Experiments and daily fail

Another day, another set of experiments and another day of unresolved issues. Of course, in my head, I’ve resolved all the problems in half a dozen different ways. 

Running out of time now for the end of the week, I attempted to trial all solutions on the same experimental panel. 

Foolish foolish. 

So many different variants of spray v brush, gilding v spray, opaque v transparent paint and now I have a work of confusion with myriad small passages of potential value but no coherent answer. The actual pieces with the detail done but otherwise empty remain propped up against the walls of my studio, glaring at me in their white glossy vastness and it’s really tempting to just throw something at them. 

But I’m not going to do that just yet. The answer lies somewhere in the experiments. I’ve taken loads of photos, I’m now away for a day and a half, and between now and Wednesday with distance (quite literally) a plan will be formulated all ready for me to forget as soon as I enter the studio again. 

Left Bank Residency: Kanzleraltar 


All done. 

I arrived on installation day prepared to hang with the gilded panels facing out if, having torn off all the protective polythene, I couldn’t live with seeing the results. But once the first panel was up with the help of one scaffold and the efforts of four bodies, I thought it was all okay. 

The ambient light has a transformative effect with endless reflections and gold shimmers. The only way for me to experience it is by moving side to side, around, in closer, out, from low down and from within.

The interior space has a different atmosphere entirely; ethereal, opaque, mysterious. 


interior view

An amazing ten days.  

Post-match train travel

You never know what little event in life will prompt a post after months of, er, nothing. I’ve had lots of thoughts about lots of stuff of course, but the time and effort demanded for blogging on more serious happenings is these days a bit overwhelming.

But this evening I find myself on a train heading north on which all alcohol has been banned. I know this for a fact because I’ve had two emails in as many days telling me that no alcohol would be permitted, and I wouldn’t be allowed to board if I was drunk. So there.

I duly boarded stone-cold sober and found a seat in the quiet carriage. Minutes later three loud inebriated males (how had they passed security?) sat at “my” table and one promptly farted. I debated for a split second staying put and pretending to ignore it out of politeness, and before I could rationally process a decision, a life-preserving instinct hurriedly got me up. I announced the table was all theirs, and found somewhere else to sit well out of reach of the putrid atmosphere.

Many minutes of high jinks and laughter followed and then they started scuffling with phones. One asked a lady across the aisle if she had a charger? She shook her hand and said no. Her five year old quickly piped up to correct her. “Yes you have, Mummy!” Mummy scowled, handed it over, and mumbled that she was getting off in twenty minutes.

Next, a serious of terrifying announcements about alcohol, abuse, inebriation, bag searches and penalties. We are reassured that the train is full of police who will be prowling the length of the train the entire journey, checking out drunken revellers and maintaining order. It seems they are equipped with inbuilt video recorders, and they will not be hesitating to capture us all on camera.

Goodness me. Just a Saturday night returning North on the east coast line after a sporting event. But I’m pleased to announce they now seem to all be falling asleep. Bless. 


The Year 1483

    I’m easily seduced by ancient objects. The appearance is pretty much irrelevant; what counts is just extraordinary age.

Yesterday I found myself holding a book printed in 1483. Written by John Mandeville, an abbot, it’s a fantastical travelogue bearing about as much relationship to reality of any sort as you might expect from a monk who allegedly had never left the confines of his monastery to go visit the places he was describing. 

No matter. Gazing at the pristine pages of the oldest book in the collection of the legendary Leeds Library I felt strangely moved. Oddly and coincidentally, it’s entitled Travels in The Holy Land: the title of my most recent body of artwork. 
After 1483, we moved to 1586 and a pre-King James bible. Equally fascinating with its how-to-use-this-book guide, and Talmudic style commentary enfolding the main text (see below).

An unashamed bit of advertising: if you live in or around Leeds and love books, you can’t afford to not join this amazing library.




Moderates Unite


Life has a funny way of moving forward. It’s been six months since I posted: me, a regular and committed blogger for over four years.

In the summer of 2014, I was left with a sense of unease about society and my place within. I felt unable to identify with so much I was reading and hearing. I identified a sense of overwhelm and hopelessness. I could not sort through my feelings in any way that might make sense. I recognised as many people do that I had more in common with moderates and freethinkers from any cultural or religious background than I necessarily had with people from my own culture or religion. I ended my post with the question of how do you protest nuance?

Now I realise the question was: when will the silent majority united by tolerance for difference of opinion and an overriding love for our common humanity take to the streets?

The follow up and answer to my last post is today. A million people taking to the streets in Paris, including 40 world leaders, including the Palestinian president and the Israeli prime minister.

It’s surreal. I’m sitting watching the scenes on the Place de la République in Paris with awe and not a little envy.

THIS is a march I would have gone on. THIS is the voice of humanity. The voice of tolerance and freedom is unambiguous, and there is no place for nuance here.

Liberté, égalité, fraternité.

Let it always prevail.

Where do I stand with “Pro/tests”?

20140727-140845-50925285.jpgProtesting on behalf of innocents in Leeds 26 July 2014

It’s been a week of invitations: invitations to join protest marches on pro-Gaza, pro-Israel, pro-peace and anti-terror.

I’ve realised it’s a reflection of my attempts over the last few years to understand the perspective of both sides and to inform myself as much as possible about what goes on in the Middle East. So, my inbox sees a variety of newsletters and accordingly a variety of invitations. They are from organisations genuinely trying to provide balanced information, so it’s interesting that these invites to protest made me a little uncomfortable.

After some reflection, I decided it’s because a protest march does not permit nuance. The slogans and chants are simple and clear. Pro-this, anti-that. Everything reduced to black and white which sometimes doesn’t matter, but not in this case. Not in an area of multiple, even infinite, shades and textures of perspective and narrative.

Some things I find are easy to state unequivocally. Thus, Israel has a right to exist. Palestinians have a right to self-govern and flourish free from occupation. Terrorism against innocent civilians is wrong. People have a right to defend themselves.

BUT (and it’s a huge BUT) if you tip all these rights in a pot and mix with reality and history and emotion and politics, nothing is simple any more.

The only slogans I feel comfortable with these days are those expressly showing compassion for both sides, because there are innocents on both sides and ill-considered actions and immoral actions on both sides (and indeed by many other nations world-wide at all stages in history, including the UK). A good example of the sort of thing I read with relief is the Facebook site Jews and Arabs Refuse To Be Enemies which is a treasure trove of inspiring photos evidencing clear humanity.

Marching “pro Israel” (however much I believe in Israel’s right to exist and defend itself) and marching “pro Gaza” (however much I feel torn up with horror at what is happening to civilians) is not something I feel helps anyone. It polarises and reinforces the whole wretched partisan taking-sides aspect that makes me so uncomfortable. Forceful declarations of pro-whatever carry an implication of being anti-the other, whether or not this is the case, and so I can’t do it.

And yet, there is a troubling undercurrent too in terms of current pro-Gaza sentiment.

Yesterday in Leeds city centre there was a powerful pro-Gaza art installation protest in the middle of Briggate. A representation of dead civilians lying across the pavement with a comment encouraging passers by to carry on walking past because these people don’t count for anything. (I may not have remembered this exactly but that was the general thrust)

I suddenly felt very, very uneasy. I suddenly remembered (again) all the deaths of recent months in Syria and Iraq. And the Christians of Mosul in Iraq being given the choice of paying a tax, converting to Islam, or being beheaded.

I stood looking at the protesters and wondered suddenly: Where are the impassioned art installation protests about these other issues? Where are the marches about Syria and Iraq? What is it about Israel-Palestine that prompts such particular passion? I’m scared to take this line of thought any further.

With the Leeds protest, I approached the young veiled girls who were part of the group. I said I was struck by the power of their installation and understood their compassion and feeling for the victims. They eagerly listened to me and nodded. We talked some more. I asked them whether they were thinking about extending this protest to the thousands of other victims of 2014 in the Middle East, for example in Iraq and Syria?

They slowly nodded. Why not indeed? I said I thought it was interesting and understandable their focus was Gaza this week, but there was so much more that needed saying. Then I finally told them I was Jewish. They were fascinated and said they welcomed my response; because they said “everyone blames and assumes Jews don’t care” about what’s going on in Gaza, and they seemed genuinely surprised (and appreciative) to hear a slightly different, more nuanced response to their protest .

I’d like to think I made them see the difference between the Israeli state and Jews in general, and that Jews do not lack compassion for the innocent victims in this conflict. I hope they might possibly now see current terror in the Middle East in wider, more complex terms. And for the record, I genuinely didn’t feel they were anti-Semitic despite the throwaway comment about Jews.

However, the big question still remains: how do you protest in nuanced terms?


Heaven on earth

20140717-092217-33737041.jpgMoraine Lake, Banff National Park

20140717-092753-34073678.jpgSection of Moraine Lake colour checked at the site to verify the exact shade of turquoise at 10 am that morning

20140717-093017-34217318.jpgView from Moraine Lake Lodge
Words insufficient.

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