Matisse...hmmm...

'Matisse, Drawing with scissors' exhibition is under way.
In 1939 Matisse was aged 70, a divorce was forcing his artwork into store while French lawyers argued, he was seriously ill and probably not very happy.  By 1943 with war all around sickness still serious and who knows if the lawyers had finished as yet he took scissors and paper and cut out a figure of a man.  Adding a red heart he called this the 'Fall of Icarus,' read into that what you will.
He then went on to develop his scissors, paper and paint work and instead of dying as doctors said he should continued his work until he died in 1954.
The museum has an array of his work to temp the art lovers of the town, though most appear to be coming from elsewhere, and I had four who travelled in on Tuesday just for the exhibition.  It made a change from dead soldiers anyway.
I am not sure what any of us think about this. I only had a short look yesterday while setting up my area and while the colours are pretty it is not something I would travel to see.  Not that I would travel for much this man produced, to much late 19th and early 20th century modernism in his work, 'modernism' being another word for 'meaningless' in my mind all too often.  It has not set the staffs heather on fire but as long as folks come and see we will be happy. 

Our lass has been going around the schools and the kids have produced these frames which I think are better, and more colourful, than the old man's work.  They mean as much and probably brought the kids more enjoyment than that achieved by Matisse in his workshop.

This has to do with Christmas...

Quiet Monday

Some semblance of normality returns to the world today.  Already the remembrance events have fallen down the newspaper page, royalty, celebs, politics and nobody's return to the forefront.  
I suspect many who ventured out to a remembrance ceremony yesterday will fail to make it next year, but maybe I am cynical...?
At least I was able to aid two or three people with info on their family, some family rumours dispelled and others connected to men they never knew but will never now forget.  These people will remember next year.

 
Global warming continues to keep this area full of sunshine, ending only as evening came on, and promising more tomorrow.  My one time dream of living in the joy of happy sunshine filled California besides al the rich folks will never happen now, not just because I am poor but because global warming has destroyed the place.  The cynic rises again and thinks it would be better destroying Las Vegas or such like rather than all these rich folks houses in the woods but maybe that's just me.  Such fires appear to be all too common in a state with poor water management and too many trees.  The land will recover but whether the people will is another thing.

A vain attempt to clean the house ended when I had hoovered the floor and poured bleach into the sinks.  It was all too much to do anything else, such work gets done and then needs done almost immediately again, something ought to be done about it, but I just put it aside and will do it tomorrow...

Remembrance 2018

Remembrance 2018 followed the usual pattern however many more people wished to offer wreaths this year, possibly because of the centenary.  The meeting was therefore longer but most remained until the end.

I asked to take pictures of this man's medals.  So many covering a wide range of places servicemen  have been sent to in recent years.  He also has been awarded several long term medals also.  Such men risk their lives daily but we tend not to know about them.   

Then it was off to the parish church for a service.  I missed out having been involved this morning, two was acceptable not three!  Then as they participants gathered the piper played a lament.

Remembrance Continues

On Friday I sauntered out because the BBC Weather forecast was for gray clouds.  I took this picture from underneath one of the wonderful trees planted in the 1800's for one of the Courtauld's.  The public gardens were then part of his garden donated to the town amidst much celebration, fireworks plus bonfire and drinking I suspect.   The trees planted were many and various and the result was something the gardener responsible never saw which is a pity as they are marvellous.  They also keep the big black cloud that drops gallons of water on people at bay.  Interesting how the man driving the grass cutter went faster as the rain got heavier.

This morning, minus rain, I went to the main parish church where a war exhibition was on.  One interesting aspect was putting these notes, each of a name from the war memorial, on the pews.  This brings home to people the cost of war and how it affected the town.  An excellent idea.  Another good idea was the show of pictures and letters from relatives of those who attend the church being put on display.  Many survived, one in five remember died during 14-18, and the letters give an insight concerning those who were there.  The stiff upper lip is rare today as is the normal practice of the terms 'Mother' or 'Father' for parents, we are more informal today.

I thought it a wonderful display with a wide variety of items covering all sides in the war.  The rat sniffing at the tins of 'Bully beef' was a nice touch and I was glad no lice were running free at the time, if there were I suspect tomorrows service will be interesting. 

 This I found interesting, it is a field kitchen.  A Frenchman invented this during the Crimean war (that's 1854 to you) and it has been in use ever since.  This one was made in the early 50's and they were used until recently when other means are employed.  The MOD keeps a store of them in reserve still.  A simple yet effective means of heating a large amount of stew/soup or whatever is lying around.  The wood goes in the hole at the side, the soup in the top where a large removable pot contains the goods and the smoke goes up the chimney, simple and effective, all great inventions are always simple.  This belongs to one of the church goers at this church, he has a Nissen hut, a trench and a wide variety of other war material at home.  I must visit one day!  Good job his lovely wife shares his enthusiasm!

 
As expected there is a window given to commemorate the men who fell, donated by a local worthy who spent much of his money on the town and worked hard as a councillor, and he was a powerful one, to improve things.  These days rich people keep their money to themselves.

Rushing home slowly through the centre I found the British Legion stand was still there from yesterday.  This time a lass sang, and sang very well, songs from the 40's to accompany the people ignoring her, not counting the mother dancing with a toddler.  I chatted with one of our 'heroes' for a while and with another who was there yesterday.  These ex-army men, who fought no war, just army bureaucracy and senior officers, were a delight to talk to.  A great many people of all ages were interested.

One of the men had created these models, you cannot see the legs sticking out from under the tank unfortunately, but I thought them a wonderful piece of work.

A wonderful collection.  Mind you I sometimes wonder about those that collect weapons.  These men understand them, they have personal meaning to them but there are others who one sometimes regards as somewhat barmy and it may be best they don't have weapons on them, even broken ones.  Back home to discover more people asking info on their great uncle or whatever.  There is a joy in discovering a connection to a name on a memorial, a strange joy but I understand this.  There may be more in days to come.  Tomorrow it is St Paul's remembrance service, I have supplied some info, and then the town gathering at the memorial in the afternoon.   You might read about that tomorrow...

Research...

With the rain dampening spirits outside it is good to sit around this grubby, unswept, somewhat littered accommodation and rest my weary bones.  It has been a bit trying physically as I have been attempting to cycle, exercise and work and now wish not to do anything far from the laptop.  
Yesterday was a busy time at the museum.  The shop has begun to attract the browsing fraternity, the ones who come in, touch, feel, hum, hah!, and wander around the shop and walk out without buying.  There is also those who do buy, we smile at them, and many who came in yesterday for one of our many local books or to ask a query of some sort.  I ended up with several queries yesterday some of which could be answered.  I was a little irked that one photo of a local man has turned out not to be who we thought it was.  The cap badge looked good but on closer inspection it is clear he was from the Northamptonshire regiment.  This irked me when I discovered their regimental museum was under the control of the council who were rebuilding the museum in which it was stored and are not taking any queries until work is completed in 2020!  While I understand this it is not helpful!

A film show in the afternoon was bringing in around 50 people.  This was film a local man took on 8mm from the 60's till he died some years ago, many come to see this and look for themselves in the picture!  By person or by phone they came all morning, interrupting my work, I have nearly finished that book now.   Over all it was a good day, I never argued with anyone, folks from a wide area, including the States, passed through sort of happy, and those that went round the museum had  a good time in spite of the mess created by changing from one exhibition to another.  Of course I never got my tea until 11:30 and with people coming in it was tepid by the time I got to it!  

One chap informed me of his relation to a name on one of the memorials and just had to tell someone.  His great uncle was killed at Arras and this sent me searching more info on him and where he fell.  Another attack that succeeded until it failed and they fell back somewhat daunted.  Arras was a battle the British forces won but in the southern end they face the strongest German defences and lost out.  General Allenby was replaced after this and sent to the Middle East. Some say Sassoon had Allenby in mind with this poem.

The General

By Siegfried Sassoon

“Good-morning, good-morning!” the General said

When we met him last week on our way to the line.

Now the soldiers he smiled at are most of 'em dead,

And we're cursing his staff for incompetent swine.

“He's a cheery old card,” grunted Harry to Jack

As they slogged up to Arras with rifle and pack.

But he did for them both by his plan of attack.    
Poetry Foundation

Sabbath Tale.

The Last 100 Days Battle is continuing tonight.  In the distance explosions abound and more will follow later I suspect.  There were plenty of fireworks last night and I suspect a few tomorrow also the weather will be mild and fire crews overworked.  It does enhance the remembrance events however, one thing never absent during the war was noise.  Noise from big guns and the rushing of shells overhead, noise from explosions, machine guns rattle and rifle patter adding to the screams and yells form men all around.  The silence after eleven on the day war ended surprised many. 
Having a baptism at church this morning gave us an idea of warfare in a different manner, hundreds of children appeared, at least there may not have been hundreds but it sure felt like it.  Screams and shouts, yells and laughter, lots of laughter, and fun all around.  This would never have happened in the church I went to as a child!

Amazon

How churches once were is found deep into this H.V.Morton book.  Morton travelled around Scotland (possibly during 1927/8 as the book is published 1929) and at one point high in the highlands he comes across a Scottish Sabbath!  This he found was a strange place for a Londoner.  He foolishly walked across the street expecting the chemist to sell him goods even though the village was shut up.  Through a slightly opened door the chemist refused as it was not life or death.  Later he saw the man dressed in black frock coat, black hat, black gloves carrying a black bible heading solemnly towards the Kirk, as indeed did everyone else, all similarly dressed.  I suspect there was no music, just a prompt from the front as they sung through the psalms, solemnly.  This reminded me of a tale of a young man being taken dressed in a kilt, his father was an army officer, towards an Edinburgh church.  The town was quiet, little if any traffic in 1914, and as they passed they greeted those heading to similar churches as themselves which studiously ignoring those heading elsewhere. Ah the delight of the religion of 'agape!'  To be honest it is only in the last fifty years such walls have come down and churches, as here in this town, work together much more.  The baptism shows a clear divide between the regular attenders at this place and those who rarely touch churches, the visitors come dressed neatly for church, the regulars have a 'come as you are approach' and this is not always neatly dressed!  Still, the ten pence pieces dropped in the bag as it passes by always helps.  
Morton tends to be a bit dramatic in his writing.  The tales were put into the newspaper he worked for and worked up into a book and he had both audiences in mind as he wrote.  Hence we see him finding tales from long ago in the borders, ghosts and weird happenings that probably never happened mixed in with historical accuracy.  At each stop he finds a story from the past, often intriguing, all to often a bit romantic, but well worth a read.  In Edinburgh, Glasgow, Skye and Aberdeen he roves around revealing something of the country in the period after the war, a war in which he participated and as such recognises old soldiers and the power of the new war memorials that abound by his time.  Not long after this of course the great depression settled in bringing with it another war.  The book is an interesting insight into the period, the accents, very strong then, and attitudes of the time.  It would be hard to enjoy a quiet walk in Skye these days when thousands of tourists clad in brightly coloured expensive anoraks fill the hills and ruin the experience they seek.

The Battle of Arras is continuing to the north, the Somme to the East and I am told Passchendale erupt at eight round the rugby club.  I may take to bed soon...