Home sweet home

After three days in London ping-ponging between sublime, ridiculous and bizarre realities, spilling into the nocturnal time zone, I arrived home in a state of jet-lag.  It has taken until now to regain composure, delayed no doubt by bitter cold and yet more snow.  My drive resembles a piste and I am piste off. The Great Weather Controller in the Sky seems to be having trouble finding the correct co-ordinates for Siberia.  In case, the GWCS is reading this, then you have got it wrong by about 2000 miles - again!

However, my hobbit hole is exerting its magic and I am coming round.  I itch for three things when I'm away: my piano; my writing; my paintings.  Like a nomad arriving at the oasis, I have immersed myself in all three.  I have spent the last couple of evenings in the company of the  Jumblies.  Actually, I spend every evening with them: it's one of Johnny's paintings and hangs in my sitting room.

They went to sea in a sieve

The painting is inspired by the poem 'the Jumblies' by Edward Lear.  Johnny has written the poem out and turned the paper round and round, so it can be hung any way up.  It's colours of the sea and a lot of gold, so depending on the light takes on infinite shades of colour and moods.

'They went to sea' belongs to the envelope family.  You can look at it on many levels:  surface level and its colours and patterns, or start to swim beneath the surface and among the letters; find words; make meaning or no meaning.  Johnny loves a paradox, the ridiculous and hiding things.

How did I end up with the Jumblies?  Like all my paintings, they seem to find me rather than the other way round.  The Jumblies had barely escaped ruin when the roof leaked in the Studio, which prompted Johnny to get it framed.  Then came the problem of where to hang it as it's a large painting.  I had a large wall and so it moved in.  I fell in love with it and there was no way it was going to move out.

from 'The Jumblies'

They went to sea in a Sieve, they did,

In a Sieve they went to sea:

In spite of all their friends could say,

On a winter's morn, on a stormy day,

In a Sieve they went to sea!

And when the Sieve turned round and round,

And everyone cried, 'You'll all be drowned!'

They called aloud, 'Our Sieve ain't big,

But we don't care a button! We don't care fig!

In a Sieve we'll go to sea!'

Far and few, far and few,

Are the lands where the Jumblies live;

Their heads are green and their hands are blue,

And they went to sea in a Sieve.

Edward Lear