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Sunday, December 04, 2011

Expansive Days


FRIDAY 2ND DECEMBER

Where is the supressed hysteria that should be informing the staff as they approach a holiday?  OK, albeit a strange holiday in which we put in guest appearances at various points during our time off, but nevertheless a holiday.

There is no evidence of the smiling face, the lighter step the cheery aside which would tell one that there is a period of time when we do not have to come into this benighted place.  Nothing!  Most strange.

My time off is already being formed by visits to Barcelona for culture and consumerism.  The most intriguing activity is something that will push my comfort zone to its widest extent: a watercolour class.  I have, of course been inveigled into this by Suzanne who tempted me with the promise of a decent lunch, but I am already having misgivings, as my level of practical artistic ability is woefully low, especially when demonstrated in a public arena.

I think that being interested in the history of art makes it even more difficult to express yourself in any of the media that you have studied in the great art galleries of the bits of Europe that I have visited.  Watercolours, particularly are a very English area of expertise with the great exponents of the art towering over their foreign contemporaries in the eighteenth to the nineteenth centuries – arguably the only time in the history of art that British painting led the world!  And now me!  Continuing (or finishing) the Great Tradition!

I escaped going Christmas shopping last night.  A lucky escape, but I will not trust on my luck to continue indefinitely.  I do enjoy shopping – but with other shoppers, not with a person who regards shops as a necessary evil which should be used in a crudely utilitarian way and then spurned utterly.  This approach makes what is already a fairly stressful experience something of a torment when one’s natural inclination is to wander and gaze and handle and dawdle.

This “holiday” is the perfect time for the resurrection of the Christmas tree, but I would really like to buy something new to give me the impetus to decorate it!

SATURDAY 3RD DECEMBER

No lazing in bed for me – well a couple of hours extra, it is after all the weekend – and ready waiting on a cold station for the Barcelona train to come in.

A metro ride from the central station and I was outside El Corte Ingles on the Diagonal waiting for Irene to begin the Great Shop.

We were meeting to ransack a massive shopping centre on the Diagonal, ostensibly for Irene to amass the Christmas presents necessary to make her forthcoming visit to the UK a success.  She leaves on Christmas Eve so there is not much opportunity to rush into Tesco and find those little gifts to make the season supportable.

In something of a first I spent hours in the place and bought nothing.  I did however encourage Irene to get rid of a reassuringly large amount of cash!

The only time I was tempted was in an upmarket version of Habitat where I saw Cava glasses of original design with a fluted conical base and a vaguely tulip shaped top with an irregular rim.  How I resisted I know not, but my decision to leave the purchase “until later” ensured that they stayed in the shop as, by the time I left I was positively crucified with exhaustion!

The Lebanese meal was a restful and delicious interlude.

I might go back for the glasses.  There is parking near.

SUNDAY 4TH DECEMBER

Up even earlier today to get to Barcelona at a reasonable hour.  Well, an unreasonable hour considering this is the holiday weekend.

Today was given over to a watercolour class.  This was a suggestion of Suzanne, and one which I enthusiastically fell in with.  My enthusiasm was tested sitting in the shade on a cold but bright morning.

After a morning coffee with Suzanne in the sun I felt better.

The workshop was held in a friend’s flat.

The flat was on the third floor – without a lift.

Just before you sneer at what would appear to be a whimpish moan at a few steps, I would point out that we did not seem to get to the first floor for at least six flights of steep steps!  I would never, never, never live in such a place.  It is impossible not to feel trapped in such an environment.  Every movement has to be planned because forgetting something and “popping out” to get it is a major event!  I think that I would eat out every day for every meal, rather than drag food up x flights of steps when x tends to infinity!

The workshop (when I had got my breath back and was in a condition to make judgements) was excellent.  Christine, the teacher was a professional artist and she used her knowledge to take us, gently and easily through an amount of information that I would be proud to have conveyed to my pupils in any of my lessons.

We stuck down our paper to the worktable and progressed, under her watchful guidance, to experiment with washes of wet on wet; wet on dry; crayon masking; scrubbing; using sponges; using salt crystals and, my personal favourite, wafting.  I am not sure if this is a recognized term in watercolour painting or one of Christine’s inventions. 

Wafting necessitates the use of a fabulously expensive animal haired brush which looks more like a cosmetic face brush than anything else and its use on wet watercolour applied to paper in order to blend colour before it dries.

We spent a couple of hours listening to explanations and being shown the materials necessary for the production of watercolour paintings.  Rather flatteringly we were also given some hints and tips to make our productions more saleable (!) and how to ensure that they were up to museum standard (!)

Our actual productions, which started from the “simple landscape” idea developed in very different ways as experiment followed experiment – with varying levels of success.

For many of us the pure white border around our works of art, formed when the masking tape was removed was the high point of our creative success!

Lunch followed with semi hysterical conversation.  A truly delightful day which, as Monday is a holiday was enjoyed without the teachers’ fear of Sunday afternoon as, normally, the reality of work the next day drains the last free moments of the weekend of their delight!

The holiday is a Bank Holiday so everything will be closed, but Tuesday is one of our occasional days and that day is being marked by the installation of a dish to get British television.

Spanish television is awful in a way that Brits find astonishing – and the awful programmes are constantly interrupted by illegal (12 minutes maximum per hour is the legal limit) levels of advertising.  A recent and most unwelcome innovation is that presenters of programmes suddenly launch into some commercial promotion and then, seamlessly go back to the ostensible programme they are actually presenting.

I look forward to the escape from the tyranny of third-rate rubbish!

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