Sunday, November 29, 2009
The sun came out yesterday.
It was lovely.
The sky was blue with only a few fluffy clouds skittering about and the rain fell down just a couple of times.
Hysterical with the brightness of the day, we abandoned the usual, humdrum activites that occupy a Saturday and hightailed it down to the seaside.
We motored through the familiar landscape that was now, due to the bucketting down of the last 3 weeks, strangely unfamiliar. We made several detours around large turloughs that have been lying dormant for the last decade or so, waiting patiently for their chance to glisten.
We had the flaggy shore to ourselves; listening to the docile lapping of the water against the rocks, feeling the salty sea air sweeping the cobwebs out of our moisture-sodden minds, it was easy to be happy.
At 6pm we went to the exhibition. The invitation had arrived earlier in the week. He who would like to be obeyed, groaned. "Well, if you REALLY want to go ..."
He's not a great fan of the visual arts but he is quite tolerant.
Michael Gemmell was one of the artists. He's a quiet man with a colourful past.
It is difficult to do justice to the visceral wonder of the man's creativity. His work speaks for itself.
I'm not even going to try.
But every fibre of my being tingles with recognition.
art work: Flying Over by Michael Gemmell.