Days of Hatred

Yesterday the hideously xenophobic nature of England became all too clear. I don't often make political posts on here, but the deaths of 27 refugees in the English Channel elicited the kind of response on social media that made me, the daughter of a refugee myself, feel a deep despair for the country where I was born.

I can't see any way back for England now. I just can't. Scotland has a slim chance. That's about it. 

These were human beings like us, with hopes and fears. Every single person alive today in this (dis) United Kingdom is descended from an economic migrant. That means you. Even those of you proudly proclaiming your Anglo Saxon and Viking roots. Economic migrants all of you, searching for a better life. Without them, you wouldn't be here. 

These were refugees. They aim for the UK because their second language is English. We take fewer than any other European country. Many of them have relatives here. Many of them are young men, because few want to send elderly women and children across a continent in search of a new life. Some young families risk it. But who wouldn't, if they could, send their sons ahead, hoping for their safety and the possibility of a home and a future? 

What surprised me was that the very worst, the most racist, most disgustingly inhuman comments were on Facebook, rather than on Twitter, which generally tends to have something of the bearpit about it. Mostly they came from older men and women. A few were quite obviously bots. It's a fair bet that if you misspell country, but get all the long words right, you're not posting from the White Cliffs of Dover. But far too many weren't. Far too many were people who would otherwise consider themselves to be fine upstanding human beings. 

Dehumanizing others leads to catastrophe. 

Perhaps if the refugees dressed up as cats they'd meet with a bit more sympathy from the denizens of Facebook..  

My Other Half's Art 4: More Painting

One of the good things about having a husband who is an artist, is that you can sometimes use the images he paints as book covers. Village in Winter made a lovely cover picture for my novel Ice Dancing, which was as much about the joys and peculiarities of village life, as it was about the very grown up love story of the two main characters. 

Village in Winter

Village Gala Day

I think some of Alan's most engaging images are those that involve 'busy' scenes with lots of figures, pictures that tell a story without being just an illustration of something static. They're full of life, colour and movement and I love them. Certainly these are the ones that almost always find a buyer. Lots of people seem to like Outsider Art except the galleries who turn their exclusive noses up at it. 

I think my favourite of all, though, is the one called Ae Spring, in which Tam o' Shanter, is only just managing to escape from the clutches of Cutty Sark, showing her bum in her short shift, with Meg the Mare as well as Tam himself, looking around in horror. And the eyes under the bridge.And the small devil sitting in the tree. It's a wonderful picture and although the original has long been sold, we still have prints. 

Ae Spring

                                 

Bonspiel

 Do have a look at our Etsy Store, the 200 Year Old House, and at Alan's website. 

Meanwhile, remember this post from September?  Artwork Free to a Good Home? Well, time is marching on. It takes up so much space. And he means it. If somebody doesn't come along and take it away very soon, he really will chop it up and put it in the chimenea. But if you do want it, you're going to have to come and pick it up. Preferably for a church or some other religious foundation. 

My Other Half's Art 3: More Woodcarving

 Here's some more of Alan's woodcarving. Including the Gorilla that had to travel to Kelburn Country Park by yacht. 

Some of these pieces, including the chess set, are for sale, and again, you'll find them in our Etsy store. Some of them, like the gorilla, are long gone to very good homes!

Here are a few more images of the spectacular Hapsburg/Ottoman chess set.

The reverse of the board

And some of the work that went into it!

And the Last Supper - a beautiful lockdown project

Finally, a sciapod. This was a commission for a very special anniversary, and it a copy of a Mediaeval 'bench end' from an old church. Who doesn't love a creature whose foot is so big that he can use it as an umbrella or a sunshade? 

If you want to read and see more of Alan's work, go to his website: Alan Lees Artist

My Other Half's Art 2: The Celtic Guitar

Today's artwork is an entirely hand carved celtic design electric guitar. It really is extraordinarily beautiful. You can see more of it here.

It is not strung and never has been, although stringing - and therefore playing - would be possible. But it is also a collectible, and very unusual, sculpture in wood.

It measures 105cm long by 31 cm at its widest.
It was made in the 1980s when Alan Lees was working as one of Scotland's foremost wood carvers. Examples of his work can be seen throughout Scotland, many in outdoor settings, but he also produced fine indoor pieces such as this one. As he himself says, he cannot now remember what wood this is made from, but it is an exotic hardwood that was recommended for its resonance by musician colleagues. It was also a very beautiful wood for carving.

If you would like to read and see more about Alan's work, you can go to his website 

Alan Lees Artist 

My Other Half's Art: End of Shift

 I'm going to spend a bit of time this week showcasing some of my artist husband's beautiful work. Alan Lees is, if we want to categorise, an 'outsider artist' although sometimes he's labelled a 'folk artist'. He has had more than one snobby comment over the years, but lots of admiration too. Some of his work, including some of his extraordinary woodcarving, is available for sale in our Etsy Store, the 200 Year Old House

I won't waste too much time talking about this, or attempting the usual analysis of his intentions, but will just show you some pictures so that you can make up your own minds. He's currently working on a new, enormous and wonderful canvas, which is pretty much a companion picture to this one, titled End of Shift, one of his most popular images. The original of this sold long ago, but good prints are still available. 

End of Shift

And here's a detail:

I can't show you the new one yet, since he's downstairs working on it, even as I type this!  If you want to see more of his work, go to his website Alan Lees Artist. 

The End. Well, no, not quite.

At Dziedzilow

 Yesterday, after a few months of intensive work, I typed The End. Cause for celebration, but it isn't really the end. Maybe it's the end of the beginning. I'm writing a book called The Last Lancer about my grandfather, his milieu, his family and what became of them. It's a real family saga, a labour of love and it has been extraordinarily difficult and painful to write. 

The research has taken years. I did some of it decades ago, stopped, started again, stopped again. Then, during lockdown I organised my previous research: documents, pictures, photocopies, books, emails, translations, letters. Found out where the gaps in my knowledge were. Did more research. Was helped along the way by a few wonderful Polish people whose generosity with their time and expertise is beyond price. 

Two factors were also important. All of the main protagonists in this story are dead. Some of it is so very personal that I doubt if I could have done full justice to it while, for example, my father was still alive. His voice is in the book because he wrote down so much for me before he died. I have wished time and again that he was still here, so that I could ask him about all kinds of things, but still, it would have been difficult to write about times that must have been painful for him, events he had tried hard to forget. 

About six months ago, I started writing the book in earnest. I've finished the first draft. Now, the long  revision process begins. 

I almost wrote 'real work' instead of 'revision process' there. But I've done the real slog. Revising is hard, intensive work, but I love it. Once I have the first draft on screen, everything becomes a lot less difficult for me. Now, I can 'see' the whole thing, I know where where the problems are and where I'm going. I write to find out and that's why the first draft is so often like pulling teeth, especially in a piece of complicated reflective historical non fiction like this, and perhaps especially so when the historical aspects are very personal. 

I thought writing my previous book of this kind, A Proper Person to be Detained, was difficult, and it was. But The Last Lancer is a whole other order of difficulty. And real, heartrending sadness.