Day Seven Art Challenge Alan Snape Potter

..and so we reach Day Seven of The Art Challenge for the potter...Alan Snape...

At the closing exhibition of his time studying art at St Martins Lancaster...every piece of work apart from two which we still have...sold! 

At that time Alan was working in wood, metal and ceramic. He was creating wall pieces with burnt wood and metal or clay..... big powerful pieces of art.

 I was always sorry that teaching at Penketh High...stopped all that influence. Too much else to think about...apart from family growingup etc!! 

So the commission for a wall mounted work to be placed in the foyer of the Oaks Centre  in Penketh was welcomed. 

The piece is composed of oak beams burnt in the bonfire, down the field, until charred to his satisfaction. Then formed into various sized crosses and three pure white ceramic balls placed within the sculpture.

If you ask him what it means you will receive a gentle shrug and...

 "what do you think?"

I'm adding this early pic of Alan's car....the beloved Nelly...car...circa 1967...in Rochdale with a friend from St. Martin's College Lancaster, the lovely sister @Rosiemcclellandart and yours truly...how glamorous, how young, how innocent we were!

I kept slim by pushing Nelly to start her most days!!

 

Art challenge...Day Six...Jonah in the Boat Asleep.

Day Six of the potters art challenge.

Many of the series Alan has produced have been based on well known Bible Stories. 

This is from the story of Jonah who disobeyed instructions...and ended up inside a BIG fish!....he eventually obeyed ...though still wasn't very happy...read it for yourself!

In this piece from the series Jonah is asleep in the boat...just before they throw him off to the fish!!!! Typical of the potter's sense of humour.

A Poem for Thursday....

I was asked by @neviepiecakes aka Natasha Collins...lovely daughter..if I would post some pics for seven days from the different series that I've taken on camera. Thankyou Natasha.
This photo is one of three from a travel series. It now belongs to a great friend. I'm sure that there are references in this pic from wonderful international photographers...and so I give them thanks for their blogs and hope that I may have learnt from them and their skills.

I often think poetry when I take pics...and this little poem is very apt for the feelings often there when on a long journey...and you are really nowhere!

To Travel

To travel is to be nowhere.

You’re not here

And you’re not there.

So,

If you get the wrong train to somewhere,

Or you get off at

The wrong station for somewhere,

Does that mean

That you have completely disappeared?

And when the train gets to somewhere

Will they find that you are nowhere.

And how will you get back from there?

I'll post the other two in the series for you. 

 The start of the journey

All change at Euston

Discovering John Blakemore...photographer.

I've discovered the work of the photographer...John Blakemore...yes I know ...rather late in his life...but sooner late than never.

So I'm inspired by his work to try to push my own photography on a bit.

His work on tulips started me off as a pot in the living room was almost dead and yet still reaching out for the light....I did what "they" recommend...took loads and loads of the same thing but each one slightly different and that assessed them before editing.

 ...at the same time I had an article about Steichen and his iconic photo of Gloria Swanson around ...reading it from time to time in between other things...and so I tried the black net over the lens to capture a distance in the pics....
...fun and maybe a bit of success and a moving on in what I am trying to achieve.

Time at the Bay.

We had a few days up at the house on the Bay this week.

The sky was a piercing blue and the water... still and quiet.

Lots of folk were out taking pics of the boats

... in the little harbour.

 

The hills in the distance matched the blue of the sky

and the primary colours of the fishing boats...with the reflections in the water...well...

...it couldn't have been more perfect.

Along the coast by the Red Bank farm...

...sea birds were gathering to fly off for the winter.

Then within 24 hours...

...all  changed...

 

The sky was grey and overcast and the sea competing with it for greyness.

A little egret searches for food on the rich sandy mud of the edge while it's partner has just flown off into the middle of the sands.

 

The autumn tide came right up to the edge of the  promenade 

...while the sky was threatening. 

But we snuggled up in the Palatine Pub with hot steak sandwiches and listened to the rain beating down ...outside the  windows!

Then ...back to the house ...running through the gusts of rain...

and feet up in the warmth of the old leather armchairs.

Beloved Poem

Davina Murphy-Gibb

The Crop Of Stones

Were they the ruins of some forgotten monastery

laid to it's rest by Henry's henchmen

or the remains of Druidic calendar

and temple of rites?

No, they are the sacred symbols

of inhuman labour

expended to create arable lands.

The toil of a grandfather's tribe,

A crop of stones dug up with broken spade.

Raked out with iron hoes,

Clawed over with blistered hands.

A man's blood leaking sacrificial homage

to unseen gods.

For in Mayo

the first three crops are stones.

Her fertility hidden under barren veils of

Pebbles

that fit in the palm

Rocks

the size of fists and

Boulders

to break the back.

Layer upon layer.

a penance undergone for a rich man's wealth,

a poor man's pride.

Gone are the portals of history

that upheld crumbling alters,

mere rubble now of abandoned ages.

A crop of stones.

The first harvest will be corn

and the second barley

the third may be rye

but the fruits of a man's patience will be tried,

for in Mayo

The first three crops are stones.

photo taken in the far west of Ireland.