Iris

Untiteled, 2008
113x83cm
pastel, pressed charcoal, watercolour on paper

I first saw this painting by Iris van Dongen in the Museum Van Loon, Amsterdam. Hanging on a wall of this 17th century merchants house, alongside portraits of this era, I was captivated.

The work of Iris van Dongen is described as aiming to capture how the body and soul interact, rather than the look of the person. Much of her work are intense portraits of women (artmap).

In an interview about her work for Dazed, van Dongen says "my work comes from my own dreamworld, which doesn't really relate to my direct surroundings."

Is the woman in the painting a dishonest woman? Who is to know...  I think her stare makes her an honest woman.

No, I didn't choose this song because of the title - it happens to be my favourite song and this version seems to match this painting perfectly.

Bruegel's peasant temptation

From Museo del Prado

Coming across a Bruegel painting I haven't seen before is rather exciting. This is The Wine of Saint Martin's Day. It's a crowded scene, typical of Bruegel, with a theme of gluttony. The hordes clammer up a giant red wine keg at the back of charitable Saint Martin. There is also a pick-pocket stealing - from a woman with two children in the centre front of the painting. Two men are fighting while another couple are dancing. A mother gives her baby a sip of wine. In the bottom right hand corner two men do not appear to be able to handle their alchol - one looks worse for wear while the other appears to lay in his own vomit.

It was discovered by the Prado museum in Spain in 2010 and has now been attributed to Pieter Bruegel the Elder. Given there are only 41 Bruegels surviving in the world today, it was a discovery indeed. It had originally been attributed to his son but after cleaning aspects of the artwork have been identified as characteristic of the father. At 148cm × 270.5cm, it is his largest painting.

It does seem to fit with Bruegel's fascination with peasant life and their leaning towards excesses. He appears to have much to say in this painting about the effects of greed and gluttony. In the bottom right are two cripples who don't appear to be getting any wine. It's definitely a free for all, people trampling over each other to get to the keg. There is a roadside cross but the peasants don't seem to notice. 

Free wine - perhaps the temptation was too much?

Up, down, turn around
Please don't let me hit the ground
Tonight I think I'll walk alone
I'll find my soul as I go home

Gelato in Venice

So I'm chatting with a friend recently and we're reminising over a trip to Venice some twelve years ago. I recall sitting on the Piazza San Marco late at night; we'd been to a Vivaldi concert earlier, were probably eating gelato (we ate a lot of gelato that trip).  Just kicking back and watching the world slowly pass by. I took this photo as we sat there. 

My friend says yes, he remembers sitting in the square - a couple dancing, and then another couple having a loud argument. I think the guy threw her suitcase into the canal, I add.

But the more I think about the scene I'm not quite sure. In one version she throws his suitcase into the canal and in another he's doing the throwing. But there's another version again where he tells her that he threw her suitcase into the canal, but actually didn't do it. There was definitely a lot of shouting but the more I try to recall the actual events the more my memory fails me.

My friend can't help - he can still hear me laughing but doesn't recall the suitcase aspect. But he kindly says it's a great dramatic touch and offers to add it to his memory.

So I'm wondering, does my poor memory make a dishonest woman of me?

Following footsteps

According to legend, in 563 St Columba travelled from Ireland to Scotland with twelve companions in a wicker boat covered with leather. They first landed near Southend (12 miles across the Irish sea) on the Kintyre Peninsula, before moving onto Iona. St Columba's Chapel lies within Keil Cemetery and a rocky outcrop carries a footprint believed to be that of St Columba. Just outside the cemetery is a well, apparently with healing qualitites.

As for the caves close by: a 1881 census reported 2 families living in the caves. One of the caves is called Piper's Cave; legend has it that a bagpipe player disappeared while on his way home one evening, past the caves. Apparently you can sometimes hear his ghost playing pipes.

Patience

The sign on the door reads 'Be Patient' but the door opens as soon as I knock. 
‘After a pitch?’ says a short, stocky woman.
‘That’s right.’
‘Ohhh,’ she replies, shaking her head of tight grey curls.
‘Booked out?’ 
I’m disappointed, the spot's perfect, just as described on the internet nestled between two mountains at the edge of a loch.
‘Oh no, not that. Rain. Pretty muddy down there. Best take a look before you decide.’
 
Down by the loch it is rather muddy... and windy, although others seem brave enough to chance it. And there's a sheltered spot further back at the bottom of a ridge that seems okay. 
I head back, knock and wait. 

 

‘It’s fine, we’ll stay,' I say when the door opens.
‘You sure?’ 
I suspect she is assessing me for hardiness. My hair could do with a brush and having been travelling for a few days now, I doubt I’m looking at my best.
‘Yep we’re sure.’ Besides, this is Scotland, I doubt we’re going to escape the wet weather.
‘There’s midges,’ she informs me.  
‘We have repellent.’
‘A lot of midges.’
I know midges and don’t much like them, but am not going to be put off by the little blighters. 
‘We’ll cope.’
She sighs, ‘alright then. How many nights?’
‘5 please.’
She gives me that worried look again. ‘5 you say?’  
‘Yep 5.’
‘Ohhhh… not sure that’s a good idea. Best pay for 2 and then rebook.’ 
‘I’m sure we’ll stay for 5 nights.’ 
She shakes her head, ‘all the same. I’d rather not give refunds.’
‘Alright then, 2 it is.’

We head on down and set up. There’s a break in the rain and the sun is shining... and there's no sign of any loch monsters. Then I realise I forgot to buy any wifi connection. 
I trek on back.
‘Yes dearie?’ she asks.
‘Just after some wifi,’ I reply. 
‘Ohhhh,’ she says with that, now familiar, shake of tight grey curls. 
'No?'
‘Well, you see, not sure that’s a good idea.’ 

(we stayed for 2 nights - driven out by midges and rain)

Islay

no words - just my soundtrack to driving around the island....

Keil Hotel

'What is that?' I wondered out loud. An art deco building, literally in the middle of nowhere - okay, more on the edge of almost nowhere - well, a reasonable distance from any sea side town that you'd expect to see such a place.

'Hotel,' my companion suggested. 'Or a block of flats.'

'Nah, who'd build a hotel out here? Maybe an old sanatorium?'

But there were no boards to tell of its history and with definite signs of life (plastic child's swing out the front), I was curious. It was in a state of disrepair - windows missing, some boarded up - it looked right off the pages of an Agatha Christie novel. 

So off to the internet for some answers... 
The Art Deco building is attributed to James Austin Laird and the original owner is believed to have been Captain James Taylor. The hotel was requisitioned almost immediately after it opened in 1939 by the Navy and used as a hospital.  After the war the hotel reopened, by two sisters so it seems, and had some success. It changed hands numerous times over the years before closing in 1990. Apparently the proprietors ripped out plumbing and electrics, leaving gaping holes in the walls and ceilings. 

Okay - not a dark desert highway - nor California - but definitely made me think of this song...

The dishonest women in Scotch Verdict

Written by Lillian Faderman, Scotch Verdict is the true story of two schoolmistresses in Edinburgh 1811, and their suit for libel against a damning allegation. Accused of having sex together, and witnessed by a student, the allegations would ultimately destroy their livelihood as well as their reputations.

But I am interested in the dishonest women within this story – the only difficulty being, it’s not exactly clear who - or even if - there is a dishonest woman involved. There is the student who claims the schoolmistresses engaged in sexual acts while sharing her bed. But perhaps her claims were more due to a vivid imagination than fact? Especially in the 19th century, it was not unusual for female friends to share a bed or be overly affectionate. And her claims seem almost unbelievable – more from the pages of an elicit pornographic novel of the time than a respectable Christian woman.

As for the schoolmistresses, rather than leaving Edinburgh to avoid the shame that would ensue from such allegations, they chose to sue for libel. On first consideration, it doesn’t seem the actions of a guilty party, but then the situation is not straightforward. It seems the women were lovers. Although it seems unlikely, by our 21st century standards, for two women to take such a risk of being discovered, but perhaps in the 19th century it would have seemed very different.

All of this had me thinking about dishonesty. If the young girl truly believed that the women were engaged in a sexual act while lying next to her, even if misguided by confused or naive ideas - perhaps she did build upon her suspicions in a hope to leave the school – but is she dishonest to tell her grandmother of such a deed? The grandmother’s concern is understandable, however her action to remove the child and inform other parents, without confirming the facts first, is not. And the schoolmistresses, is it dishonest to conceal something so inherent in their nature, but so unacceptable in their society? Did they really have much choice?

Stone to stone

Across the water, stepping stone to
stone. Sea swirls all
around, edged with cappuccino foam.
To hesitate is to fall.
My footing unsteady, but the view
tempting.
So I pause, just for a moment.
In the distance Jura, Islay
And Northern Ireland.
So close, yet too far to reach
by stones. Besides, socks are wet.
Water over black rocks,
over shoes.
Cannot go visiting with wet shoes and socks.
I look back to sugary sand.
Water has begun to claim the beach.
So I turn, stepping stone to
stone.

© The Dishonest Woman 

Coal mining museum

Silent mine, run by concrete men.

© The dishonest woman

Scrambled eggs

I see some scrambed eggs in a bowl,
and some cereal in a plate.
I see a monkey in the sea,
and a fish in a tree.
Then I see some peas in a pen,
and a chicken in a pod... or is it a pot.
Am I dreaming or am I not?
I see a mouse in a vest,
And a sprout in a case.
Then I see a pirate in a suit,
and a giraffe in a cot.
Am I dreaming or am I not?
I see a man in a pram,
and a dog walking a cat.
Then I see a baby driving a car,
and a pen drawing a dot.
Am I dreaming or am I not?

by S. aged 10. 

(too much Jeroen Bosch exposure, I wonder... )

Carnival on the seas

Apparently a group of puffins is called a circus, and a puffin is often referred to as the clown of the sea. Given my interest in Carnival, my interest in this rather odd little bird was suddenly piqued.
 
Bass rock is home to over 150,000 gannets - that's a lot of birds, meaning that the chances of getting....

'Ah, don't worry hen,' said the Scotsman opposite, 'it'll bring you good luck.'
 
Hmmm. Can't say I felt particularly lucky. Nor did referring to me as poultry help the situation.

Sitting on benches

I’m sitting on a bench on the side of a cliff, looking out over an empty beach, a tranquil sea. It’s 9pm, still light with the sun just setting, casting a gentle red hue. I have my good buddy for company. We don’t say much, content to sit side by side, and reflect.

There are quite a few benches tucked into the side of the cliff, and despite the silence, it’s a busy evening.

A young couple with a baby have claimed the bench at the utmost top of the cliff. They fuss over their new addition; laugh as they try to take family selfies.

Half way down a woman sits with her legs crossed, eyes closed and humming. I think she’s meditating.

An old man makes his way to the top before selecting an empty bench. He lowers himself down slowly. His head eventually drops forward; I think he’s nodded off.

Another woman sits down on the bench next to mine. She also has a dog, small and fluffy. Our canines greet enthusiastically, as only dogs do, but we find it sufficient to simply acknowledge each other with a smile.

Eventually I will make my way back… but for now, I’m happy to sit and ponder.