The Bicentenary of Saint John's, Parts 1 and 2

             

                          The Bicentenary of St John’s

The Church of Saint John the Evangelist, Princes Street, Edinburgh was consecrated in March 1818

          

                                      CANTO ONE

                Think 1818. George III was king

                And Europe was awash with creativity.

                “Heart of Midlothian” was Scott’s new thing;

                The Marx couple celebrated Karl’s nativity;

                Gruber wrote “Stille Nacht for us to sing.

                The list o’erwhelms a heart of sensitivity.

                                It's far too long! In fact it might be speedier

                                To look the whole lot up in Wikipedia.

                And, don’t forget, this year did Mary Shelley

                Conceive her famous Doctor Frankenstein.

                (I say “conceive”. He was not in her belly,

                Rather her fecund fantasy divine.)

    I guess the Shelley household was a melée

    Of quill, ink, paper – all the author’s line.

                And this, in fact, was rather handy as

                Her Percy Bysshe was writing “Ozymandias”.

    But what about the Athens of the North,

    Then slithering from off its lofty perch,

    Street by new street towards the Firth of Forth?

    The old crown jewels were found after a search

                (That Scott again) and many a man of worth

                Thought the New Town should have another church.

                                So, just as Byron started on “Don Juan”

                                Why, Daniel Sandford thought he’d build a new one.

                These lines may make a nest for some church mice,

                Or act on my friend Dorp like an emetic,

                But “Cornerstone” is free, so there’s no price;

                I trust my readers to be sympathetic.

                A bicentenary doesn’t happen twice

                So it seems right to pen some sort of epic.

                                And what could better suit a bold romancer

                                Than write his verse in a Byronic stanza?

                                                CANTO TWO

                This Sandford – Bishop Daniel, I should say –

                Dreamed of a new church for a new season.

                His diocese perhaps would point the way

                From the Enlightenment and Age of Reason

                To post-Napoleonic piety. A day

                For Godly worship to confound the heathen.

                                He wanted most (and bless his cotton socks)

                                A Gothic temple, not a preaching box.

                Let’s have, he thought, stained glass; a solemn file

                Of lofty pillars, drifting ever higher

                Towards the vaulted ceiling in the style

                Called “Perpendicular”. Let’s have a choir

                Engendering pious musings. All the while

                He planned two churches piskies to inspire.

                                And first of these two New Town Gothic halls

                                Was Ps and Gs – in those days just St Pauls.

                But churches aren’t just castles in the air,

                Whether for Kirk Established or some sect.

                They must stand up; put up with wear and tear.

                They’re stone and mortar, lead and glass, bedecked

                With ornament. And they must have a care;

                “Authentic Gothic detail” would be checked.

                                You need an architect. They chose to turn

                                To the young, up-and-coming William Burn.

                An architect is not the only thing.

                By no means! There are plans to make. A lot

                Of funds to raise and give, donors to bring

                And many legal tangles to unknot.

                We had the man! Wealth, energy and “zing”,
                Needed the Ts to cross and Is to dot.

                                So if on May the Sixth your spirits fly, go

                                Drink a toast to Forbes of Pitsligo.

Art Exhibition - "New Landscapes"

During the last week of February I had an art exhibition in the Dundas Street Gallery, in Edinburgh. I showed 40 paintings, and lots of hand-made cards. I meant to write this in time to encourage folks to come to the show; that did not happen, but anyhow, here it is now. You can enjoy the views without worrying about the weather.

The Beast from the East arrives in Dundas Street

I paint places I love. As a result the method of painting is usually adapted to the subject, rather than the other way round. Sometimes I revisit a subject I have tried to paint many times before; but I like to think I have got a bit better with practice.

Wetherlam from Crowberry Hause

I do like painting in the open air, on the spot, but the weather is not always supportive of this approach. In August last year, when I walked about 2 miles up a roughish path to get the view I wanted of the Scafells, the ridge disappeared in cloud.

Plein Air

 Fortunately I had a drawing of the ridge made about 4 years before. so the picture was finished at home - keeping, I hope the on-the-spot feel.

The Scafells from the top of Mosedale

Sometimes I use rags instead of brushes. Nice people say I sometimes capture the mood of a place. This one was all rags. I hope it is recognisable. The skyline was altered after a second visit to the site.

The Langdale Pikes

On the other hand this one of Feshie Bridge was painted entirely with a palette knife, expect for the stonework round the arch. Like the Langdale Pikes it was done from sketches made on the spot. For some reason I cannot explain I do not find any pleasure in working from photographs, with only three exceptions I can think of - none in this exhibition.

Feshie Bridge

One of my most useful bits of kit is a pochade box I bought fairly recently. It fits in a rucksack, so I can take it up the fells or to the beach. All these pictures, by the way, are done in acrylic. I know this medium has its detractors, but it suits me very well.

The pochade box in use, painting the Bass Rock

Old Copper Level at Paddy End (painted with the pochade box)

The hand-made cards went unexpectedly well. Over 100 were sold. They are fun to do, and a lot less stressful than making a painting. Often I am trying to catch a mood and working from memory - or imagination.

Hand-painted Card in Acrylic

One very pleasing feature of the pochade box is that I can paint using it in the front passenger seat of the car, without making too much mess. This one, for example, was painted on a poor day, sitting where the road goes close to the shore, north of Ullapool.

The shore at Ardmair

That is quite enough for one blog-post. I may not be able to resist putting more paintings up in future.