I was struck by the lovely colour and old red bricks of this corner take-away in Hull’s Hessle Road, by the hints of exotic food, mixing with the briny air of the Humber. I felt a sense of history, my history, for I was born not far from here half a century ago. This work […]Read Post ›
This square work depicts architecture in Edinburgh’s New Town, a place I have grown up with, dipping in and out, visits, periods of residence, and in daydreams and memories. Hot, Scottish summers of childhood, tea and buttery scones in venues long gone, errands run, books bought, and buses caught. There is an Athenian timelessness about […]Read Post ›
South Tel Aviv has a reputation for being down at heel. Yet this simply adds to its Levantine fascination, its intoxicating aromas of oil and grease and heat, its cacophony of Middle Eastern music and traffic, the hum of green birds in sticky date trees, the pungency of cooking and damp wood. This small work […]Read Post ›
A bookshop in Amsterdam, a place of dreams, of floating letters and dusty spines, creaking floorboards that awaken one from reverie. Outside trams trundle past, thunderous chariots of light and speed, and above gables, home of gulls and pigeons, witness to centuries gone. A place of magic, of spells and mystery. Scents of parchment, incense, […]Read Post ›
The delicious, heady pleasure of a fish and chip shop on a cold afternoon. The tang of brine and the sharpness of vinegar, the age-old smell of batter and oil, warm paper and vats of chips. What does one choose, where do we start? There are meat pies with thick, almost chewy pastry, sausages of […]Read Post ›
The heat is strong, the light bright, the water icy cold and refreshing. A man relaxes by the side of a pool, under a blue sky. The afternoon stretches, indolent, without constraints. The work is rich in colour and warmth. A perfect gift, a great addition to a collection. Remember, it’s always 30% cheaper to […]Read Post ›
On a day of intense heat, when the lizards alone ventured out, when the crickets sang, I ventured onto a terrace in Greece. The Mediterranean dazzled me, the sky made me squint. The walls were painted yellow, and some flowers grew in pots. The air was scented with bougainvillea, with oleander and pine. Brewing coffee, fresh pitta, […]Read Post ›
A pretty shop in France. Pink and fun; pretty and timeless. The sun is hot. The shadows are long. No one is around; it is time for lunch. The air is redolent of onion and garlic, of roast chicken and rosemary. The sound of a piano, the gentle chirping of birds. All is peaceful and […]Read Post ›
I am old enough to remember the Grassmarket as dark, insalubrious, filled with the ghostly magic of times past. It is different now, lighter, brighter, cleaner. Where smoky pubs once stood, figures nebulous behind frosted glass, there are a plethora of smart cafés and bars, throngs of visitors and the clinking of wine glasses. Still, […]Read Post ›
I love London’s mews. Little corners of peace, cobbles that still ring to ghostly hooves. Here London belongs to me once more. The shadows keep patches of cool shade, and mysterious windows look down on me. I imagine how wonderful it would be to live here, to tend a little urban garden of potted plants and fragrant […]Read Post ›
