antibarbarianism

Hot on the heels of Paxo's advice, I took to my bicycle to see Kate Lynch's touring Sheep exhibition at the New Brewery Arts. Okay, before you say it, that's the nearest thing we have to a gallery. Contemporary, you won't find anything Victorian though you might see something made with pre-Victorian technology such is the way of arty rural folk - rather like the subjects of Lynch's paintings and drawings. I like it like that; each in its proper place.

It was a fabulously warm morning, the air passed by with wonderful smells. The lemony scent of freshly sawn pine from a loft conversion, the heady perfume of a rose garden, and the incredibly nostalgic coconut-ice waft of a flowering gorse hedge. I chained the bike to a fire escape, there are no provisions for bicycles at the new gallery. A criminal oversight.

I really liked Lynch's charcoals. The oils were charming, they brought to mind Beryl Cook in the style of late Claude Monet, but that's the first time I've seen charcoals used with that style of figurative work. Big giants of people and beasts, wool and brawn. My favourite piece had no red dot but, alas, they were all (eek!) out of my price range.

There was a soundscape accompanying the exhibit but I couldn't hear it above the din of class 2K from Much Maisey-in-the-Leaze, (C of E) - I think it might have been switched off anyway. A shame: I love a bit of contrived ambiance. Still, good to watch the kiddliwinks scattered around the floor, rendering their paper with fluffy charcoal sheeps. Picasso's famous words came to mind.