Musical experiments and conclusion

Banjo, drum kit - both electronic and 'real', electric and acoustic guitar, bass guitar, piano, keyboards, violin, mandolin, mini-synthesisers made out of recycled electronic components...vibraphone (might have happened if it hadn't been a rather too expensive musical experiment). All virtually self-taught to an impressively high level. For his very first instrument, the banjo, we signed him up for some online tuition from The Bluegrass Academy in Louisiana.

Our son's musical pursuits have always been fascinating, but the guitar has been the phase that has extended into permanency. Personally I was very sad when the violin ceased to be played but I understood the constraints - the need for a good teacher which was not possible at the time, the fact that he had started rather late, at twenty-five rather than five, and trying to find a local Irish band to join in rural France wasn't happening.  

The guitar is always there, a quick tune, or not even and it's ready to go; perfect for composing, accompanying songs, or just noodling away on at a gathering or in the bedroom, compact, portable, and versatile.

When I met him yesterday there was talk of visiting the local guitar shop as he has been idly viewing a certain Gretsch model and was curious to see if it was in stock. I'm always up for a music shop trip so we went. It wasn't in stock but there was a very handsome and almost flashy orange and gold Gretsch which was not quite the one he wanted - possibly luckily as just under a thousand euros would have required some very serious justification . . . mind there's a fair amount of music related unused stuff that could be sold waiting in the garage or his old room should it become a reality.

I sat and watch him play with that parental joy that can only come from watching the fruition of a rather remarkable musical talent born of all the previous experimentation and development over the years. 

I suspect he'll be ringing for a chat fairly soon about whether it should be the orange one, the blue or the olive green . . .

The orange Gretch

Several years ago in his Bordeaux student digs with the old Epiphone that I found in a house clearance
 

A glimpse of island life

I have been spoilt this year - at least four trips to the sea, each time short visits but all the more memorable for that.

I'd tried to book an interesting looking cabin in someone's garden on the île-d'Arz a couple of months back but being full on holiday season it was unavailable. Beginning of September, la rentrée has happened and suddenly everything quietens down dramatically. This particular island has around two hundred and fifty permanent residents but on an average high season day the number can rise to anything around two thousand - non residents plus the permanent folk - unless they've had the foresight to let their place and escape somewhere else. 

Rucksack packed and dog in tow we arrived on the foot passenger ferry (no cars for visitors) half way through the afternoon and walked to our rustic lodgement situated in a small village a couple of km from the main 'bourg'. 

Old veg brought from home made into a fry up, following exploration walk, a drink in the local very  interesting bar/epicerie, and we were ready to sleep.

The following morning started with my sea-swimming obsession. No one about and a large curving beach to ourselves. The tide was a fair way out so walking on a soft sand carpet was part of the swim; water lovely temperature and sun rise through the pine trees bordering the coast. Perfect. A top five swim of this year.

Mark's first sea dip of the year

The day passed in bike rides, more exploratory walks, investigation of the main town (big village) and its very beautiful and incredibly ancient church (C12th); naps, excellent lunchtime crêpes, an equally excellent fish dinner in the embarkment point hotel - L'escale - with its bay views.

It was a small glimpse into island life, and I have many questions to ask a local next time about how you might get a new mattress/furniture generally/breeze blocks/gas bottles/ anything really thats more tricky to carry than a couple of carrier bags of purchases. There's only one small shop too, and I couldn't see much signs of food being grown there, so the passenger ferry and larger ferry for the vans and cars that we did see are obviously total life lines all year round.

There were unused wells dotted about all over the island from days when water didn't appear from a pipe line from the mainland - I did look this up as I couldn't imagine there was a huge aquifer under the island - did I get grade E in A level geography . . . yes.

Also, incredibly! there was no boulangerie on the island . . . a bit sad as I learned from a museum visit that each hamlet had its own bread oven, wheat was grown and there was tide-powered water mill - now reconstructed but not used. Perhaps this will change in the future, the mill wheel once again turning, bread ovens constructed. 

The old tidal mill

There are several other islands in the Golfe de Morbihan, including the largish île-aux-Moines 

(monks), and small ones, some inhabited, others not. Future trip . . . I hope so.

                                                        Dog, less keen on ferry than me

                                                         camera on panorama mode on a boat

C'est pas mon truc . . .

It's not my thing.

One of the more 'bof' - Gallic shrug - reactions to my exposition of paintings. I also had a comment yesterday that they should be more colourful. This is odd as most people have walked in and started back at the colourfulness of everything. Maybe it was time to get an eye test? or perhaps he shared the vision of the average dog - a rather grey spectrum according to the last research I read about this subject.

                                                              two not very colourful paintings

The vernissage (private view) went very well; lots of people, masterly improv music from Mark and Jérôme, wine from NOZ - I have blogged about Noz before - bizarre shop full of everything from dog chews to pants to baked beans to . . . wine, and often amazingly good wine; and since all my work is about recycling materials it seemed fitting to buy abandoned wine. And I sold enough paintings to make the whole event worthwhile. 

                                 Another fairly colourless painting underway in the gallery

Jérôme and Mark

So, two more days of sitting in that marvellous space wondering if the next person will be non-plussed or delighted by the work. I've had some fascinating visitors and some in depth conversations about environmental issues, recycled everything, my personal art process, and many questions about how long a painting takes - always challenging to answer.

I'd like to say thanks here to several people who made the event happen and happen in such a great way.

Mark - my partner in life and art, and jointly useless person at selling anything. He's been brilliant in all ways, and without him I certainly wouldn't have the art book we made before the expo.

Pierre, Hazel and Louise who were so generous with their time, and muscles, moving quantities of furniture and paintings into the space. we couldn't have done it without you!

And thanks to the Mairie of Saumur for letting us use this beautiful old chapel. What a space!

In case

                   You happen to be in or near Saumur during the next few days...

 

Essential viewing/listening

I think this is one of Nate's finest.

Please listen to this calm and helpful analysis of where we are now at this complicated time, and what we can all do moving forward, even if the steps are small. Please share too.

Summer holiday

With the lad, and the dog . . . the whole pack back together for a few days. Wonderful.

As the weather had been stifling - as in most places - I had sought out somewhere coastal, but as it was rather a late investigation, and we had the mutt too there wasn't much choice. But, as things often turn out if you go with the available option and hope for the best, we ended up in an utterly non-touristy and very interesting - to us anyway - spot on the Loire sea estuary. I'd noticed the name before when studying a map of the region - Paimboeuf, something-beef, weird but playful, quickly becoming known, within the family unit, as Bread-Beef. 

The town website shows the clutch of colourful harbour houses but fails to show the full splendour of the petrol refineries of 'Donges' on the opposite river banks; a surreal collection shapes and chimneys that could grace a sci-fi film storyboard. 

We immediately loved the place: the faded grandeur of the more once-prestigious residences, the abandoned and semi-derelict other buildings; the calm, no nicknacks, the history to soak up. Paimboeuf was saved from the war bombs as far as I could see but the residents would have witnessed the mass bombardments on St Nazaire just beyond Donges. Now you can just make out the vast cruise ships being manufactured in the city's docks and the elegant suspension bridge linking the land on both sides of the Loire's sea-arrival.

Sadly, long-gone station - closed in the 90s

Our lodgement was characterful and comfortable; the dog didn't eat the host's cats, and the house was perfectly placed in a quiet street (although I'd imagine, everything is fairly quiet there) very near the quayside - a short walk in the cooler morning to the boulangerie, or a beer at the quirky and marvellous 'café de la Loire' at sundown to admire the distant refineries under the evening's last rays. 

                                      Café de la Loire where we did a little improv concert

Two days of exploring, swimming (not in the estuary, although I might have tried if everyone else hadn't said that it was a stupid idea) - at the nearest beaches, sitting around reading, sketching, cooking, enjoying a little local cuisine and admiring Christian Champin's wry humoured and brilliant sculptures which were displayed on the quays.

As ever, these precious short term jaunts seem to morph into longer time expanses, packed with experiences to be recalled and savoured. Think we'll be going back to Bread-Beef, possibly to experience the out-of-season version as well.

                                                                  V tired but happy dog

Childhood brain imprints

I have hundreds: the kitchen of our Muswell Hill flat and its old green enamel gas stove, the purple bathroom walls, the interior of the local greengrocer's, the walk to school; garden marigolds and hollyhocks, Mum's ancient piano covered with piles of music, her hoards of newspapers and books, amongst which were her small volumes of Gerard Hoffnung's wonderful musical cartoons.

   

 

I must have thumbed through these hundreds of time, my gaze resting on a few of my very favourites, such as the ones above. I was always drawing but mainly animals, objects and fantastical creations, but I think the essence of Hoffnung must have sunk in as in more recent years I've started sketching people, not very accurately but rapidly, trying to catch within a few lines a character, a facial expression, crossed legs, hunched or attentively upright. 

Often the drawings don't really capture what I am witnessing but occasionally they do. I was pleased with this one of three musician friends in Mark's gamelan group. It was only about a minute and a half but I think it borrowed that moment in time - their distinctive respective hair cuts - or not - beards; the bell like musical sounds, and the intense heat of that afternoon under shady trees in the garden of the Max Ernst museum a few kilometres from where we live.