#yorkshire
Hiding in Plain Sight
My 70 Leeds cinema illustrations neatly bound into a brilliantly blue book!
The first title in the brand new Colours May Vary *Editions* series.
Each publication will document the exhibitions they have hosted as well as selected works from artists and designers they have worked with.
This book features 70 Leeds cinema illustrations I created to accompany the heritage project developed by the Hyde Park Picture House
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The book is an edition of 750 copies, each hand-numbered, with a select few signed by yours truly.
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If you would like to buy a copy head to the CMV website
I expect to sell copies myself at arts fairs in the near future!
Photography by Justin Slee
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2006: Wharfdale in the Yorkshire Dales. So picturesque, it hurts. Well-exposed limestone bedding from the Carboniferous Great Scar Limestone and Yoredale Beds giving a stepped profile in the once glaciated valley. Canon EOS 350D
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Pheasant
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#illustration #art #draw #biro #bic #biroart #artwork #drawing #handdrawn #artist #illustrator #drawnbyhand #blackandwhite #pen #penandink
#pheasant #grouse #game #wildlife #woodland #woodlandtrust #fowl #guineafowl #yorkshire #yorkshireartist #nature #rspb #bird #birdart #linework (at London, United Kingdom)
https://www.instagram.com/p/CPYX9Sil1YL/?utm_medium=tumblr
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“My name is Graham Snowdon. I am now 75 years old and retired, but I was the second of three generations of our family to run Snowdon Sports, one of Britain’s longest established sports news agencies which still counts cycle racing among its specialist areas. Dick Snowdon, my father, founded the business in Doncaster in 1936, and by the 1950s and 1960s was Britain’s best known cycling journalist, operating from the first floor of the garage annexe at his home in Bessacarr. He was also a leading local official and for many years chairman of Doncaster Wheelers Cycling Club"
Read an really great article on cyclingstories here about Graham Snowdon’s cycle memories!
This week has thrown me further into a hole! While I’m digging out, have #OEDraw from 9/20:
DREAM-HOLE: (n.) Chiefly Eng. Regional (Glos. and Yorks.) A slit or opening in an external wall of a building.
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“Sid was a handful but we did have a laugh. He used to have trouble sleeping and would develop cravings for curries, sweets, anything. A couple of us were driving around Yorkshire with Sid one night, looking for sweets, and got hauled over for speeding”.
Photo © Bruno Ehrs, via Thomas Dellert
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A little Kitten in Downton-Abbey-Land
ENTRY NR 3 - DAYTRIP TO WHITBY
It’s been slightly more than week since I arrived in England and it took me until now to settle so far that I can write another entry to this blog.
Upon arriving in Manchester, my most wonderful friend Chealse granted me a few days of rest in her apartment in the city. After having lunch on Saturday with my Russian friend Anasatasia, who will study in Manchester from this month on, we drove to York on Sunday where we quickly unpacked my belongings before we went out for a delicious Sunday roast and some sightseeing.
I will not lie, the first two days weren’t easy. I felt quite alone and although there was much to see and visit, I felt a little bit overwhelmed with the new circumstances and environment. Nobody was there yet, but somehow I managed to find a few Asian girls who had spent their summer here, brushing up their English and now and then we met to stroll through the city and run some errands.
I have by now seen most of York’s city center, including the Minster, which can only be described as absolutely brilliant. I have walked the city walls (yes, you can indeed walk on top of them) and painted my own pottery, had delicious cupcakes and cream tea more than it could ever be healthy.
To make a long story short, I have settled just in time for the introduction weeks. Today almost all of my fellow students will arrive and tonight they have organized a Karaoke party I am looking most forward to attend.
Yesterday although, my new friend Joanne and me took a bus to Whitby, a small fisher town even further north than York. It takes more than two hours to get there by bus, but our journey through the foggy moorlands was at least as enjoyable as our time in Whitby itself. For those that have never heard of Whitby, Bran Stoker sojourned there for a summer and let himself be inspired by Whitby Abbey, an old monastery that Joanne and me visited towards the end of our day, to write his famous “Dracula”.
There is not much but ruins left on the cliff above Whitby, ruins that overlook the city like the spooky ghost of long forgotten times and almost disappear in the fog in the afternoon. One who has read Stoker’s Dracula will surely understand where the author found his inspiration, but for me the remains of the cathedral looked just like the decayed ruins of the Red Keep. I wonder whether Mister Martin has ever visited Whitby, or maybe one of the producers of the show, because Daenery’s stroll through the snowy and destroyed Throne room.
I slept through most of our drive back, but I still remember the sheep running free in the moor, grazing and looking at our bus with curiosity in their eyes. You couldn’t even see past a hundredth meters due to all the fog. It was brilliant.
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ENTRY NR 2 - MY BONFIRE HEART
My whole life fits into one big suitcase and two bags.
A suitcase I did not dare to close for a long, long while until wonderful Adrian somehow managed to calm me down and close it for me.
I probably packed too much. I’m sure there is stuff I will not need at York, and others things I will, but won’t take with me. I’m afraid I have forgotten something but I guess that’s a risk worth taking, I always get like this the night before I leave for any place.
My room is a mess and I still need to finish a painting tonight, so there are some hours of work before me, but first I need to thank all the people that made this summer so special and wonderful for me. There is my amazing gang consisting of Raphaela, Silke, Su, Ito and Isabella, there is my ‘little brother’ Adrian, whom I don’t think I will be able to live without. There is Lena, my childhood-bestie, Simone, Sasha and Abby whom I didn’t manage to see this summer, Julia, Cynthia and Saskia, whom I spent much too little time with and of course Marjolein, Barbara and Max who visited me this summer and truly made my days!
I have probably forgotten some. Like my wonderful parents and the team I work with at the restaurant. Of course the people at the post office who endured my ramblings about sending postcards to the Netherlands and ‘could you only post that tomorrow?’ and the owners of the small café that closed a week ago, who bake the best cake in the world. I will miss the evening biking tours and hiking excursions with my Dad and arguing with my Mom and just as I will miss Koblenz, the Vale of the Mosel and my room under the roof.
But now everything is ready for tomorrow and I start getting more and more nervous.
I can’t wait to meet with Chelsea and Anny, my Russian friend whom I got to know when we attended summer school in Cambridge four years ago, who I visited in 2011 in Moscow and haven’t seen since and miss like the world, we will have coffee on Saturday after a long Hobbit-marathon with Chelsea who will be so kind and pick me up from the airport in Manchester Friday night. Thankfully, my granny and grandpa agreed to get me to the airport at Cologne, so we will start in Koblenz at 11am and I will be in Manchester at 4pm (5pm in Germany/Netherlands). I really cannot wait anymore; I am so excited to start a new life in England!
I also contacted both my supervisors at the Department of Literature and the Department of Politics yesterday and it looks as if I will be taking the most awesome courses next term: Some about Middle Eastern Policy, US Power, UK Foreign Politics and World Economy. I hope it will all work out and my time there will be a lot of fun! Until school starts, I still want to go to London and use the weather to take some strolls in Yorkshire to feel a little bit like Mary Crawley. Let’s see what I can make of it all.
Until I board that plane to Manchester I will be listening to a lot of James Blunt, hence the title of this entry, in honor of my last, longer stay in Great Britain in Summer 2010 when Anny and I listened to his tunes every night before going to bed.
My life starts today (yet again).
