It's all still sinking in. The hard work, the experience of exhibiting, the aftermath. Because I work in an alone space it shocked me on the night of the opening that people would . . .
I spent two days absorbing the art at Tate Modern and Tate Britain the other week. The retrospective of David Hockney was a treat. I don't think I had ever seen an exhibition of his before. . . .
We are drawn to the edge. Like so many flamingoes we like to dip our toes into the water and paddle while the sun goes down. Lisbon feels edgy in a different way. More used to the western . . .
No artist is pleased… There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive....... Martha Graham Photoblogging has brought me deep . . .
Angela Jupe's Georgian home Bellefield House In March the garden is full of daffodils and hellebores. Wild woodland planting . . .
When I was in Rome earlier this year as part of this Pilgrimage year, I remembered those tiny paint boxes that we used to get for Christmas when I was a kid. Each little square or . . .
Small flocks of warblers have invaded the herb garden and I've taken a big shine to them. I think this one is a Chiff-chaff but as ever I am open to correction by my twitcher friends. This summer . . .
I skip the Pope's house this time. I am always cautious not to disrespect another's idea of beauty or religion, all I know is that I would never find light there. In the . . .
In another dream life I live in the big smoke. Which city? Well any of them to be honest, but at the moment it's London. I wander around from theatre to cafe and from river to park, I . . .