Spring forward, fall back

The clocks went forward this morning, so it is officially - erm - British summertime, though the idea of summer still seems an incredibly long way off at this point. Lets be content to call it spring shall we? Though the weather can't seem to make up its mind about that either. Anyway, point is, it only feels like a few weeks ago that the clocks went back! This year is just zapping by in a blur of Ceramics Galleries work, without me really having the time to pay attention.

A springy picture to bring a smile to your face - daffodils are probably my favourite flowers, seen blooming brightly and happily away here in our lovely Sargadelos vase...

The last few weeks we have been piling stress on to the madness by moving judderingly yet unerringly forward with the business of getting a mortgage and buying a flat. Yikes. This is something that we have been talking about and nudging our way towards for a couple of years now - ever since K's parents kindly offered to give us the money we needed for a deposit, which was the only conceivable way we would ever be able to afford to do this - but our finances were in such a state that we needed to spend quite a long time sorting them out. It was hearing the phrase "to be brutally honest..." coming out of the mouth of the mortgage advisor some friends had put us in contact with.

Anyway, the long and short of it is, thanks to K's inheritance from his grandfather, we have just this week paid off the huge loan that we took out to pay off all our debts in one fell swoop - which actually means that for the first time in about 10 years, we are debt free. I know I should be whooping for joy about this, but I guess it hasn't really sunk in properly yet, probably because it is just a stepping stone on the way to being in more debt than either of us have possibly imagined... The sudden incentive to get things sorted out is because we have seen a flat in our block that some neighbours are selling and have decided to just go for it. We're going to try to buy it from them privately, so once we get the mortgage application in - hopefully in the next couple of weeks - we'll be at the delicate negotiating stage. So it might not work out, but we're going to try to do whatever we can to ensure it will!! Exciting - but also frankly terrifying.

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At the same time, I have been nominated for a promotion at work. Which I was very chuffed about - until the full reality of the bureaucratic process that this entails struck me. I have to go through something ominous-sounding called the Curatorial Review Board, which means putting together copies of all my publications (actually rather a lot - mostly done in my own time!) for consideration by the Board - this I have to do by Wednesday; a "portfolio", which I have a bit more time to think about (end April); and then an interview in front of a panel of 4, including an external assessor (end May). I know colleagues who have been through this process, and it is not much fun apparently. You pretty much have to sell yourself, which I am not much good at. Plus there isn't space in my brain to think about all this at the moment. But I am hoping a bit of relief comes in April from the full-on workload - most of my ceramics displays will have been installed by then - and I can start to gear myself up for it. I bloody well deserve a promotion after all!!

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A nice thing that's happened - I got a place on that Summer School in Tunisia that I applied for, so I will be going there for 10 days in mid-May. I knew that part of it was giving presentations, but I understood that these were on topics that you already knew something about or were in the process of researching. As it turns out, I have been selected to present on the "minor arts" - a phrase I absolutely hate, since it implies the primacy of painting as the most important art form - plus I don't really know what it means. Basically, it looks like I have to talk knowledgeably about the objects on display in museums I have never been to. We are supposed to do preparation for this - they have sent me some references to articles - but this is time and work I have not anticipated doing! The others on the course all seem to be academics in research institutions, who may have time on their hands to read articles - but some of us have crazy busy working lives! Still, I am very much looking forward to the trip - I think it's going to be amazing! I have to start making travel plans soon...

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Another nice thing that's happened - my sister has finally found herself a permanent job in North Uist!! This is not an easy thing to achieve, because the jobs are few and far between to being with, and mostly seasonal. But she has persevered, and just this week landed a job at the Hebridean Smokehouse - hurrah! She worked there over their crazy pre-Christmas period and said it was a bit of a nightmare, and it's busy at the moment because of the pre-Easter orders, but hopefully things will settle down soon. She was really worried that if she didn't find something soon, she wouldn't be able to stay up there. So this gives her some stability and a regular income, and because it is just mornings it means she can get on with her own editing and writing in the afternoons. Phew.

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And finally...

When we walk out of the front door of our block of flats on to Brixton Hill, we can see straight down into central London and have a clear view of the Gherkin, one of the most iconic buildings on the London skyline. A few months back, we noticed a new skyscraper had reared itself above the Brixton skyline... Officially known as the Strata Tower, this has already become known as "the Razor", because after "the Gherkin" all landmark buildings in London have to have a nickname. It's a new tower-block in Elephant and Castle, and sounds like an amazing building - with three huge wind turbines at its peak that give it its distinctive appearance, and will generate energy to power the building. You can read all about it here.

"The Razor" under construction, courtesy of zupermaus

Problem is, every time we see it, we can't help but think of the Tower of Mordor, and that a huge eye is going to appear above those wind turbines, and blink...

Weddings and restaurants

'Angel Face' beakers by contemporary potter Anja Lubach

From the Royal Academy (see previous post), we decamped to tea in The Gallery café at Fortnum and Mason, a joint treat for my parents for my father's birthday at the start of March, and Mothers' Day last weekend. We used to go there for tea with my grandmother when my sister and I were little and she came 'up to town', and when I suggested it, little did I know that a proper Fortnum's afternoon tea in the St James's Restaurant costs more than £30 a head!! So we didn't go there... But abiding memories of bumping into the actress Lorraine Chase in the ladies loos, and my toddler sister saying something which made her laugh - though whatever it was she said is now lost in the mists of time...

We caught them up on my cousin Henry's wedding yesterday - a slightly surreal affair, since it was incredibly High Church, which didn't seem at all in keeping with their personalities, which tend towards the Gothic... Henry's taste in music basically equals Iron Maiden, not Fauré's Canticle for Jean Racine, which was one of the musical interludes sung by the church's very own choir; and Rhiannon's bridesmaids were extensively tattooed, all of which made the proceedings a little disconnected from the surroundings. Which were beautiful - the high Victorian glamour of All Saints church off Regent Street, followed by the spectacular views across London from the top floor restaurant of the St George's Hotel...

They looked happy and it was obviously the wedding that they wanted, which is the main thing. We did some very superficial catching up with my uncle and aunt - my uncle being my father's first cousin - and had quite interesting conversations over dinner with the other family extras with whom we were seated: assorted godparents and parental cousins, one of whom turned out to be a former Tory MP, another the chap who invented Lincolnshire Poacher, one of K's favourite cheeses! Amusing to see him so star-struck when he learned this, and suddenly incapable of making conversation about cheese! Lincolnshire Poacher is one of our staples at our now-traditional Sunday night cheese board - and inspired by last night, K stocked up at Fortnum's this afternoon!

As for wedding present - we bought Henry and Rhiannon a bowl in the style of the beakers illustrated at the top of this post, a handmade piece by ceramic artist Anja Lubach, from her 'Angel Face' series. I find them beautiful but also slightly disturbing - I am hoping their gothic style appeals to the newlyweds! We bought it at Contemporary Ceramics in Somerset House - a small gallery which exhibits the work of many contemporary potters, a really nice place to browse, and not overly expensive if you want to buy a unique present for someone.

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We both indulged in a little bit of beef during dinner last night - naughtily as, don't forget, K has given up meat for Lent, which perforce means I have too. I have to admit that I have had fish a few times, though K has been very good about sticking to his principles (apart from a couple of occasions when he actually forgot he'd given up meat!). I was amazed he didn't give himself a little holiday when we went to Moro last weekend with Nigel and Ginny - a really fabulous experience that we certainly hope to repeat after Easter, but also after we have saved up since it was not cheap!

For those that do not know, it's a restaurant in the attractive parade of shops and restaurants at Exmouth Market - which I think has largely grown up due to the Moro owners' patronage of the area - run by a husband and wife team of chefs (Sam and Sam Clark) who combine Spanish and North African cooking and well-sourced ingredients. We have all their cookbooks, and regularly use their recipes, which I find to be reliable and delicious. But in all these years - despite frequent good intentions - we have never actually been to eat there. Mainly because until very recently, we have not been in a financial position to do so.

But what an experience! The first thing that assailed us was the amazing smell coming from the open kitchen at the back of the restaurant - which was a constant delight, changing and wafting over us throughout the two and a bit hours we were there. The menu was short and simple, and you just knew that everything on it would be fantastic. Nigel and Ginny both had amazing looking meat dishes - in fact, I did have a nibble of Ginny's lamb which was gorgeous! - while I had an absolutely huge plate of grilled bream, and K had the vegetable mezze, which actually looked pretty gorgeous too.

But I think what amazed us all the most was the service - completely unostentatious, just quietly and confidently excellent. Somehow they knew who had ordered what, despite it being somebody different bringing the food from the person who had taken our order. There is probably a crude trick to doing this, but my, it's impressive and makes you feel you're in the presence of great restaurateurs!

Despite the fabulousness of Moro, we have found that it is easy to be vegetarian - if you cook your meals yourself. On the few occasions we have eaten lunch or dinner out over the last five weeks, our experience has been that interesting vegetarian options cannot regularly be found on menus. Vegetarian options yes, but options that you might actually want to and enjoy eating - not so much. Surprisingly, since I thought vegetarianism would have been pretty mainstream by now.

Though I haven't exactly missed eating meat, I have found myself craving sausages and mash a couple of times. And K's idea of a meat-free meal generally involves plenty of cheese, so it has not been an altogether healthy few weeks!

Van Gogh's Letters

Letter 902 from Vincent to Theo van Gogh - the last letter he ever wrote his brother

Just in from seeing the current Van Gogh exhibition at the Royal Academy with my parents. Though I usually steer well clear of anything that smacks of Impressionism at the Royal Academy - since the crowds at those shows are legendary - my mother likes to get in touch with her Dutch roots when anything Netherlandish comes on, and I wanted to see the exhibition since reading a review of the latest edited volume of Van Gogh's letters in the LRB. (My father lasted about 20 minutes in the exhibition - which was, admittedly and expectedly, absolutely packed - and K went to see the Paul Sandby show of 18th-century watercolours, 'Picturing Britain', instead!)

Van Gogh was an inveterate letter-writer - after an exhausting day of painting, he would sit down and write screeds of correspondence, most often to his brother Theo, to whom he wrote nearly 1000 letters. These would describe in detail the paintings he was in the process of making, regularly including sketches or studies, with indications of how he intended to colour them... His philosophy of painting and the gradual deterioration of his mental state plays out in the pages of these letters, and the exhibition nicely brought together the finished oils themselves with pen and ink sketches or studies - which were often beautiful in their own right, occasionally more so than the paintings - with the letters, sympathetically mounted so you could see both sides, and with selected quotations from the letters on the labels, serving to elucidate the art.

It was nicely done, though huge. And as usual at the RA (I find) very little wider context. So no explanation, for example, of why Van Gogh suddenly switches from Dutch to French in his correspondence with his brother. And not arranged particularly chronologically - except for the last room, which contains the landscapes he painted when he was in the mental asylum in Auvers-sur-Oise, in the last months of his life. You're just expected to know the key events and moments of Van Gogh's career, which I don't - perhaps the result of not having come to any of the RA's previous Impressionist exhibitions.

My overriding impression was of the tragedy of Van Gogh's life. He had such a close relationship with his brother - they died within a year of each other. Theo was not only his main source of finance, but his main advocate and guide in the development of his artistic career - keeping him informed of developments in Paris, as Van Gogh taught himself to paint in the area round The Hague. Van Gogh was obviously hyper-sensitised to colour and his surroundings, I presume a consequence of his mental illness - something I had not really noticed before, perhaps from never having seen so many of his art works together in one place. Amazingly, in the last 70 days of his life, he painted more than 70 canvases. He was obviously working at such a frenzied peak of activity that ultimately it was too much for him to sustain, and he shot himself.

But it was the love and closeness that the two brothers had for each other that really came through for me - and perhaps mainly because I had read the LRB review, since there was not too much about this in the text panels. All the letters have been fully edited, translated and published - a small investment of £325, or you can view everything online in facsimile (for free!) here.

Bafta Sundays

For the last three Sunday mornings, we have gone to the cinema. Our marvellous local arthouse cinema, The Ritzy, has been showing all the films nominated for the BAFTA award for best 'Film Not in the English Language', and we have been making the most of our membership to catch up on the films we didn't see the first time around. It has also been a really lovely way to relax, which we're trying to get better about doing at the weekend. The Ritzy now has this clever system where you print at home a barcode which contains your booking confirmation, so no more queueing to pick up tickets - you just need to get there in time to buy a coffee from the bar, have your barcode zapped and away you go. Marvellous.

This morning's film was Coco Avant Chanel, which was beautifully made and enjoyable - and my goodness Audrey Tautou looks so much like Chanel! - but I still found it a bit disappointing. Of course the film's title is very clear about the fact that it is not about how she built up her haute couture empire, yet at the same time it tried to be a little bit about that, and I found that was actually what I wanted to know more about - not about her relationships with the men who helped her get to a position of being able to set up her business, since at the very least it seemed - from the film - that she didn't want to depend on men. So I found that rather unresolved and unsatisfying.

Last Sunday we sojourned in the colourful fantasy world of Pedro Almodóvar, watching Abrazos Rotos (Broken Embraces) - as K put it, basically the same film he always makes, about lost or unrequited love and obsessions, but my god he's good at it! So that was the usual delight - and so brightly coloured and patterned that your eyes feel like they have something wrong with them when you come out of the cinema, especially since it was daylight! But it very much made me want to jump on the first plane to Madrid...

And the week before, it was Das Weisse Band (The White Ribbon), the Michael Haneke film which was strangely exactly like The Castle, which we went to see at the BFI a few months ago - his film of an unfinished literary fragment of Proust, which just stops abruptly at the place Proust's fragment stops, so in your mind the characters are forever locked in their Proustian world of cyclical absurdities... The White Ribbon is probably the film that I rated the most out of these three, though it was sinister and disturbing, more so for the way it begins with a tranquil picture of a German village before the First World War and through accidents, murders and heightened suspicion among an enclosed community gradually rolls back all the ways in which adults abuse children... Haneke has apparently called it a film about the root cause of all terrorist acts.

The Ritzy's favourite for the Bafta was Let The Right One In, the beautiful Swedish vampire film which we also loved, but in the end the winner was Un Prophète, deservedly so I think as that really was in another league from the other nominations. It missed out on an Oscar - unsurprisingly I suppose, as those nominations seem to be more about securing television ratings for the awards ceremony than rewarding good film making... (though I am glad Avatar didn't win Best Picture). The foreign language award went to an Argentinian film I have never heard of (El Secreto de Sus Ojos) - but I hope it's released in the UK soon.

The whole idea of a foreign language category is so ridiculous anyway. These are just excellent films - better usually than most of the English-language films - and shouldn't be judged according to a different standard. Or rather, why should the English-language films be favoured, when often they seem to be scraping the barrel to get a list together, especially now they've made it longer.

It's like 'world music'. We like to put into boxes and ghettoes anything we don't (sometimes literally) understand.

Anyway - I've been enjoying Sunday morning cinema. Not sure what I'll do without it next weekend...

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We also went to see Banksy's film this week, Exit Through the Gift Shop. K and Cornelius both loved it - K was in stitches most of the time - but I have to admit, I was utterly bemused for most of it... It purported to be a documentary about a documentarist making a film about street art, but it was and it wasn't that. Like Banksy's own street art - or his recent 'interventions' at Bristol Museum (which I really wish I had had the chance to see) - it looks like one thing from a distance, and then you realise it is something else entirely. Thing is, I am still not sure I've worked it out...