Rock

I fiddled and faddled with my camera and various filters to take this photo of a rock in  pond! No I have not lost my mind completely -  there is a reason for it.

Then I did this, which seems even more mad!

Can anyone show how smart they are by leaving a post guessing what this little montage is all about?

National Park

We decided to have a drive through the Northumberland National Park. It's strange that you take your surroundings for granted. Northumberland is a truly beautiful place.

 

It is truly a powerful place and you can feel the brutal history of the land with the Border Reivers. I'll probably have a visit to the major construction of the north - the world famous Hadrian's wall soon. The weather'll have to break though.It's terribl at the moment and the visibility will be next to nothing

I had a little exhibition of my digital montages at a local gallery set up by some of the student body. It was wittily named 'Put your Art into it. I thought I'd put my latest piece up here. Any feedback would be great -do you 'get it?

I Want It Now

 

     I Want it Now!

 

            How many times have we heard this uttered, or more likely screamed, by a child in a supermarket? Whether it’s the latest toy, or a bag of sweets you hear “I want it now”? When I was a child I was told “I wants never gets”, and had to, politely, say that I would like something. We mustn’t lay the blame on the little ones, it is as the cliché goes, the fault of the parents. It is a cliché, but often clichés become so because they have much truth to them. Should we then place the blame firmly on the shoulder of the parent? My immediate answer would be yes, because the child will imitate the parent.

            However, there is a new movement in society, which affects parents, that everything has to be available for use now, immediately and 24 hours a day. Supermarkets are a prime example. I have yet to go shopping at 4am, but I know that it is available. This is probably of great value to the growing “speed generation”. They can go shopping when no-one else is out and scan their own goods without having to resort to interaction with a shop-keeper. Whatever happened to the good old corner shop, where you’d get your papers and have a bit of a gossip about Mrs. Smith, down the road?

            Speed and convenience is what happened. Supermarkets have started selling everything, so there is no need to go to separate shops, such as butchers and the grocers; you can get everything you want in one place. This is what has killed the corner shop; the lone shopkeeper cannot possibly stock all the items a supermarket sells, and if he could then he would have to be completely dedicated to his cause and be able to remain awake 24 hours a day.

            The fascination with speed and being there now can be seen on the roads. As traffic volume increases and people fight over pieces of road in their desperate attempts to reach the supermarkets, which are open all night anyway, that ugly phrase ‘road rage’ rears up and people are thrashing each other on the high street. That’s another thing; what used to be called assault or disturbing the peace has to have a fancy name or syndrome attached to it. While the drivers are suffering from ‘road rage’, the shoppers are suffering from ‘trolley rage’. This used to be simply termed losing your temper to the point of assaulting someone. Why give names to unacceptable behaviour to make it sound less offensive? All of this rage is generally caused by someone wanting something now; either a stretch of road or a pound of potatoes.

            What is the ultimate in convenience and bad-manners? It has to be the mobile phone. Now don’t get me wrong I have a phone myself and use it quietly in a corner somewhere, if I really need to speak to someone. What is it that makes people shout in the middle of a busy street that they are in fact on a busy street? Do they perhaps think that the technology doesn’t carry their voice, but is carried on the wind through sheer volume alone? I’m sure most readers have been speaking to someone whose phone rings. Instead of continuing the conversation they stop you and explain that they ‘have to take this’. This is the equivalent of someone approaching you, tugging at the other person’s sleeve and chanting ‘talk to me now’ over and over again.

            The now generation is upon us and it seems unlikely to change. It has destroyed our shops and is now helping to destroy the centre of British life; our good manners.

Beckie and the sheep

We have a beautiful Border Colllie called Beckie and she is fabulously well behaved, except when it comes to playing fetch. When she's in the mood she'll bring wellies, blankets, bits of wood etc, but she loves her ball to the point where you can't say it in front of her or she goes mental. If anyone can  tell me what pleasure a sheep dog gets from chasing balls. There are sheep loose here and the most she does is go and lick their noses. And when the cat gets her ball she wont't go and get it she runs round in circles until we get the ball back.

Local Farm

A panorama of a local meadow in the summer. As a keen photographer I am keeping a visual journal over the year to see how the farm changes. Its a panorama. so you'll need to scroll around it. for those who are interested it is several pictures stitched together using Serif Panorama 47

Wonders

Well thanks to the wonders of technology - no wide angle lens I thought I'd share this photo. Best viewed large because it looks blurred when small for some reason..No wide angled lens - about 16 photos stitched together.

Photos again

Anyone who takes photographs on a regular basis will know the frustration of not being able to get a wide enough shot, even with a wide angle lens. I got a piece of software called Panorama from Serif. It wasn't expensive and I didn't hold out much hope for it to be  honest, but I felt like getting myself a little gift and this seemed a good idea. I have no idea how it does what it does, but it does it well.The picture below was 15 photos stitched together, showing a favourite park of mine.

Photography

Well, I'm developing an interest in photography. I always used to just point and shoot, but it seems a waste of a decent SLR so I armed myself with some books and magazines an headed into the garden to photograph the birds. They didn't seem keen so I've come to the conclusion that I'll practice on landscapes. Not that these are straightforward, as I have found in my painting. I felt a trip to the coast was in order and off we went to St Mary's Lighthouse to take some shots. I couldn't get any closer because there is no car access and I still can't walk very well because of my knees. Anyways - here's what I got. As a limited photographer I'm learning to play with the shots I take. I'll put one of those in as well.

It's odd

It's odd that impressing a parent can still be important when you're 40 years old. I'm doing a hypnotherapy course and my dad is impressed at each essay or set of questions that I get right. More important to me is a painting that I did of a city beneath a morning sun

Weird

A little weirdness for the weekend

Back again

Sorry been missing for a while what with ill health and trying to get the magazine going. I allowed myself an art day at the Laing. Was nearly knocked out by a painting I've not seen before by John Charlton. The photo doesn't do it justice. When you're in front of it you feel as though you're going to be trampled. 

Car hassle and salvation

Don't worry this isn't a religious post. Our car was a wreck and we don't have the money to replace it. We. Live in the middle of nowhere with hardly any buses so a car is vital. Unfortunately my grandfather has suffered from glaucoma for a number of years. Now they say he can't drive and what did he do? He offered to give it to my father. It's not posh but it's a lovely little car that uses less petrol. We're going to try and sell ou old car for spares or repair. Just a little story during the day to hopefully make you smile.

Getting around

Having had a hip replacement and now arthritis in the kne I have trouble getting around. A wheelchair is no use as I live on a farm. I've taken my quad for granted  but the truth is I wiouldn't be able to get about without it.

The Bastards!

This isn't really art, comedy or stupidity, mind there is some stupidity in there, like choosing the job in the first place and expecting to be liked. I am talking about traffic control wardens. There was a time when you'd get a bit of grace to be 10 minutes late, now the bastards hide behind lamp posts, wait for you to leave and stick a ticket on.


I watched a documentary on them in the hope of seeing one or two getting a slapping, but no such luck. It wouldn't be so bad if they were decent human beings, but they really are arse holes. One of the plaques on their office wall suggested slapping on the ticket and getting away as soon as possible. So, they're cowards too. I went into the town one night with my dad to pick up a takeaway. The taxis were lined up, blocking the parking spaces so my dad parked in a taxi rank. We were away 5  minutes and some twat had put a ticket on. The documentary also said you should contest your case as apparently the success rate is fairly high. He has a blog on the subject, but I can't remember the name off hand. Anyway, I agree, contest your fine and show what a useless shower of bastards these people are!

Stupidity

This is kind of a mix between stupidity and comedy. I live on a farm quite happily, though I'm not a farmer (you work it out). I have a quad and off road 250 bike. I was happily riding the bike through a field I'd not been through before; the sun was shining and the grass was high, so high that the ground looks level. Have you ever had that sickening feeling when you just know you're going to hurt yourself? Well I didn't see the ditch til the last second, the front wheel dropped and I flew over the handlebars to land on my face. We had to get the quad to drag the bike out. I got concussion and whiplash but didn't break my spectacles!


I don't go in that field anymore - I think I used up my luck in that clatter!

No here

I've not been here for a while for a number of reasons. I'm starting a new magazine (you can see it at www.outdoorsne.co.uk). Then there's the maintenance of the magazine page and another page I run called www.treat-yourself.biz. I've also been in and out of hospital to have a cyst removed from inside my jawbone. so don't give up on me yet, have a look at the other sites

Country Boy

I feel I may have neglected my blogs over recent weeks. First of all I'm having complications after my hip replacement - my knees are acting up and I have been diagnosed with gout which isn't as funny as I think it sounds. Add this to the fact that this Friday I am in hospital for surgery on an impact tooth with a cyst on it and you will tell that my mind has been elsewhere. It also occurred that I haven't told you anything about where I live..

I have always considered myself to be a bit of a country boy, growing up in a rural village; the surrounding fields and woodlands were my playground when I was a child. Unfortunately the rural village has become a small town and I have long since left it behind. My next home was also what I would call rural – it was right next door to a farm and the tractors would often be seen and heard moving up and down the street on their various errands. Oh yes I was a country boy.

            Well as all things in nature change, so did my life and personal habitat, through a series of unfortunate events that are not necessary for the telling of this story. I found myself in my father’s house, a farm cottage in rural Northumberland. I very quickly had my preconceptions of my countryside heritage challenged. The relative isolation caught me completely off guard. Gone were the noisy neighbours and the sound of speeding cars and trucks; this was quiet with a capital Q.

            Gone was my leisurely stroll to the local pub; I now had to rely on a lift to get my refreshment; though this was no great loss, because the country pub (my new local) was to be a friendly and welcoming place. A log stove burning in the corner, fighting off the winter chill and providing an ideal platform for the roasting of chestnuts as we move towards Christmas. The same friendly faces and happy banter provide the perfect accompaniment to the odd pint.

            The friendly hospitality can also be found on the farm. The people living around us always say hello and enquire after everyone’s health. When summer comes around there are a good number of barbecues to be invited to, where the food and drink flows freely. After the dishes are cleared away it is time to sit, chat, reflect and wait for the bats to come out on their nightly rounds. There are a number living under the stone lintel of the farm cottage, and as if an alarm has sounded they emerge one after another in pursuit of their prey.

            The farm cat, in a wonderful display of hopeful futility tries to catch the bats as they zip past him. His method is simple, and wholly unsuccessful. He jumps, turns himself on his back in midair, waves his paws about and lands back on his feet, with an expression that says simply “what did I do?” The same cat could often be found lying inside the bird table. It is possible to imagine him lying there, mouth agape, waiting for an unfortunate bird to fly into his jaws. Of course it never happened, but the image will stay with me for some time.

            As the bats flit about it begins to get dark. This is another thing that catches me by surprise; just how dark it gets. I was used to the orange glow of sodium vapour lamps; out here it is only the glow of the moon and the brightness of the stars that break up the night sky. An owl hoots close by and there on the chimney top is the silhouette of a tawny owl; standing alert, watching, taking little notice of we people. This is its time – its habitat, we are only observers.

            Darkness moves in and it is time to call it a night and head for bed. A light rustling and a confused “moo” seems to come from nearby. That seems really close to be one of the farm cattle I think as I half drift off to sleep. I thought I must have been hearing things. However the next morning the evidence suggested otherwise. Right in the middle of the lawn was a huge cow pat. None of the garden furniture was disturbed, the bird table remained upright and all was well in the garden, except for the one little gift.

            The constant contact with livestock and the abundance of wildlife has been a continual source of entertainment and joy, but there was to be a new arrival. A goat was found running down the middle of a busy road in Newcastle upon Tyne. Quite how the beast came to be running down the road remains a mystery. There was some speculation that it was to be used in some sacrificial ceremony, but the truth will probably never be known.

            Anyway, through someone who knew someone, the goat came to the farm. It was put into the small field just behind the cottage, with a little shelter. This goat had other plans though – it simply would not stay where it was put. It wanted to be around people. Escaping on a nightly basis it would make its way down to the back door of the cottage and demand to be petted like a dog. I once made the mistake of  leaving the doors open and the goat roaming free, while I went to get something from the house. On my way back out I was faced with a goat standing expectantly in the living room. I eventually managed to encourage the animal outside, but it demanded attention, gently butting my leg until I stroked it. I couldn’t help but wonder if this happened anywhere else, and how fortunate I was to be there. Eventually the goat was to move on to another farm because of its mischievous behaviour, and by latest information she is perfectly happy in her new home.

            Wild visitors have also played a large part in my countryside education. The cats are let out to roam the farm on an evening, and one evening one of them was paying unusual interest towards the bin. There was a squeaking sound and the cat would jump back, then move forward again, head down, investigating something. Curiosity as to what could be making the cat behave like that made me investigate. There, trapped between our cat and the cottage wall was a young rabbit. The cat was intrigued by it, but needless to say the interest in being friends was not mutual. After some gentle encouragement, the cat was moved away and the rabbit made good its escape.

            Hedgehogs are also regular visitors during the summer. Sitting quietly in the garden there will be a snuffling, snorting noise as the little creatures make their rounds of the garden. The cat food left outside for them was not good enough for one brave visitor, who decided the food bowls inside the house were far more appealing. Snorting and snuffling it took the bemused cat’s food from right under its nose.

            I may have had a basic idea of countryside life as a child, but it was not preparation for the reality of truly rural life. The camaraderie, the constant surprises, the wonderful wildlife, the peace and tranquillity and the fantastic surroundings are all to be appreciated. When I get closer to home, as the road narrows and the hedges seem to move in, and the majestic trees spread their branches, I begin to relax and feel that I have returned to civilisation, rather than having left it.

What is art?

A TV programme, book and DVD have all fired the question into my brain; what is art? What is it that makes something artistic?


Does it have to be beautiful? Not necessarily, some of the greatest works of art deny their own beauty by horrendous content. Is the crucifixion beautiful? Far from it, but it is a significant record for the religious and the painting itself may be skilful. So is art skilful painting? Seemingly not by some artists (personal opinion, sorry!). Is art provocative? Usually, but does skilful and provocative painting make art? This is one answer, but I'm sure someone else would come up with a different definition.


A personal opinion about Matisse and Picasso is that while they provoke I don't see much skill any greater than a school child, but then I may well be missing something?


The Mona Lisa, one of the most valued works of art in the world and I have to admit I'm not keen on it - I just don't get the hype. One thing is Van Gogh includes a background perspective and I believe he was the first to do this with a portrait.


What is art to you? I have a tattoo of the Fairbairn Sykes dagger on my forearm because I feel it is the finest fighting knife ever created and is still used today after its creation in the World War. Is it art? Is a real one art? Some knife enthusiasts would readily compare top knife makers to any world class artist. It seems that art is a very personal thing, but is the essence of it that it means something or strikes an almost inaudible chord within each of us?