Intense skies and another summer show

I think I've worked out at least one reason why April is the cruellest month.  Nearly every day this last week, the sun came out at regular intervals and filled the world with enough glorious, encouraging light - and, in protected spots out of the wind, warmth - surely to tempt a slow worm out from under its stone (found a few in my parents' garden, sensibly hiding).  And, every single time, within ten or so minutes it was suddenly gone and instead we had hail or snow. And then back to the obviously-set-for the-day sunshine, pretending it never went away.  Repeat repeat repeat - crazy weather.  But the skies, oh! the skies.  As the heavens prepared to deliver the next icy shock, the sky would turn dense, dark storm blue, with everything startlingly spotlit against it, or it would be fantastically sculpted from deep indigo clouds, carved through to the lighter shades within.  The lighting has been incredible and made for some stunning colours -  as ever, the improbable acid green of ordinarily grass-green fields, but also a claret-leafed tree across the river valley, and (a favourite blend) the russet-red new growth of pollarded lime trees glowing against a background of pure white blossom in the churchyard - just gorgeous.

More prosaically, I was pleased to have a piece of work selected for the latest Bath Society of Artists' Summer Exhibition, though faintly surprised that, of the two I submitted, 'Gather' was the one that made it in. I'm not complaining, more intrigued at how these things go.

It's as fun as all the other summer (well, more or less summer, anyway) shows I've visited at the Victoria Art Gallery down the years.  As ever, I like some works, don't like others, know that most of this is purely down to my particular taste and (not knowing what's what, but not prepared to allow for that) feel that a few are just plain poor.  I liked some winners, couldn't get my head round others, frankly laughed at one or two (that's frankly laughed inside my head - I wasn't sharing my views).  I like that I recognise a handful of my favourite artists by now, and notice when others aren't on the walls.  One day I shall make the effort to put aside a fund from any sales of my own work throughout the year(s), then allow myself a painting.

Favourites?  As ever, I love Amanda Ralfe's chalky paintings.

Also works by Andrew Lansley, Rosie Mack, Richard Twose and many others.  Some are below - hover over them for name and artist.  I should probably point out that nobody's work was actually a not-quite-rectangle - any and all optical whatnots should be attributed to the photographer (sorry).

I always feel that I don't give the sculpture at the show enough space - I enjoy the 3D work, but if I'm not careful I find I treat it mostly as obstacles to avoid while looking at the walls, hazards that must not be knocked over.  Also, it's easy to lose sight of the individual pieces.  The walls might be richly full, but I find myself able to concentrate on the piece in front of me and ignore those around it.  With the sculptures, though, the busy-ness of the background makes that more difficult, for me certainly.  It's an odd sensation - I walk round, carefully trying to focus my attention on the sculptures, but as often as not it just scatters.  Nevertheless, I persevered.  Here's a selection I liked, but there might be others where I.  Just.  Couldn't.  Oh look, paintings! 

Next up, I'm hoping to see the Discerning Eye exhibition, which has rocked up in - surely one of the most unlikely places - Trowbridge.  I'll have to see what I can manage.