Today was rather chilly and damp - though not snowy, as in other parts of the UK, not to say other parts of the world - and Mr Life and I decided to have an outing to the Dean Gallery, which seems to have renamed itself, rather boringly but I suppose descriptively, Modern 2. (Modern 1, formerly The Gallery of Modern Art, is across the road from it.) We wanted to see the exhibition of the paintings of Frances Cadell (1883 - 1937), who was one of the Scottish Colourists.
The building was designed in 1830 as an orphanage and was later a teachers' education centre but has been a gallery since the 1990s. Though maybe a bit grim-looking from the outside, particularly in February, it's been made rather lovely inside.
Looking across the grounds, we saw what's presumably an art installation. You can't read it in this reduced photo but there are neon letters saying "THERE WILL BE NO MIRACLES HERE" - which is a pity. One feels that one's life might be improved by a few miracles.
The paintings in the exhibition were (mostly) lovely - rubbishly reproduced here, so you'll have to take my word for it. I would have very much liked to take some of them home. Cadell painted lots of still lifes - I'm very fond of still lifes as long as they're of beautiful things rather than dead bunnies and so on. And he painted interiors - often looking through open doors or windows to give a glimpse of what's beyond. If only you could push that door a little wider and walk through... .
His paintings are often of his Edinburgh houses and feature various of his possessions, some of which were displayed in cases or shelves round the exhibition rooms - such as a tea set and other dishes. And I thought, as I have (unoriginally) so often thought, how brief our lives are. Our bits and pieces will on the whole remain around much longer than we will.
Anyway, what's a blog post without a couple of pictures of Grandson? These are from my phone camera and I can't quite think when I took them. The above one, quite recently, but the one below?
I can't even think where it is. Perth, presumably, when we went for lunch to the Huntingtower Hotel. Grandson seems to be sitting on a table. Seems odd. And what's the red UFO above Mr Life's head? Is it a mirror or a painting?
I wish Blogger would allow me a paragraph space here but - to conclude - Grandson seems like a miracle to me.