Welcome to the Gallery

Imagine is set in the Suffolk village of Long Melford.
This is an attempt to record the daily trials, tribulation and pleasure of running an art gallery.

Saturday 30 October 2010

"Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind".

Was a quote I read earlier today, and as a result I thought that I would say what I felt.
But on consideration decided [unusual for me] that this wasn't a good thing.
So instead I am showing just a tip of an ice cube.

Back in time.

When I had a proper job that paid "real" money I was rarely at home
[not a lot of changes there]
and had very little sleep.
For the last 10 years of employment I worked a night shift in London, which was never very easy considering that we have always lived in the remote countryside.
Most days I would arrive home at about 10.am, after breakfast [dinner] I would get to bed at
about 11.am and would have my alarm set for 2.30pm as I had to be on a train back to London
at 4.45 pm.
This didn't result in having much of a family life, or in fact any life, but it paid the bills.

Now, in the present.
I find my sleeping patterns are very in tune with nature, although they are still odd.
I awake with the sunlight whatever time of the year, or more to the point I arise with the sunlight, which at this time of the year is late but I find it hard to stir from bed until the light
comes through the window.
This doesn't mean I sleep all night, far from it.
After the first two hours or so of snoring my head off my body clock returns to its old pattern,
I am awake.
Awake at night, with nothing to dwell upon but the gallery.
And so it was last night.

It is good and bad, many problems are resolved in my mind which is good, but worse all the
things that trouble me are analysed, which is also good but doesn't lead to a sense of well being.
I think about various artists, and the way they have enriched or worsened my life.
As I mentioned the other day, I understand fully now that they are "just" people.
Some who enrich my life and others who have the capability to cause a lot of unhappiness.
These are the people I think about during the dark hours.
It is the quote by Dr Seuss that refers to those people.

I had intended to illustrate a series of incidents for you to judge, but on consideration that is unfair as it is just my own take on various events.
So, instead I will just say that it is a small hardcore of nice people [who are artists] that make
this change of life worthwhile. It certainly isn't the money, or even increased sleep
[although the pattern has changed].
It is down to people like the painter Jacki Morris [who tells people to "get lost" when they approach her privately about something we are selling], and sculptors Karen and Colin who send work whenever we need it [even when it means holding up large orders], and Nichola Theakston ["because she feels we are worth supporting"], potters like Stephen Parry and Anja Lubach who have been with us from the early days. Emma Rodgers, who is sought after by every major gallery, but who always thanks me for taking her sculptures.
It is people like these and many others whose work makes my heart sing and enrich my days and it is just the "few" that keep me awake at nights.

I have been urged many times "not to voice my thoughts, just say good things" on the blog.
But this is not an advertisement, it is a small diary of my [unusual] life.

But above is an advertisement, both for me and two of my friends.
There are a few of the beautiful yet slightly disturbing pots by Anja followed by one of Karen's latest creations, well part of it.
The whole consists of five babies and the Mother complete with mouse in beak.
She left it for me to display. But I can't.

Artists! What are they like?


  1. And you functioned for years on 3 hours' sleep a day? How?

    What keeps you lying awake is called "ruminating" -- Instead of dwelling on things that have upset you, try diverting your mind into more pleasant channels -- try to visualize yourself doing some pleasant and enjoyable activity such as walking through beautiful countryside.

    It may be your snoring that is waking you up. You might want to seek medical advice to see if you have something called "obstructive sleep apnea" (most snorers do). However, this can be easily and nonsurgically remedied if you do. That's Dr. WOL's recommendation -- lol!

    I bet you want to keep Karen's owls for yourself. Go on, admit it!

  2. I think we all have those moments, Douglas Adams summed it up
    The long dark teatime of the soul!

    I hope that you are able to meditate on the good things to chase away the spectres of the bad ones.

    Love the owls, not so sure about the others, reminded me of being pregnant and the phantom hand or foot that used to press itself against my abdomen.

  3. I love the owls too and am wondering why you said you can't display the mom? I bet it's just fine & wonderful! I mean, unless it's to keep the copyright issue at bay or something; I find a Mother owl w/food a LOT less disturbing that the faces in the body :).

    I loved reading your thoughts. Thank you for sharing!

  4. The reason I couldn't display the Owls is because they need something special to be placed upon. I usually have them on old pieces of wood or fence posts, but this family [six in total] all need to interact. The babies
    are all looking expectantly, and somehow I have to have the mother with
    [mouse in beak] in a position as if she has just returned to feed them.
    So, I have got to find a large interesting piece of wood that they can all sit on as a group.
    If I had the time it would be something that I would enjoy spending a day doing but at the moment time is in short supply.

    I'm sorry for giving a peak into my thoughts, I shouldn't do it.

    By the way WOL, I used to get another 4 hours sleep a day on the train, I think if I hadn't I wouldn't be here now.
    What is worse to remember is that I know that I snored on the train.

    It is strange that you mention "the phantom hand or foot", in respect to the pots Charlotte.
    It is this that fascinates me, I can imagine these beings trying to escape from their containers so that they can live.
    But unlike a baby they are trapped forever, I think.