fuller view of her oeuvre. The outcome is a clearer view of this fierce warrior painting on the edge, abstracts, skulls, cityscapes, night paintings, it’s all there.

Composition is key to her decision making often perfectly balancing a painting down its centre point with contrasting sides of one object (see Calla Lilies on Red 1928). She stares sharply and then paints that sharpness often bringing things to a literal sharp point. Her colour is always perfectly balanced and reminded me of Caspar David Friedrich slowly shifting down from the full colour to paler and paler versions. She also paints a perfect gradient using the same colour shift, blending the colour as if it had been airbrushed.

My personal favourites were a beautiful nightscape of New York City (New York Night 1928-9), the beautiful Calla Lilies on Red 1928 and Horses Skull on Blue 1931.

2016-08-26 12.56.58It was a hot day in London with my friend Millie. We had a light lunch around Borough Market and found shade under a well placed tree. I took pity on a scrawny cat and fed him some of my gourmet Sausage roll, he seemed grateful. We then walked along the South Bank of the Thames towards our goal of Tate Modern. Received poor service from London Travel Inn Capital Southwark, better service from Swan connected to the Globe Theatre. Having spent two hours going round the exhibition and then re-hydrating in the cafe afterwards we took a peek at the new extension at the back of the Tate on our way out and then walked on until we got to Giraffe on Southbank Centre. The food was adequate without being spectacular but our compliments to the staff who were excellent in challenging conditions.

2016-08-26 17.12.42To finish the trip we had to sneek me all the way home without a train ticket having lost mine somewhere in london. But we’re old hands and got the job done nicely. Lovely day.

Jazz, Neil Young and Pink Floyd

In my experience there is life and then there is none. This post is about life. A pleasant evening with Ric, first we listened and the subtleties of Jazz washed over us and then we discussed it. Beer and then bourbon helped and then we drank more bourbon and discussed other things and the barman wanted to hear us tell him that Georgia O’Keeffe was the meaning to his life. Ric, still fierce, a warrior who must be slowly brought back to the fight. Time came and Ric runs for the last bus, I on the other hand fall into the clutches of POW, my favourite pub where sometimes time stands still and this night time stood still. Many more bourbon, wonderful conversations with dutch Vikings who wonderfully love the British and are happy to know us despite #brexit. Then Zebra and 6fish regale the boy who is a living saint with tales from the seventies and eighties, drugs, booze, shagging, break ins and death defying accidents. We’ve done it all. The bourbon flows until time loses all meaning and finally Pink Floyd comes into focus.

Talk of Networked Doom and offices re-arranged for fun only. We did it all and Pink Floyd was the sound track to our lives. It’s better to burn out than to fade away. It was 19:00 pm when I left the flat, it’s 02:00 am now, to ruin and the worlds end.

A Perfect Day

Attending someone’s funeral isn’t usually a good sign if you’re looking to have a perfect day. But this day was the perfect day and the funeral was perfectively part of it.

I walked in the sunshine through the sleepy village of Needham Market to the train station heading for my old friends funeral thinking of him as I walked. On the platform I looked across the countryside while I waited for the train and I knew that Dale was with me, he would stay all day I realised later.

The train pulled in and I scanned the passengers on board, there was a small chance another old friend of mine might have got my message and be on board. I couldn’t see her and so decided to board. As I sat down and wondered whether to check the train properly I felt a tap on the shoulder and there she was, the perfect girl for my perfect day.

We grabbed a taxi at Ipswich station to ensure we would be on time and had fun chatting with our driver who’s broad Suffolk accent was a perfect accompaniment to our journey. He got us where we needed to be and we laughed as we left his company.

Fearing an austere funeral ceremony our fears were allayed immediately and it was clear this would go well and when Effervescing Elephant by Syd Barratt came on we all relaxed. Dale had sent his messenger to ease our fears.

The call came out for people to speak and mistakenly I faltered. Unprepared as I was I did not want to spoil peoples last goodbye. But, I had something to say and here it is. Dale and I discussed many things but we always came back to one thing and that one thing was ‘it’. We couldn’t define ‘it’ and so we called it, ‘it’. We felt that we had ‘it’ and that everyone should strive to achieve ‘it’. Later, I found a better definition of ‘it’ when reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Robert Pirsig described it as ‘quality’ and quality defines Dale Mann. 

We said our goodbyes, briefly meeting Dale’s son, it was like looking my old friend straight in the eye.

I had planned to walk down the cemetary as we left and this proved a good decision, there was nothing depressing about walking through the cemetary and workers chatting as we went combined with dog walkers and joggers made the walk pleasant. We strayed only slightly before perfectly finding the bottom of the cemetary and so the top of Cemetary Road. A short walk down, passing the place I lived for a short while back in those old days and then we were at the bottom of Hervey Street. My brothers old house where too I had lived in those days. Across Cobbold Street and we were at the bottom of Bolton Lane. I lived on Bolton Lane while I was at art school and so it was nice to see it again.

And so to my goal, Christchurch Park. Tea with the perfect girl, looking across the pond where my old friend Tony and I came to feed the ducks in our first year at art school. Tony too is lost but not forgotten.

2016-08-03 13.01.24My next goal was to walk up the hill to where the childrens playground now exists, it wasn’t there when Dale and I and our other friends used to hang out there. On the crest of the hill there you will see a single large tree, I call it The One Tree. It was our tree, many days spent drinking under it, shading from the sun, talking, always talking. If you go there, you will find Dale and some day me. The perfect girl shed a tear and as usual I didn’t know how to console her, but the tear was perfect and the moment slowly passed. I told her the story I have of Dale and the one tree..

When Dale and I were friends I was like a puppy that gnawed at his ankle to begin with. Slowly he brought me up to speed with George Harrison and others. But in the beginning I was still a schoolboy and so still delighted in school boy jinx. We were hanging about under The One Tree one day and I did something to upset him, I can’t actually remember what it was but he quickly had fire in his eyes and since I’d not seen that before I legged it down the hill heading north across the park. Being tall and in those days young I was confident I could out run him, I was wrong. Dale was lythe and ran fast and so he chased me across the park, I turned this way and that but could not shake him. Eventually I headed back to the hill and The One Tree and an idea came to me. I slowed my pace very slightly and allowed Dale to get as close to me as I dared, as I ran around the hill I suddenly turned to run up the hill, just as Dale was about to bring me down I deliberately fell to the ground and scrunched up like a ball. Because he was so close to me he had no time to adjust his step and so fell over me. I jumped up and ran up the hill to The One Tree. Puppy had triumphed and the old dog had cooled the fire in his eyes, accepting his fate. Because I won the battle that day I never forgot it of course and would give anything to have the fun of Dale chasing me across the park again.

It was time for the perfect girl and I to leave and we walked down the slope musing at how on earth I had managed to run up it once!

We passed through Ipswich and ended up in the Town Hall cafe/gallery. While we had coffee and scones we saw the Jackson Pollocks Paul had spoken about. As we left I saw Mannings on the left and since it was an old haunt of Dale and I we stopped by for a drink. Wonderful to see that it has not changed at all, a very rare thing these days.

And so to the train station for the journey home. It was hard to leave the perfect girl but circumstances meant we had to part quickly and before I knew it I was on my way back to Needham Market.

Goodbye my old friend, our connection was strong and stood the test of time. You held to our pact and sought quality all your life and so shall I.


The Perfect Girl


The Puppy

Falling down drunk

This ones for Trace. Oh my goodness, its been a lot of years since I was falling down drunk but last night I was falling down drunk! For some reason (nothing to do with the endless Asahi and Jack Daniels Honey shots) my stool just wouldn’t play ball and I couldn’t stay on it! Fortunately my old friend John was there to pick me up, the fact that I fell down again was nothing to do with him 🙂 I once fell out of a pub twice and this was a similar experience.

My compliments to everyone at the bar last night. Before the falling down drunkenness we had a surprisingly serious debate about the referendum and I was impressed by how seriously everyone took it. Go to the polls and vote!

A pub that has an angel behind the bar is a blessed place and POW has an angel, full of hope and with a voice to match. Me and my favourite Dyke 😉 had a lovely conversation and we bathed in the glow of our resident angel.

There are certain places in the world where magic resides and POW is one of those places.

Can’t tell you how happy I am that the democrats are taking part in a sit in in congress. Get yourself down there POTUS.

The man who decided to paint

(editor) This is not strictly a memory of mine more a short story based on a story told to me recently.


12046659_10153265306487872_3333843375679983499_nHe’d been thinking about it for a while and he had one or two friends who painted so it seemed like quite a good idea. But how to start?

6fish had advised him to buy a good easel and go from there and so one day he did just that. The day finally came and the easel arrived. He manoeuvred it into position and paused, now what?

I’m going to need some paint and brushes he thought and so he bought those too. But where to put them? I’m going to need a table to go next to the easel. Before too long the table appeared.

I’m going to need a chair too he thought. A chair was found.

After a while he decided the easel needed waxing and so a few hours later it was indeed waxed, ready to go. Along with the table and the chair.

Slight problem, the carpet below the easel is white, not good for painting. What I need is a rug! And so, before too long, a rug arrived. Ah, now I can paint.

Wait, I need a palette to mix my paint on. Before too long the palette arrived. Now to paint.

Hmm, I don’t have anything to paint on, I need some canvas. The canvas arrives and now to paint!

I need a colour chart to tell me which colours to use where. Colour chart made, it was finally time to paint!

What should I paint? Should I practice formal styles from say a still life? Or should I just paint from my heart, whatever comes out?

I’ll paint whatever comes out. I’m going to start painting whatever comes to me.

I don’t know what to paint.

6fish and Murakami encounter absinthe in Shoreham

And there it goes, the train I’m supposed to be on, happily now jogging along to Brighton. Unfortunately I’m stuck on Shoreham train station now, its late at night and its a half an hour to the next train. Nothing for it but to sit on a seat and wait it out.

I have a secret weapon, Haruki Murakami’s book Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and his Years of Pilgrimage. This book has been by my side during tribal drinking in Suffolk, funicular rides in Hastings, Ig and Ms Moons wedding and stazi grilling at Brighton Museum and Art Gallery (It has an appalling new pay to enter policy except for residents assuming you carry a poll tax bill around with you for fun. Another place struck from my list.) . Now it finds itself on Shoreham train station but still it fits right in. I’m happily reading away when the two young men who have been drinking with a young woman down the end of the platform walk up to my end to point at something on the track they put there days ago. As they turn to go back to the girl the alpha male, boozed up on absinthe (he offers me some, I decline) asks me what the front of my book says. I say Murakami, they have fun trying to pronounce it and then ask what its about? I’ve been in situations like this before and its gonna be tricky to avoid conflict with the alpha male, he’s a little too far gone to reason with, I pause.

I decide to use the plot to Haruki’s book as my weapon of choice. I describe to them that its about a group of friends but that one day four of the friends decide to reject the fifth friend and banish him from the group. The plot appeals to my absinthe drinking friends, they’ve been here before and are familiar with such machinations. Its at this point that the absinthe shows its colour, without any pause or thought the alpha male says ‘he’s a rapist’. My jaw drops, how on earth did he come up with that (a fear grows in my mind, but no point in going there, I can’t do anything about it anyway). The plot does indeed accuse the fifth man of being a rapist and so alpha male is spot on. The beta male is beginning to like the sound of the book and if he’d been alone some work could have been done. But he’s not and there’s an alpha male still to deal with. I continue with the plot but my arrow has struck home and alpha male walks away, disarmed, beta follows. They go back to the girl and their chatter begins.

My train comes in and sitting on it waiting for it to pull out I’m tempted to throw my book out to them. I pause too long and the train whisks me away.

Steppenwolf reads Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and his Years of Pilgrimage by Haruki Murakami whilst tribal drinking at Mo Mo’s, on the Road in Suffolk, doing Hastings and Ig & Ms Moon’s wedding.

2015-09-06 12.53.25
2015-08-29 00.43.11Haruki Murakami should always be read on the road and so it was that I began Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and his Years of Pilgrimage on the train to Suffolk to visit my relatives. I won’t bore you with the full story of that (just some highlights), but every trip to Suffolk begins with a drinking session at Mo Mo’s and this was no exception. What was exceptional was the truly tribal nature of the drinking session. Kudos to all those involved in one of the best Mo Mo nights I have attended. In other Suffolk news, my mum revealed she had never had a cheese and ham sandwich before and also that she had attended the same art school as me in the early 1940’s!

My trip to Suffolk was over before I knew it with only a small part of Colorless read and so my reading continued over the the following weekend. The following Saturday I knew the day would be good as the coffee began to seap into my brain, a flock of geese flew over my train like a native American sign telling me the way was clear. I had seen the geese from far off and was studying them intently because although they were far off they seemed like really big birds (for a moment I thought ‘the eagles are coming’). As they got closer I realised they were geese and my intense viewing of them led to a nice conversation with the lady next to me on the train. She sold me on the virtues of Polegate (its well situated between Lewes and Eastbourne).

On time I walked from the train station to the wedding venue (Hastings Museum and Art Gallery) only getting slightly lost (always the best kind of lost and standard for Murakami adventures). I didn’t ask a cat where to go because an ambulance man kindly obliged and before I knew it I was fully turned around and heading in the right direction.

2015-09-05 11.22.36Despite rumours to the contrary I didn’t read Haruki Murakami during the ceremony and duly paid attention to the cute speeches, poems and other guff people spout at weddings, yadda yadda yadda. I took photos to prove I had been there and would have shed a tear if I’d had a spare one. I realised that my life had a new classification I was not aware of, ‘people who come from Brighton’ and a motley crew we were. Frightened by the locals we huddled together for defensive purposes at various stages in the day. A brief note for the gentleman who played clown for the photographs, you’ve got talent and a touch more makeup and you could join a circus. How to get out of Hastings Museum and Art Gallery was pretty tricky (a magic button on the wall opens a door inwards for unsuspecting steppenwolves, not paying attention), its seems once you’re in they’re not that keen to let you go, I won’t hold that against them.

2015-09-05 12.51.402015-09-05 12.42.542015-09-05 12.08.26

Whilst no one was looking I legged it to the sea front and before I knew it was standing at the end of the pier looking at all the work being done. This seemed like a good time to have a beer and so over the road to The White Rock Hotel. Some good and one bad experience here. The bar maid short changed me (a personal no no for me, always mentioned in reviews), when she gave me the pound she’d short changed me she took it from the staff tips tin where she had put it in the first place! Bit of a give away (management note). On the good side she had been trained to pour a pint of Guinness and that is always appreciated and the Hotel has a nice veranda to sit on and watch the sea and the world go by while you read Haruki. The old man with the dog with the highest collar in the world was a highlight and brought a smile to my face.

2015-09-05 13.46.382015-09-05 13.04.43Walking along the sea front I passed the crazy man shouting gobbledygook and having offered this service to Ig the previous day saw what was perhaps my future. The man walking in the opposite direction who said “at least he hasn’t got a care in the world” was right and I replied “its not a bad place to be”. I also passed the intriguing St Mary in the Castle building but did not have time to explore (another time). Then passed the fishing boats before reaching Jerwood gallery.

2015-09-05 14.23.33Having reached my next goal, Jerwood gallery, I bought a ticket, £8, its a little too expensive guys and is the reason people are passing by. Nasty moment when I was asked for my postcode and replied by reflex. Why you needed it should have been clearly stated and someone over there should read the data protection act more carefully. Nasty marketing moment to start my visit, stop doing it. Having been directed to the Lowry exhibition I couldn’t find it and ended up back at reception again before someone managed to explain two dark rooms that looked like storage areas were the exhibition. Some signs would have been useful.

Lowry by the sea at Jerwood gallery drew mixed emotions, first the lighting of the exhibition is so dark you can’t actually see the paintings. I know it’s for their own good but if you can’t see the work it’s kinda pointless displaying it. That said the work itself conveyed the loneliness from which he painted it and his skill as an artist is and always has been, underestimated.

There are one or two nice pieces from the collection on display, in particular a nice Maggi Hambling. I took a break in the nice cafe and shared an Apple Juice with a friendly wasp ( he didn’t like being photographed however so I obeyed his wishes) whilst reading Haruki Murakami and being spied upon (you know who you are). Downstairs had some further nice pieces from the collection and if I’d paid £5 to get in I’d have felt I got my moneys worth. Slightly disappointed there was only one Lowry postcard to buy as I had connected with three or four of the paintings and would have liked a postcard to take away. Someone from The Jerwood should visit The De La Warr to learn how to do this kind of gallery. In particular it needs to be free to get to the cafe.

2015-09-05 14.29.202015-09-05 14.30.232015-09-05 14.21.53I walked a little further to see the iconic fishing huts before boarding the East Hill Cliff funicular railway. I’ve never ridden on one and since Hastings has two this seemed like the time to dip my toe in the water. The two funicular railways in Hastings are very different with one having a great view and the other climbing into darkness immediately. The East Hill one is the one with the view and as a bonus provided a view at the top, of the back of Ig and Ms Moons house. For this reason I recommend riding it even if you don’t want the nice walk available at the top.

2015-09-05 14.54.352015-09-05 14.47.56Back down to sea level and its time to start walking to the reception. With some clever navigation I find George Street straight away and pass Hastings Arms where Ig and Andrea first met (seems appropriate). At the other end is the West Hill Cliffe funicular railway, I recommend going up with children aboard as they appreciate the darkness much more than adults. A quick photo of the East Hill and its off to the wedding reception. Another quick picture of the front of the house and I’ve photographed it from both sides!

2015-09-05 18.38.212015-09-05 17.43.00I was forced to sign a wall before being given some Pimms and it looks like I might have to read the data protection act to the Grants/Moons. My complements to the Brighton motley crew who entertained with humour and laughter. There was a moment where it looked like things might turn nasty and certainly some who shall remain nameless did start hoarding cutlery. But the fish and chips showed up just in time and very quickly people were sated. I just caught a glimpse of the cake cutting and after much laughter and chat it was soon time to go home. The train gods were with us and we just made the quick one. We were soon safely back in Brightons arms, unscathed by our sojourn to Hastings.

Meanwhile the grass continues to grow.