Drawings

It's been a fairly uneventful week. I've mainly been hand-quilting my rainbow quilt, which is to cover a single bed and is thus, by my standards, quite large - certainly the largest I've done. I'm having fun, though, just quilting it to please myself, not to any particular pattern. 

But we did go to an exhibition of Renaissance drawings at the King's Gallery - everything here is from the royal collections. (Why does one family have so much? Hmm.) First, we had coffee in the cafe, which has nice views out on to the hill behind. Sustenance and then art. 

The drawings were amazing, not least because they were on paper and had survived 500 years. (I don't imagine that anything I do will survive me by 50 years, let alone 500.) Mainly they were sketches for later paintings, some of which are now lost (or, who knows? maybe on someone's wall somewhere). The one below is by Battista Franco. He lived from 1510-1561; not all that long. This is the flagellation of Christ, so not exactly cheery. But doesn't it have movement? And aren't the expressions of the two chaps on the right interesting? One just dogged, the other somewhat horrified, as one might well be if Jesus was looking so intently into one's face. 

This is St Jerome by Bartolomeo Passarotti, who lived quite a bit longer: 1529-1592. 

And this head of a man is by the Circle of Cristoforo Canozzi da Lendinara, c 1427- after 1477. So possibly not even by Cristoforo himself. It's thought that it was a design for intarsia, in which pieces of differently toned wood are inlaid - hence the sort of contour lines. 

Now, this is a sad one. Parmigianino (1503-1540) was commissioned to decorate the vault of Santa Maria della Steccata, and this is his sketch for the middle of it. It's the coronation of the Virgin. But he was jailed for a while for his lack of progress, and then he died - at 37. Oh dear. 

All these chaps were so much cleverer than I am and I'd never heard of any of them. I'm glad that their work is still around, though. So thanks, King Charles, I suppose, for letting us see them. 

 

Then and now

The exhibition about James VI and I and his times was excellent. Look at the embroidery on this woman's waistcoat! 

And the detail on this painting!

I have been horrendously busy with choir stuff and other things, but meanwhile the garden has been blooming away. Self-seeded foxgloves...

alliums 

irises and lupins 

and more irises.

We had lunch at Swanston yesterday to celebrate the birthdays of Mr Life and Son-in-Law 1, and then went for a little walk. 

All very peaceful, and a beautiful day. We've had an unusual run of beautiful weather but the garden needs rain. Shouldn't complain, really; it's been lovely. And it'll rain eventually. 

 

Good times, rolling

After a couple of quiet weeks, I went over the water (this is North Queensferry) to Dundee, to meet up with Mr L's cousin (he has a selection of these) and go to the kimono exhibition at the Dundee Victoria and Albert museum. 

It was very interesting. This kimono was made between 1800 and 1860. The embroidery was amazingly detailed. 

This was made between 1680 and 1705. Isn't it amazing condition, considering its age? It has characters on it which refer to a poem about the mountain rose or yamabuki: 

Were even a single flower

On the double-flowered yamabuki

In my garden

To remain,

It would be reminder of spring. 

(Yes, I know what you mean, poet - and this was from a collection of poems compiled by the Emperor Kazan in about 1005. We don't really change, do we?)

I did wonder why some of the pattern matching on the joins of the beautiful kimonos was slightly wonky, but then it turns out that the pieces are cut, then embroidered, then joined together. As below.

So that's why. In fact, it's a miracle that they match as well as they do, considering that it's all pre-decorated. Wow. 

Then last night I went with Daughter 1 and the Edinburgh Two to the Botanics light show, because we almost always do. It's so nice that the grandchildren still want to go. I savour every moment of their company, because they're growing up, and will soon not need to be taken places. 

Big Grandson is at least a head taller than me now, and has a nice group of school friends with whom he does stuff. I'm sure they're much more interesting to him than his granny, but he still comes round to see us. 

This is what the little greenhouse looked like, lit up. 

It was all very pretty. 

Then today we went back up to Dundee, to spend time with Son and his little Unbloggables. So lovely.

And now I should be getting ready for the arrival of Daughter 2, her husband and Littlest Granddaughter tomorrow, and my brother, sister-in-law and niece on Monday. Let the good times roll!
 

The retired life

The weather has been somewhat revolting for the last couple of weeks - rainy and sometimes very windy - so we've sought indoor activities. For example, we went to an exhibition featuring the art of the printer over the centuries. I would very much have this Elizabeth Blackadder on my walls, thank you.

I love the cat's fed-up expression, all in the eyes. 

In complete contrast is this, by Claude Mellan (1598-1688). The entire picture is one line, starting on the tip of the nose and moving outwards, the darker areas being made when the line(s) get closer together.

The line is an estimated 150 metres long. I hope that M. Mellan would be pleased that, four-ish centuries after he slaved away on it, people are still finding it amazing. 

On Saturday, hooray, the sun shone for our walking group, so we took advantage of this. (I'm in the middle, with a black coat.) It was lovely to be outside, stretching the old legs. 

I'm getting on with quilting Big Granddaughter's dragon quilt (dragons not pictured). She's given me detailed instructions on how to quilt it. I might have chosen less labour-intensive ways, but she was firm. 

Another wet day we went to the museum, where there was an exhibition of wildlife photography. 

A mum and baby hippo by Mike Korostolev. 

A horseshoe crab, which is seemingly not a crab at all, with some fish which are hovering about, hoping  that the horseshoe non-crab will disturb something that they can then eat. This was taken by Laurent Ballesta and won the Wildlife Photographer of the Year. 

This is very impressive too, by Amit Eshel: two Nubian ibex having a fight. Kind of symbolises what's going on in the world, led by idiot males. At least the ibex are only endangering themselves. 

And today it wasn't raining so we walked along the river through Stockbridge. Look how wide the river is at the moment, after all that rain. 

It was peaceful, though. 

We took some stuff to charity shops - we do this so often that I can't understand why we still have so much stuff left - must try harder -

and enjoyed the sunshine and exercise. 
 

Pictures

We went to the BP portrait competition exhibition (the last one, since the galleries have decided that BP isn't very suitable as a sponsor, hmm) the other day. This portrait got third prize. I know it's very photographic and some people think you might as well take a photo but look! The skill in using paints in such a realistic way!

Look at the veins and the slighly chipped nails! Her clothes are slightly bobbled and the hot water bottle is a bit grubby. Amazing! I'd have given it first prize, myself.

Another day we went up to visit the Unbloggables. Little Grandson is so cute! - full of grins, so soft and squashy and trying to walk - as yet unsuccessfully, since he's only eight months.

Medium Granddaughter is lovely too.

I'm continuing my trawl through the archives. Here's Son at 3. He was very cute too, in my maternal opinion.

This is from a 1948 newspaper, the year that Mr L was born. Sixteen babies died that week in Edinburgh and lots of older people from diseases that sound Dickensian, like phthisis. I didn't know it was still called that then.

This dates from when Son was a little boy, probably seven, when he announced that he'd drawn a rude picture. Somewhat horrified, I investigated. Not too rude, really.

And here's one of Mr Life's great-grandfathers. This means that he's our grandchildren's great-great-great-grandfather. How wonderful (I hope they'll think, one day) to have a photo of one's great-great-great-grandfather. I know the names of mine, but that's all.