Ullapool Art Advenure

Gra ffiti Artist or The Object and the Memory                                         Day four week one was unusual but totally fascinating and not unlike the art of psychometry. We had an A3 piece of heavy paper which we tore into pieces and re-assembled on a board, gluing it down so that was a new shape, and painted on a texturising medium. While that dried we were invited to choose from a wide range of random objects such as a piece of twisted rope, an old enamel mug with a rusty hole in the bottom, old kettles, exotic seedpods and farming implements. Having identified our object we spent the next hour in silence getting to know it. We had to describe it as though to a blind person: the heft, the material, the purpose, the texture. Then we were asked to extend our writing to the story behind the object. Who owned it? Why? When? For how long? Before I knew what w...

Wet, Wetter and Soaked to the Skin I have been here for three days now and it has rained every day. Not just gentle drizzle but the sort of rain that soaks you to the skin and fogs up your glasses so badly you would not even notice if you had carelessly wandered up inside a Scot's kilt.  Obviously being a soft southerner who scoffed when be-moaners, fed up with talking about Brexit, took pleasure in declaring that "it always rains in the Western Highlands" - I thought they were exaggerating. They weren't.  My clothes and footwear are unsuitable for this climate and on  Saturday when I get the afternoon  off I will have to travel the 110 miles to Inverness and back to remedy the situation.  Suffice to say my carefully selected wardrobe is not right either but thanks to the generosity of Petrina Mason at Now Training I have a black boiler suit. Those of you family and friends who know me well,  are aware that black is the very last colour ...

And So it Begins.... Do you remember how exciting  it was when you started school for the first time? And then the first day at secondary school when you knew more about the potential for success, failure, bullies and school dinners? As my beloved family were quick to point out, I have not been in a situation where my work will be constructively criticised for years so today was probably as scary as my first day in secondary school. Will I like the tutors? Will they like me? Will I get on with the other students?  Will my 30 hours of pre-course work be good enough?  How experienced will the others be? Will my alarm go off in time? It wasn’t my alarm that woke me, it was the Stornaway ferry.  I can both see and hear it from my bedroom window. For some reason it seemed to be going round in circles at 7.30am. The studios where we are tutored are not huge hence the School only takes twelv...

it's Never Too Late It may be forty years ago that I had thought of going to art school but it's never too late! In January 2016 my mother died aged 97 and after having had her ashes in a box under my dining room table for five months because none of my five siblings could decide what to do with them, I had an idea. I would take them on a road trip in Gloria my little Ford KA streetcar. I would take her and scatter her ashes in beautiful places around the  entire coast of Great Britain and try to do it in 80 days. I did the trip starting on May 1st 2016 going from my home in Eastbourne and along the south coast towards the East coast of England. I blogged the journey as I scattered my mum's ashes in places important to her as well as looking for the most beautiful places on the edge of this island of ours. I named  the blog: ontheedgearoundthecoast. While I was on the West Coast of Scotland I stayed in Ullapool in an Airbnb house where the owner had some wonderful art ...