Back home, now and still trying to regain a pattern of some kind in my life - as I might have mentioned once or twice before, as a rule my life could not be described as hectic, and after the last few weeks I can't seem to rediscover my footing. I'm sure it won't be long.
Next up, next exhibition - I collected my prints from the framer on Monday, delivered them to the gallery on Tuesday and the opening will be on Saturday, 1-3pm. Five of us are showing, all with Bolton connections as well as being members of Hot Bed Press.
After that, I'd like to take stock - there are a couple of events to which I'd like to submit work, but (oh dear) first I have to design it and make it, and I can't help noticing that what at first looks like six weeks already isn't, due to various commitments. And the Manchester Artists' Book Fair keeps looming at me too. Well, I'll just have to see how things work out.
However, I made a very good call when, what with it being the last day, I went to the Whitworth Gallery on Sunday, to catch the Gerhard Richter/Arvo Part double bill (part of the Manchester International Festival). New work by Richter, which didn't snag me at all, but I wasn't there for that. I was there to listen to the Arvo Part piece Drei Hirtenkinder aus Fátima performed (on that particular day) by the Manchester Chamber choir.
It was sublime. Short, but repeated throughout the day; I stayed for four performances before I dragged myself away, but I think I would quite happily have stayed until the gallery closed. The choir members were intermingled with whoever was in the gallery, so that we were totally immersed in the music, with different singers striking up at different times and from different directions, each new nearby voice sending a thrill through the listener (I can't have been the only one to feel that way). It's impossible to describe the moving beauty of it, and because the choir wandered about inbetween, each performance was entirely different. I went away with the music playing round and round in my head, and I was slightly bereft when I realised, later on, that it had faded from my memory. I've always really liked Arvo Part, but this was something very special.
I make prints and book arts, though nowhere near as often as I'd like - no good reason, just an inability to get on with things. I occasionally go on about landscape (with which I am mildly obsessed) and various of its elements, and I like to pass comment on exhibitions I visit.