Weir-d

Playing around with layers to create an impressionistic effect. I'm never sure whether these 'work' or not. Is it just blurry? I think some subjects perhaps work better than others for this technique and perhaps this is a near miss. 

Inspired

I visited an exhibition today in Leeds that contained an exquisite little book called 'A Venetian Brocade' by Helen Douglas, who is a Scottish artist and photographer. The images in her book are collages and layered images of Venice. I was really inspired by them and wondered if I could create something similar related to Saltaire. I took the basic idea (though I could not, of course, not slavishly follow it as I could only guess how she'd created the pictures). Anyway, playing around with some of my recent pictures of Salts Mill and the canal, I have come up with this collage. I do quite like it, though I'm sure with more practice I could improve on it. 

Patterns - and creativity

I seem to be adopting a blue theme in the last few posts. (Cool! 😄)  Here's a collage I made of reflections of Salts Mill in the canal. I'm often drawn to these patterns in the canal and river, which constantly change with the light and the movement of the water. Saltaire is so familiar to me and, even though it's a stunning World Heritage Site, I sometimes get bored by the same old views of the same old places. It's good to challenge myself to make something 'new' of it - and these sorts of patterns and abstracts are as 'original' as you can get, in that each frame cannot be repeated exactly. 

Having said that, I also feel a little frustrated that I get so far and then can't get any further, creatively speaking. This is not displeasing - nice colours and shapes - but I can't help feeling I should be able to make more of it. It's not really very artistic. It reminds me of when I was doing 'O' level Art. I'd drawn some flowers, quite nicely and neatly, and my art teacher took up a brush with red paint and drew a big messy outline around each flower head, with the idea of encouraging me to be freer and looser in my work. It clearly wasn't the right way to go about getting me to relax into it. I was horrified and didn't really see what she was getting at.  Now, I do, of course, but I still can't free my brain of that 'neat' gene. 

OK, pushing myself to riff on the theme now... a paler version:

Pale and layered ( probably like this the best!):

A layered and blended version: 

Change the colours: 

Liminal

Such a familiar sight and yet it continues to uplift me every time I see it. I've lived in the shadow of Salts Mill's chimney for over twenty-four years now and it has become an old friend that says 'home' to me. There is something about this shot that speaks to me. We have reached a liminal time of year. Nature doesn't know if it is winter or spring: bright sunshine promises warmth and doesn't quite deliver, a biting wind harks back to winter frosts, bare trees have leaf buds only just appearing and yet there's the occasional flurry of early blossom. The cherry trees on the main road have yet to flower but there is apple blossom in our gardens and blackthorn blossom in the hedgerows. And that blue, blue sky... a clear blue that does suggest a certain crisp cold. 

I am becoming aware that I'm reaching a liminal point in life too. Without really consciously deciding, I know it is time to prepare to move to a smaller and more easily managed home. I've loved living here in this old, solid, stone terrace, full of echoes of previous families who've lived here (I sense very contentedly), to which I've added my own story. It's been a real haven and is wonderfully located, in a good community. But these old houses take some managing and the steep stairs (though they allow the high ceilings that make the rooms feel spacious) will one day take me some managing too. They're not a problem yet but having Covid over Christmas underlined to me that the gap between 'coping' and 'not coping' is actually surprisingly narrow. I don't want to be forced out by ill health of one kind or another (though there is no sign of that yet) so I realise I need to prepare for and make a willing choice to downsize and future-proof  (as much as one is able) before I am forced to do so by circumstance and before the undoubted stress of moving starts to look too daunting. 

I've an idea of where I'd like to move to - and it's not far away. Beyond making sensible preparations to get this house to a saleable point (tidying and decluttering mainly) there is little I can do except to be ready to jump should a suitable property become available. I am, of course, already wishing it to happen, even before I am really 'ready'. Just as no-one can speed up the seasonal changes and there are false starts and it is frustrating 'waiting' for Spring, I shall have to wait and trust the process. I have to place it in God's hands. He hasn't let me down so far! 

Icons in the snow

I took rather too many photos in the snow that briefly appeared. It's such a rare occurrence these days, I get far too excited. I've processed these a little differently from my usual style. They seem to lend themselves to a black and white (selenium toned) treatment, which brings out the architectural details of these iconic locations in Saltaire: the United Reformed Church, the Victoria Hall and the bandstand in Roberts Park (not the Victorian original but a more recent replacement). One of them might have to be next year's Christmas card! 😉

 

Freezing fog

 

'I like the muted sounds, the shroud of grey, and the silence that comes with fog.'  - Om Malik

First snow of 2023...

 ... but it only lasted for about an hour and then all disappeared as suddenly as it arrived.

Cathedrals of industry

I took this double-exposure image on a recent visit to an exhibition in the roof space at Salts Mill. The vast spaces up there always inspire me as much as whatever event I've gone to see. The roof trusses remind me of the arches in cathedrals. This one, made of wood and iron, was leaking a rust stain down the stone wall. I've overlaid it with a rather battered and random piece of metal gridwork I found, screwed to the wall and fashioned as though it were small shelves or a rack, though for what purpose I have no idea.  

It got me thinking that, in their own way, our northern textile mills, these relics of the Industrial Revolution, were truly 'the cathedrals of industry'. I'm glad that some, like Salts Mill, are able to be preserved and appreciated for their scale and the quality of the work that went into the buildings themselves, not to mention the craftmanship of the machinery (like spinning machines and looms) that filled them - and the fine fabrics they ultimately produced in large quantities.

'And no bobbins and spindles and shuttles are left

Where weavers once tended the warp and the weft

To fettle to fabric with fine-spun thin threads

But axes have fallen and silenced the sheds.'       C Richard Miles

'A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it, bearing within him the image of a cathedral.'   Antoine de Saint-Exupery

(For 'rock pile', please read 'textile mill'.) 

'I went and looked at one of these great cathedrals one day, and I was blown away by it. From there I became interested in how cathedrals were built, and from there I became interested in the society that built the medieval cathedral. It occurred to me at some point that the story of the building of a cathedral could be a great popular novel.'    Ken Follett

The story of the building of Sir Titus Salt's great mill and his village of Saltaire is told many times in many books - though I don't know of a novel yet. And what a story it is; what a legacy he left us!

'Beauty is not generic, bland, and clinical. It isn't all things to all people. The Cathedral of Notre Dame in its endlessly intricate detail was beautiful. Modern office buildings are not.'   Michael J. Knowles

One of the aspects of Salts Mill that continually blows my mind is the elaborate detail that adorns it. The Victorians were never interested in utilitarian architecture. These buildings were statements about their founders, in a way that our bland modern office blocks are not. 

'For me, the reason why people go to a mountaintop or go to the edge of the ocean is to look at something larger than themselves. That feeling of awe, of going to a cathedral, it's all about feeling lost in something bigger than oneself. To me, that's the definition of spectacle.'  Diane Paulus

'But the first step inside, and a silent gasp -

it's bigger inside than outside...

and the sound of your steps soars to the high

indescribably glorious roof like a

small bird looking for an escape....

and you feel an intruder into the space of history

waiting for you to find your place.'   Michael Shepherd

Boundaries

Warm and humid today but I needed a walk so I did my usual 'out along the canal and back along the river and through the park' route. It takes me about an hour and a quarter, so it's a decent stretch (and I need to stretch, being crippled up with lower back pain right now. 😬 ) It turned out to be a bit of a nature walk, though mostly unidentified. I saw some kind of furry creature swimming across the canal. It was quite long but I couldn't really see it in detail so I'm not sure if it was a water vole, a mink or a rat. By Hirst Weir, there was a bird that I took to be the heron that is often around there - and then I wasn't sure, as it looked a lot paler than herons usually appear, and thinner too. So maybe a little egret? It was too far away to be certain. Less happily, there are flotillas of Canada geese along the river and in the park. I counted at least 50 birds. In the past few years they have taken over the local waterways and fields, big, messy, aggressive and noisy birds. I dislike them. Finally I spotted a tiny, brilliant blue butterfly near the nature reserve. I'm hopeless at identifying butterflies and it didn't stop still to be photographed or closely studied. It was most probably a Common Blue, though its underwings appeared to be blue too, so possibly a Holly Blue? Who cares, really? It was pretty and a delight to watch. 

The advantage of that particular walk, I think, is that it takes place along various boundaries - the edge of the canal, the river path, the edges of the grassland and woodland. Those liminal spaces are always exciting places to be. I walk the same route over and over and yet still see things afresh each time. 

The scene in my photo caught my eye this time. I'm not sure why, though the soft colours are so harmonious and I like the textures of stone, grasses, old wood. The lady lace is in bloom of course, which always reminds me of childhood... Our family outings into the lanes of the Derbyshire Peak District, and - specifically, for some reason - the May Day celebrations at Wellow, which I used to love, watching the maypole dancing and enjoying the festivities. The hedgerows were always coming into bloom at that time of year - buttercups and lady lace and may blossom. Sweet memories. 

Today isn't May Day... August 1st is Yorkshire Day. Having never actually desired to live in Yorkshire, and finding myself here initially just by circumstance (last minute entry to university), I have now lived here for 52 years. I reckon I can count myself Yorkshire and be proud of it. It gets under your skin and I wouldn't want to live anywhere else now.