It’s an artist's effort to create something

Joan Mitchell's painting called Iva

The difference between our house and most other houses in England is that we have beach towels and swimmers, littering our lounge every day. We normally hang towels across the dining room chairs and costumes in the airing cupboard, but it is strange that in the depths of winter they still grace our living area. Swimming every day, all year round has its perks; you feel amazing, but there are times I do question my sanity. Enough said. Be brave, embrace the outdoors.

It’s an artist's effort to create something.

The extraordinary privilege of an artist, to give birth to a world we do not suspect, they carry inside them, and still they have given birth to a coherent body of work that will be there to the end of time, it is a mystery of creation.

The difference between a painter and a photographer.

Painters are not intellectuals, they are only intellectuals in a visual sense, they don’t think up what you supposed to paint, they look at things and they paint it the way they see it. They look at the world, and that’s what they paint.

They use manufactured colours to hold this frozen image of what they are seeing and thinking. 

The photographer catching that moment in time, if he has the right equipment and an eye for something special, he will take the shot. He, too, is capturing that visual sense of something real, like a flower. The painter sees the flower and paints it the way they see it, and because it comes from within, it will always be unique, unlike the photographer, whose flower can be photographed by many and will not be unique, as it is what the lens of the camera sees and stores.

There is a place for both in the world, and they are both artists in their own right; the painter creates, the photographer captures.

Someone once asked an artist what they felt once they finish their painting, he replied, “Relief, it is now out of my head and onto the canvas. I can fill my head with something else.”

Mark Cook, farmer and future wine maker enjoys the simple pleasures of Pom-Bear, Teddy Shaped Potato Snack, yes, this man with a temple of a body, well a big temple, does enjoy the simple foods. Full of nutrition and flavour, he does advocate this as an essential part of anyone’s diet.

He said, and I quote, “These Pom-Bear snacks are deliciously light and crispy, delicately flavoured and fun to eat. They are free from gluten, artificial colours and flavours, and also free of clothes!” Mark Cook is embarking on a new chapter of his varied and colourful life, from property development in Thailand to grape growing in Italy. We all hope the world is ready for him.

Wimborne Minster

We did a quick trip to Wimbourne Minster, for Susan was getting her nails done, all in preparation for our trip to Spain on Monday and then a bite to eat. So the expression 'The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry', comes to mind. The beauty shop was too busy, so we decided to visit Le Petit Prince Patisserie for some refreshment. Susan picked the Ham and Cheese Quiche with the customary Cappuccino, decaf, oat milk. I know, they do make them, it is an actual cappuccino without the caffeine. I settled for a Bacon and Cheese croissant, accompanied by a double espresso. Rather enjoyable, and then we decided to take a different route back to the car. Fatal, cost us just under £100, we walked into an Aladdin's cave of boutique shops. Starting with Fluffits, a shop selling local produce, the honey was local. So we just had to buy some, and then there was locally made butter,   not a square block but a roll! We immediately thought of Lauren and Robert, they are posh, so we bought some posh round butter. Moving on, we encountered The East Street Deli,  two tins of posh green olives with chillis were added to our basket. Susan found a nicnac shop, a posh nicnac shop, Tickles & Co. Now the serious money was spent. What did we buy? A bedside lamp and a gift for my favourite daughter. In all fairness, it was fun.

Did I say Spain? Yes, booked after one too many glasses of wine on a Sunday evening. We are not going to Spain as such, we are going to the island of Majorca, to a little village called Cala Sant Vinenc, where our hotel is currently situated. Rumour has it that the Stone-built villages with their art galleries and music festival, and hillside Fornalutx, surrounded by citrus plantations, also have a beautiful beach. Michael, Robert and Lauren are also accompanying us for a week of sun, food and relaxation. I will blog about our trip once we are back. Now as they say in Spain - Adiós hasta la próxima.*

*Means;  Goodbye to until next time.