tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821386719163038052024-03-16T08:08:20.634+01:00Norman Perryman: A Life Painting MusicExcerpts from a memoirNorman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.comBlogger183125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-82660945301594552042024-02-20T13:58:00.000+01:002024-02-20T13:58:32.145+01:00The joys of intelligent listening<p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEikN0zph2-x3n20ajxuR6cR86YdLiKeNnA6opW4b9i0b1N1h1g8hnPCMoVzuRgZFrUFQ-XRlV86dwFfAxxE1F5BjKdksh17hg8ukgr5go3bOJX-FGIeZ8e16bYREww8qQr2zbc4IBFKZzBm9tiXGZbZ9OqYcmTPch-N9q1L_jmiWDRtuOzypfinhsgLy8M" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="126" data-original-width="245" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEikN0zph2-x3n20ajxuR6cR86YdLiKeNnA6opW4b9i0b1N1h1g8hnPCMoVzuRgZFrUFQ-XRlV86dwFfAxxE1F5BjKdksh17hg8ukgr5go3bOJX-FGIeZ8e16bYREww8qQr2zbc4IBFKZzBm9tiXGZbZ9OqYcmTPch-N9q1L_jmiWDRtuOzypfinhsgLy8M=w246-h126" width="246" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><i><b>The joys of intelligent listening</b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">On January 18th 2018, a devastating storm brought the whole of the Netherlands to a standstill. I happened to be one of many in my dentist's waiting-room. Conversations about the weather and more sprung up. A woman sitting next to me asked "And what is your work? "Oh, I'm an artist - I paint music." "Huh...? Wait a minute, you mean you've memorised the score and paint in synch with..... I'm a neurologist - how can your brain do all that in real time?" "Well, Doctor, my brain has been practising painting "movies" with a paintbrush for fifty years...It's a long story." That encounter in our dentist's waiting-room led to years of delightful discussion.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhQHZvi8bn9ynhJJqeRZqmc3ppxZOB6KIEqG0NthCo9psjsIEc-9wsr81e368ECKX1gGqMaDEIv_GU__azGeZIO9zO6sDbYYusLY1wiYa1a4x90UJwfNr25KacTdzndMJTfpuFHtG3ubaQ-q2vX8S0wh6EaKzhZ7nyBIr37J2j7JM_siICw6wsP0IwkuSQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2654" data-original-width="1945" height="624" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhQHZvi8bn9ynhJJqeRZqmc3ppxZOB6KIEqG0NthCo9psjsIEc-9wsr81e368ECKX1gGqMaDEIv_GU__azGeZIO9zO6sDbYYusLY1wiYa1a4x90UJwfNr25KacTdzndMJTfpuFHtG3ubaQ-q2vX8S0wh6EaKzhZ7nyBIr37J2j7JM_siICw6wsP0IwkuSQ=w460-h624" width="460" /></a><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Dr. Maaike van der Graaff, Neurologist, watercolour, 68 x 50 cm. 2019</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span><div style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">A lot of people pretend to be listening, but they don't <i>hear</i> you because they are already preparing their reply. Yet if you can discover a common understanding, listening can be sheer joy. When you give and take, it's like playing music together, it can be deeply moving and memorable. Musicians actually <i>practise</i> listening to each other. If only politicians could learn from their example!</span></div><div style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Doctors who are good listeners show an intelligent interest in the whole person. <span style="font-family: arial;">"Tell me - how are you?" It's an invitation to share a lot more than just physical complaints. </span></span></div><div style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">"Oh doctor, what a relief; you really</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> <i>hear</i> what I'm saying. And I feel seen and encouraged by your wise smile of understanding. I know my time is nearly up, but I could give you a hug. Your words are music to my ears!"</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">___________________________________________________</span></span></div></span></div><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p>Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-81770506122493546292023-11-08T16:07:00.002+01:002023-11-15T12:32:13.217+01:00The Wound-Dresser<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgR-8xPN_MQjHY9XoTT5w7MZhhPkA6-M6KZ0ElftVO-gV5q9Ng5zDH9HFepNryvn17gd0brH0VMQE9mBnCZS847zsrIHAuyId05RSv-W4qSfiTU-WSX3_x6v0RqtbDJ8KGbPuTdsNhSbSqgff7mKOmK_q40LgNnoy1HC4nymKWlOlCGEDNvrVWbfGzR_h8" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="126" data-original-width="245" height="114" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgR-8xPN_MQjHY9XoTT5w7MZhhPkA6-M6KZ0ElftVO-gV5q9Ng5zDH9HFepNryvn17gd0brH0VMQE9mBnCZS847zsrIHAuyId05RSv-W4qSfiTU-WSX3_x6v0RqtbDJ8KGbPuTdsNhSbSqgff7mKOmK_q40LgNnoy1HC4nymKWlOlCGEDNvrVWbfGzR_h8=w222-h114" width="222" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>The Wound-Dresser</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><b><i>by Walt Whitman & John Adams</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="sans-serif" style="color: #202122; font-size: large; text-align: start; text-indent: -16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="sans-serif" style="color: #202122; text-align: start; text-indent: -16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">How can any artist find a way to visualise the indescribable tragedies of the present wars of destruction, suffering and death? I turn for help to </span></span><span face="sans-serif" style="color: #202122; text-align: left; text-indent: -16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">the great</span></span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: arial; text-align: left; text-indent: -16px;"> American poet Walt Whitman (1819-1892), who d</span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: arial; text-align: left; text-indent: -16px;">uring the extremely bloody American Civil War (1861-1865), </span><span style="font-family: arial; text-indent: -12pt;"><span>volunteered to </span></span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: arial; text-align: left;">work in hospitals to care for the wounded, nurse them and comfort them as they were dying. </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #202122; font-family: arial; text-align: left;">H</span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: arial; text-align: start;">is experience inspired his famous poem </span><i style="color: #202122; font-family: arial; text-align: start;">The Wound-Dresser.</i></span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: arial; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"> These notes are in honour of all those anonymous heroes and heroines who today are working themselves to death as "wound-dressers", in the most traumatic circumstances.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjD3IsuhLnN--aJwR6pXBkTQBDde536rMl605SUSckiIdsjRoUy7seZe3RnYR3Gn49EKP_Qiuhb8IzLSiMpbpOhWKQ-3EBw6y-A04oG1CdmiEwAN9zRssuRqK03yaj1CB3ow5HYKnhcyRZbmdvdtFs_Kcq-I3XWMAOeNxN66fB87Igc59eUd26mNaaWhFw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1266" data-original-width="1931" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjD3IsuhLnN--aJwR6pXBkTQBDde536rMl605SUSckiIdsjRoUy7seZe3RnYR3Gn49EKP_Qiuhb8IzLSiMpbpOhWKQ-3EBw6y-A04oG1CdmiEwAN9zRssuRqK03yaj1CB3ow5HYKnhcyRZbmdvdtFs_Kcq-I3XWMAOeNxN66fB87Igc59eUd26mNaaWhFw=w551-h361" width="551" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>"Bearing the bandages, water and sponge,</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>Strait and swift to my wounded I go, </i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>There they lie on the ground after the battle brought in,</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>Where their priceless blood reddens the grass, the ground,</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>Or to the rows of the hospital tent, or under the roof'd hospital,</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>To the long rows of cots up and down each side I return, </i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-family: arial;">to each </span><span style="font-family: arial;">and all one </span><span style="font-family: arial;">after another I draw near, not one do I miss....."</span></i></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">In 1989 the composer <a href="https://www.earbox.com/the-wound-dresser/">John Adams</a> set this poem to 19 minutes of haunting music for chamber orchestra and baritone. In 2010 I painted continuous fluid images, projected large on-screen, for two deeply moving performances in The Netherlands with the baritone David Wilson-Johnson and Holland Symfonia, conducted by Otto Tausk. My kinetic images were never recorded on video.</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0wWS1l3ebGTmerF7Wb4FrkgvdrwsDAUExSm11SiqFUzamUV8-b8CCJagifuA9NOW7s0gLJfbShXohA9AAhVIhs45VaLSE7bw4Sq5ylxfuju552wstaagxDEC2ucTHGqiOlpaiekLDvru3eki42zS57aaUGc6uXCV14rq7MGg8KBF5fnoAcHU8XRuHj0A" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="851" data-original-width="1280" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0wWS1l3ebGTmerF7Wb4FrkgvdrwsDAUExSm11SiqFUzamUV8-b8CCJagifuA9NOW7s0gLJfbShXohA9AAhVIhs45VaLSE7bw4Sq5ylxfuju552wstaagxDEC2ucTHGqiOlpaiekLDvru3eki42zS57aaUGc6uXCV14rq7MGg8KBF5fnoAcHU8XRuHj0A=w547-h364" width="547" /></a> </div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>"An attendant follows holding a tray, he carries a refuse pail,</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>Soon to be fill'd with clotted rags and blood, emptied, and filled again....</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>I onward go, I stop,</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>With hinged knees and steady hands to dress the wounds,</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>I am firm with each, the pangs are sharp but unavoidable,</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>One turns to me his appealing eyes - </i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-family: arial;">poor boy! </span><span style="font-family: arial;">I never knew you.</span></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>Yet I think I could not refuse this moment to die for you, if that would save you."</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm; text-align: center; text-indent: -12pt; vertical-align: baseline;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj9afRLzWphMNZeS7Acurs8lSbB7nMU_1fIqVlXjAMWoR6V-IZ2nN_9B_hJyiCdk89drOGnpfOemKIJs59KiP_0LIEM4Ggal80QiK351_nTKhvAu8Xuwx4pP9VKFN4KzbwsWWGz0r66L4eXOjyPu4KuYcunSNpHGGFNufqyK_dhAt-U4Ye6QHV2aCXeu9k" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="851" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj9afRLzWphMNZeS7Acurs8lSbB7nMU_1fIqVlXjAMWoR6V-IZ2nN_9B_hJyiCdk89drOGnpfOemKIJs59KiP_0LIEM4Ggal80QiK351_nTKhvAu8Xuwx4pP9VKFN4KzbwsWWGz0r66L4eXOjyPu4KuYcunSNpHGGFNufqyK_dhAt-U4Ye6QHV2aCXeu9k=w541-h360" width="541" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>"Come sweet death! Be persuaded</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>O beautiful death! In mercy, come quickly."</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">___________________________________________________________________</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The above link to John Adams includes some very perceptive, thought-provoking comments by the musician Sarah Cahill. Thank you Sarah.</span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm; text-align: start; text-indent: -12pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm; text-align: start; text-indent: -12pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm; text-align: start; text-indent: -12pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">I</span></p></div><p></p>Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-79969338471761693292023-06-25T17:48:00.005+02:002023-07-06T09:51:21.313+02:00At ninety, I must thank you all...<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgfm1ILD_wYYhwyOVN9Fxwh7DPhZEGDUo2NK-_EQVtCDtrShqAR9s2TywvemlIuJhDEnk-t5gURMr1VV_7azGAsRutAkZxHtVHi-xDTOptSoRbzlx9PUVxI7_er73u5OHiuY9gklPLMyX9jkMgYXQeb16gKeq3zNQbNh4VBtl5oWp_3ETgtSD9W9UMB" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="126" data-original-width="245" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgfm1ILD_wYYhwyOVN9Fxwh7DPhZEGDUo2NK-_EQVtCDtrShqAR9s2TywvemlIuJhDEnk-t5gURMr1VV_7azGAsRutAkZxHtVHi-xDTOptSoRbzlx9PUVxI7_er73u5OHiuY9gklPLMyX9jkMgYXQeb16gKeq3zNQbNh4VBtl5oWp_3ETgtSD9W9UMB=w262-h135" width="262" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: red; font-family: arial;"><b><i>At ninety, I must thank you all</i></b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: red; font-family: arial;"><b><i> for sharing years </i></b></span><b style="color: red; font-family: arial;"><i>of creative inspiration</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Dear friends, I'm indebted to so many of you, but my story should begin with the heroic Mrs. Cave, the only teacher in my tiny village school in Worcestershire. She recognised my drawing talents as a young boy and allowed me to fill the blackboard at lunch-time, while others scrambled around in the playground. Those were my first exhibitions - ha ha! Little did I know what an extraordinary role drawing and painting would play in my life.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">By sixteen I was at Birmingham art college, happily competing with Charles Hardaker (a year younger). We shared keen powers of observational and technical skills and the joy of hard work. Charles became my friend and inspiration.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">In 1957 I had moved to the Netherlands and became indebted to Professor Hammacher of the <a href="https://krollermuller.nl/en">Kröller-Müller Museum</a> when he offered me the use of a house and studio in the Vaucluse for a whole year. Nature and landscapes became a huge source of energy and inspiration and still are. I'm so thankful for that.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVATGjZUQ4x25ce43dt8V4P3qjjcZh8qnApySjsJPsSKnqh_MUf9ZlyV3x2NiInk7XWfyBmjLOkVygns97KW4mpDlux3oqbq7eSgH8QLdlKeyGY4talzYcU4n_VWy0DGqpgIv7KGQthAG31X_wskvlj37zvIHRpWJQDPJ-9-hcZqKRfFSXeAzbILLO/s640/burgundy%20landscape%201984.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="640" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVATGjZUQ4x25ce43dt8V4P3qjjcZh8qnApySjsJPsSKnqh_MUf9ZlyV3x2NiInk7XWfyBmjLOkVygns97KW4mpDlux3oqbq7eSgH8QLdlKeyGY4talzYcU4n_VWy0DGqpgIv7KGQthAG31X_wskvlj37zvIHRpWJQDPJ-9-hcZqKRfFSXeAzbILLO/w530-h318/burgundy%20landscape%201984.JPG" width="530" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">my blog: <a href="https://normanperryman.blogspot.com/2013/03/music-and-space-in-watercolour-painting.html">Music and space in watercolour painting</a></span><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">On my way home through Switzerland in 1963 I met Yehudi Menuhin at his Gstaad Festival and we became dear friends. He was the greatest inspiration of my life and opened the doors to collaborations with many other musicians. What a year that was!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiO8Iz2zhQMitih_COf9ue_Kl3URaRVULd_kWjgOcSZe8S-ZbRV9y520_UIYUYTPBVW08pQDqavGdiBpQ6iP9EQ4DcfJKaZKShuEEFrsZ7o1VfberRYTEBwRFq3RbZSnprQa5mKaO7j-OIrmx3OjSDEGKh9YpX6-luKZUFGKRKPnSvJh8VVGgoWwJR/s640/With%20Yehudi%20in%201991.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="493" data-original-width="640" height="337" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiO8Iz2zhQMitih_COf9ue_Kl3URaRVULd_kWjgOcSZe8S-ZbRV9y520_UIYUYTPBVW08pQDqavGdiBpQ6iP9EQ4DcfJKaZKShuEEFrsZ7o1VfberRYTEBwRFq3RbZSnprQa5mKaO7j-OIrmx3OjSDEGKh9YpX6-luKZUFGKRKPnSvJh8VVGgoWwJR/w435-h337/With%20Yehudi%20in%201991.jpg" width="435" /></a></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> <i style="font-family: arial; font-size: large; text-align: center;">Hand in hand with Yehudi Menuhin for a long chat (1991)</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIAz4acmMxZydvLT67Z_xhthFE4kCZm_xNMw1t2D3FAjYfXbHqYEbRlnOoW9_bfZbEERnPwMFWQn1OKzTgbmGG99a-CPbrEjYNLDTsgeIfhuhbjutMDAnWp0bzP4D22i2Z-1a-Xl3gyau5ldM5OAPcpYfVml2-bZq8H4Do1DModeAT6zPOCKtc6C-r/s1441/Kopie%20van%20Screenshot%202023-05-25%20at%2011.29.10.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1096" data-original-width="1441" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIAz4acmMxZydvLT67Z_xhthFE4kCZm_xNMw1t2D3FAjYfXbHqYEbRlnOoW9_bfZbEERnPwMFWQn1OKzTgbmGG99a-CPbrEjYNLDTsgeIfhuhbjutMDAnWp0bzP4D22i2Z-1a-Xl3gyau5ldM5OAPcpYfVml2-bZq8H4Do1DModeAT6zPOCKtc6C-r/w440-h334/Kopie%20van%20Screenshot%202023-05-25%20at%2011.29.10.JPG" width="440" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>A talk with Simon Rattle for BBC Television (1993)</i></span></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In the seventies, the creation of fluid kinetic paintings in synch with the music became my passion, with my partner the cellist Vivian King, conductors Clive Fairbairn, </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Sir Simon Rattle, Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla,</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> pianists Louis van Dijk, Pierre-Laurent Aimard and Sebastian Knauer, violinists Daniel Hope, Lis Perry, Gordan Nikolić, </span><span style="font-family: arial;">the tenor José Carreras, baritone Benno Schollum, </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span color="rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.9)" face="-apple-system, system-ui, "system-ui", "Segoe UI", Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Fira Sans", Ubuntu, Oxygen, "Oxygen Sans", Cantarell, "Droid Sans", "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol", "Lucida Grande", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Johannes Pfeuffer</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"> and </span><span style="font-family: arial;">the Ebonit Saxophone Quartet, Michael de Roo and </span><span><span style="font-family: arial;">Circle Percussion Ensemble </span><span style="font-family: arial;">and the Trio Min/Wu/Xu. I'm amazed that I was privileged to work with such fine musicians!</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span style="font-family: arial;">Audio-visual creativity became my daily nourishment, as I learned to memorise the music of composers </span></span><span style="font-family: arial;">John Adams, G</span><span><span style="font-family: arial;">eorge Benjamin, </span></span><span style="font-family: arial;">Toshio Hosokawa, Tristan Murai</span><span><span style="font-family: arial;">l, Augusta Read Thomas and </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Huang Ruo. </span></span><span><span style="font-family: arial;">Not to mention those no longer with us: Vivaldi, Haydn, Mussorgsky, Scriabin, Saint-Saëns, M.K.Čiurlionis, Elgar, Ravel, Stravinsky, Walton, Kabelać, Takemitsu and </span></span><span style="font-family: arial;">Rautavaara. I thank them all for the opportunity to visualise their great music. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEht25Z-41O6fV7ULllMH7SZriJIRGiV1Mt_fajz5bqUhKPvDmIzeTCJIXTxWux14IgMBICof9CSYmGp3LkE6Cy8vhkKnnR1TaEbYsVwOt74hQvufqQyOym023t_9Eqon7s4G0fJg-C9FQGf1cs_m952T-KENrvDLkKaVE9vPlfDQuLSA1J3LnX_bivQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1038" data-original-width="1996" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEht25Z-41O6fV7ULllMH7SZriJIRGiV1Mt_fajz5bqUhKPvDmIzeTCJIXTxWux14IgMBICof9CSYmGp3LkE6Cy8vhkKnnR1TaEbYsVwOt74hQvufqQyOym023t_9Eqon7s4G0fJg-C9FQGf1cs_m952T-KENrvDLkKaVE9vPlfDQuLSA1J3LnX_bivQ=w568-h294" width="568" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Rehearsing for "The Sea" by M.K.Čiurlionis (2019)</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></i></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">As well as hundreds of portraits of "ordinary people" I've been privileged to paint portraits of great musicians in action, in such a way that their gestures help you to "hear" the music. We often became friends and I was so touched by their messages of appreciation, either personally or by phone, from Simon Rattle, Jessye Norman, </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">José Carreras, Plácido Domingo, Bryn Terfel</span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">, </span><span><span style="font-family: arial;">Kurt Masur, Carlo-Maria Giulini, Cecilia Bartoli, Bernard Haitink, </span></span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505;"><span style="font-size: large;">Vladimir</span></span><span face="system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px;"> </span><span face="system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ashkenazy,</span></span></span><span face="system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span style="font-family: arial;">Mstislav </span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-family: arial;">Rostropovich and Yehudi Menuhin. (Yehudi's voice is still on my answering machine, now on YouTube)</span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; letter-spacing: 1.33333px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>. E</span></span></span><span style="font-family: arial;">very year I feel so sad that yet another of my dear portrait subjects has passed.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8khxKleRfzK8hD957R-uH-qcLPBd2eA4WKA-9vNZFDxSq8CWinjpN-ziIM9KiMDrW1_G4HGPWv1RUD5RObnIuIAk69iY5YLqadbweknRM9jSiJs2tRDgDGdN3l5p-KxJ8LrqJ9C0-Nzcay2_bnHCyTcIhNl7xYNaGpK2R1HKwArH0uOx5CEQY_FGU/s1896/a%20letter%20from%20Mstislav%20Rostropovich%202002.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="839" data-original-width="1896" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8khxKleRfzK8hD957R-uH-qcLPBd2eA4WKA-9vNZFDxSq8CWinjpN-ziIM9KiMDrW1_G4HGPWv1RUD5RObnIuIAk69iY5YLqadbweknRM9jSiJs2tRDgDGdN3l5p-KxJ8LrqJ9C0-Nzcay2_bnHCyTcIhNl7xYNaGpK2R1HKwArH0uOx5CEQY_FGU/w517-h229/a%20letter%20from%20Mstislav%20Rostropovich%202002.JPG" width="517" /></a></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaiPOMgC2joQVMpE8_4wT2bCQPi5Wj6gmyZIMr9G4oEeY6Mb25YruGarGcKmREo_mb4rO1vHkfc5gdiu-PZuR5ChXEpHa1SGRD5enJPbSHlkl8tuR8hDNhWYkqWNInDQEdWEx4reC1bigfH2H0wzcgRaHUXOJtQEekurO9X3Lw87aqd3rTQJYyDoqj/s640/image005.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="426" height="575" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaiPOMgC2joQVMpE8_4wT2bCQPi5Wj6gmyZIMr9G4oEeY6Mb25YruGarGcKmREo_mb4rO1vHkfc5gdiu-PZuR5ChXEpHa1SGRD5enJPbSHlkl8tuR8hDNhWYkqWNInDQEdWEx4reC1bigfH2H0wzcgRaHUXOJtQEekurO9X3Lw87aqd3rTQJYyDoqj/w382-h575/image005.jpg" width="382" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Mstislav Rostropovich (watercolour </i></span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: arial;">1991</span>(</span><i style="font-family: arial;">85 x 56 cm) </i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><i><a href="http://www.normanperryman.com/paintings_greatperformers.html">Some other great performers from my website</a><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I still treasure other inspiring friendships that have developed over the years: the art critic and author Eric Gibson, filmmaker Erik Friedl, author Jessica Duchen whose work is saturated with music, art educator and painter Herb Holzinger, Professor Cees Hamelink (an ardent collector of my paintings) and pianist Jean-Louis van Dam, choreographer Jiri Kylián and Jonathan Fulford, who directed the major BBC 1993 documentary </span><i style="font-family: arial;">Concerto for Paintbrush and Orchestra.</i><span style="font-family: arial;"> My special thanks to Andrew Jowett of Symphony Hall for commissioning no less than <i>thirty</i> paintings of celebrated performers. I'm also grateful to the visionary managers or agents in the world of music who engaged me to perform worldwide: the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, the Rotterdam Philharmonic, the Netherlands Philharmonic, the Sejong Soloists, the Zurich Chamber Orchestra, the Daniel Hope Ensemble and more. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLq_ncbPvuxSZtWJMHpwuM0lPIU9X8DWYiCjExTK00RHH3sr0H0GxbOsx9isqxiBS4VofRhdrCSMH-hE2cOsDEx2O49DnyH9IdNYHG31biR7l0mU4S-Tu571x1roYGwFp_jA2m1lyKCKHXZBR40bjvXfIhKu5RQZYjEnUNfPZa-hoiTfeb4bU8l7mt/s640/Screen%20Shot%202020-07-30%20at%2017.18.23.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="354" data-original-width="640" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLq_ncbPvuxSZtWJMHpwuM0lPIU9X8DWYiCjExTK00RHH3sr0H0GxbOsx9isqxiBS4VofRhdrCSMH-hE2cOsDEx2O49DnyH9IdNYHG31biR7l0mU4S-Tu571x1roYGwFp_jA2m1lyKCKHXZBR40bjvXfIhKu5RQZYjEnUNfPZa-hoiTfeb4bU8l7mt/w610-h336/Screen%20Shot%202020-07-30%20at%2017.18.23.jpg" width="610" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>Painting to Jura (The Sea) in Birmingham Symphony Hall, with Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla and the CBSO. My very last performance on February 16th, 2019). It was quite emotional.</i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span style="font-family: arial;">Thank you all so much! It's been a real roller coaster. My sons Chris and Alex were so often the ones who steadied my nerves and still do. At ninety, there are so many stories I could tell you. Actually I have - thousands read my blogs (190 so far)</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;">:</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><a href="https://normanperryman.blogspot.com/2023/02/fun-with-composers-and-their-zodiac.html" style="font-family: arial;">A Life Painting Music</a><span style="font-family: arial;">.</span><i style="font-family: arial;"> </i><span style="font-family: arial;">I may have disappeared from</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> the performing arts scene, but I'm still quietly at work in my Amsterdam studio. As long as I can hold a brush I'm happy to explore many other creative possibilities. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">Why not email me at normanperryman@gmail.com. Yes, there are still watercolours and limited edition fine-art prints <span style="color: red;">for sale</span> for a "</span><i><span style="font-size: large;">prix d'amitié".</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzSaUbvihM78q6ISC6ylfeBQ5_BOo1IdA2H_q22HZ7luyc0kIUw8x5hSGkuTSBoW3JCgs0ZBvzo91qtdb17nzt8tEpOQ3f7JQSrQmYaQU5isa6cNWjiaj-LcO2R0WTwisJfmfA--d62xwLh3DIpumD4y2nCHKTFD6kjAausGJV-aEwzyfgqjzOF-R0/s1955/Kopie%20van%20Screenshot%202023-05-25%20at%2011.44.02.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1087" data-original-width="1955" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzSaUbvihM78q6ISC6ylfeBQ5_BOo1IdA2H_q22HZ7luyc0kIUw8x5hSGkuTSBoW3JCgs0ZBvzo91qtdb17nzt8tEpOQ3f7JQSrQmYaQU5isa6cNWjiaj-LcO2R0WTwisJfmfA--d62xwLh3DIpumD4y2nCHKTFD6kjAausGJV-aEwzyfgqjzOF-R0/w496-h276/Kopie%20van%20Screenshot%202023-05-25%20at%2011.44.02.JPG" width="496" /></a></div></i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">You can<i> </i>Google me<i> </i>or play examples of my fluid kinetic paintings on <a href="https://youtu.be/BMi5b12fNWI">YouTube</a><i>. </i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg6K0l4pGHMIvSuGt01eimc5rxBxeew1neSQV3x8Zw-Ki7C-qt0OBgshOpqT2Wwr2g3ord-w_ms4meo37duBM2c6ddBT0PK9isJ01h22xFYIOM7MRQoikmUI9b6RlGIffFSCU-PUS0-QkXY8qxU2mEMC_YZzZoeAD8bp7mfc7VO2RNDIYiPgbsQ9d4I" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="6142" data-original-width="4843" height="548" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg6K0l4pGHMIvSuGt01eimc5rxBxeew1neSQV3x8Zw-Ki7C-qt0OBgshOpqT2Wwr2g3ord-w_ms4meo37duBM2c6ddBT0PK9isJ01h22xFYIOM7MRQoikmUI9b6RlGIffFSCU-PUS0-QkXY8qxU2mEMC_YZzZoeAD8bp7mfc7VO2RNDIYiPgbsQ9d4I=w432-h548" width="432" /></a></div></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Of all my paintings, this one seems to be a favourite. <span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; text-align: left;">A group of teenagers was once hanging around the foyer of Birmingham Symphony Hall, rather shy. One of them eventually approached me and said: "Sir, I just have to tell you: that painting changed my life. I now </span><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; text-align: left;">love</span><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; text-align: left;"> classical music". Every time I think of his words, I give him a virtual hug. This is why we paint.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-style: italic; text-align: center;">Here's the link:</div><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://normanperryman.blogspot.com/2016/12/december-10th-2016.html">The Mahler Experience</a><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">____________________________________________</div><br /><br /></i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><p class="HANNIGAN" style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 1pt;"><br /></p></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><br /><p></p>Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-70633149644574236982023-02-01T14:53:00.378+01:002023-02-07T10:33:04.682+01:00Fun with Zodiac Signs, Colour and Music<p> </p><h1 style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-5yIh0aYfe3pY74ovicsT4QWxY0ooTRJQga-3zoiQcuyOwiOjquzcxmxWiNS8jJktYdcmY6GafCM7Q0Sm_qrMkdYg-w1FegmQ6gjHj9eXM7VBDxcZPkzfNs2YxkZvTwP9WtaLymU0WIRjghY4kqWATzh1xXCFMqoJ3qEe5ItxAg4N3gScJyRXwat6/s245/Signature.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="126" data-original-width="245" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-5yIh0aYfe3pY74ovicsT4QWxY0ooTRJQga-3zoiQcuyOwiOjquzcxmxWiNS8jJktYdcmY6GafCM7Q0Sm_qrMkdYg-w1FegmQ6gjHj9eXM7VBDxcZPkzfNs2YxkZvTwP9WtaLymU0WIRjghY4kqWATzh1xXCFMqoJ3qEe5ItxAg4N3gScJyRXwat6/s1600/Signature.jpeg" width="245" /></span></a></h1><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: red; font-family: arial;"><i><b>Fun with </b></i></span><i style="color: red; font-family: arial;"><b>Zodiac Signs, </b></i><i style="color: red; font-family: arial;"><b>Colour and Music</b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span style="font-family: arial;">In 1986 Rupert van Woerkom, the very creative Editor of </span><span style="font-family: arial;">the Dutch women's magazine </span><i style="font-family: arial;">Elegance, </i><span style="font-family: arial;">commissioned me to make twelve paintings (approx. 60 x 50 cm.) inspired by the Zodiac Sign of each month. That was a very good year! I decided to use </span></span><span style="font-family: arial;">watercolour and oil crayons on paper and to scribble in some characteristics of women I knew, with their Sign. How did they behave, what colours belonged to their personalities? Which music did they like and how would that influence my choice of colours and design? I found it all great fun - the</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> female readers lapped it up, bought most of the paintings or commissioned more. Of course if you</span><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"> male sceptics find this nonsense, don't bother to read on. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large; text-align: center;">Here they are:</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIoZ9tNuls4GDpv8qd0kVrkwkc5bH9Pbci6fl-y_miA1IXlWUpz5AZFblPDDcOaNayeVvGwpGtiMn5rAW-D2_bzABjgmAeohA4Fqn6M5NXt0SCuviFidIB1f8FnKtcWOy2r5rziD8UXqBv1YEYl-ONc3pWcBItaQ8D9-9IsuMGUwsO9FTFgKEd2CEO/s2695/aries_2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2695" data-original-width="2103" height="537" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIoZ9tNuls4GDpv8qd0kVrkwkc5bH9Pbci6fl-y_miA1IXlWUpz5AZFblPDDcOaNayeVvGwpGtiMn5rAW-D2_bzABjgmAeohA4Fqn6M5NXt0SCuviFidIB1f8FnKtcWOy2r5rziD8UXqBv1YEYl-ONc3pWcBItaQ8D9-9IsuMGUwsO9FTFgKEd2CEO/w420-h537/aries_2.jpg" width="420" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><i><b>Aries:</b> March 21-April 19</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Bach. Anything he can do, she can do better; action woman; temperamental; independent. The planet Mars. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwDCMgqwWC65NT8gy82Mebhw-m4GflEuKVmiE3g_jh3XI56Cd8hfDioj_lXcAQdLN5zIp3IZ1SkNp2pHX2DZGbiP3fR88PIVe7PECKJtm-3QJiGL6haHBb4rgodpb7tbX-APDrVVvIRZDjp2tDf6nmLuUqoH53t3UDOdHPeBL2WFanL0Ku-F9huacw/s2693/taurus.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2693" data-original-width="2173" height="515" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwDCMgqwWC65NT8gy82Mebhw-m4GflEuKVmiE3g_jh3XI56Cd8hfDioj_lXcAQdLN5zIp3IZ1SkNp2pHX2DZGbiP3fR88PIVe7PECKJtm-3QJiGL6haHBb4rgodpb7tbX-APDrVVvIRZDjp2tDf6nmLuUqoH53t3UDOdHPeBL2WFanL0Ku-F9huacw/w416-h515/taurus.JPG" width="416" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="font-weight: bold;">Taurus: </i><i>April 20-May 20</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Tower of strength. Nature lover. Don't rush me. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Aimez-vous Brahms? Sensual. Déjeuner sur l'herbe.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3hY2f_qnBeBt7p8D9-uYrDn-SXWMec2jJoLAZNCK23DWr3r6vQHdA5ExBcKk1EZjdh0-gJZdQfHoQ7dmiBxeRrbbHMG5Fh1lE2mb1i9nq5Ran3G4HegsKkr-vcFySQ3Palom0qdSjzg64HdnUBgtgknLkeJbqlRauNgborfMzmbqnE4lg2f8Kdess/s2978/gemini%202.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2978" data-original-width="2180" height="559" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3hY2f_qnBeBt7p8D9-uYrDn-SXWMec2jJoLAZNCK23DWr3r6vQHdA5ExBcKk1EZjdh0-gJZdQfHoQ7dmiBxeRrbbHMG5Fh1lE2mb1i9nq5Ran3G4HegsKkr-vcFySQ3Palom0qdSjzg64HdnUBgtgknLkeJbqlRauNgborfMzmbqnE4lg2f8Kdess/w408-h559/gemini%202.JPG" width="408" /></a></div></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>Gemini: </b>May 21-June 20</i></div><div style="text-align: center;">Words, words; quicksilver; communication; looking both ways at once. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Schumann. Stravinsky.</div></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibIHJNJrSkrcHn0rexS_J4CzHM9UBYB7Sj9mmxgU8Kvx1rzVtzXQKMlgRQCiYMJDw-kVBxbDrJNW8w17AO6vfyBTrM2K7HlzeSnT-etQXQ2tBA1ndYfX-miOJ15OJVLixxP-7gOS7pviBLHt3Arael_aOYoe3zk2lqvuWNsgebhG5uRNWtq0ncQuyV/s3002/%20cancer%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3002" data-original-width="2126" height="584" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibIHJNJrSkrcHn0rexS_J4CzHM9UBYB7Sj9mmxgU8Kvx1rzVtzXQKMlgRQCiYMJDw-kVBxbDrJNW8w17AO6vfyBTrM2K7HlzeSnT-etQXQ2tBA1ndYfX-miOJ15OJVLixxP-7gOS7pviBLHt3Arael_aOYoe3zk2lqvuWNsgebhG5uRNWtq0ncQuyV/w414-h584/%20cancer%202.jpg" width="414" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><b style="font-style: italic;">Cancer: </b>June 21-July 22</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Claire de Lune; Home sweet home; Money, money, money; Nocturne; Debussy or Dvorák?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmQfIc3d8Zevph_JTgsbRxo9wDKD5lHgd8dsTkaXrg--V9xzA401ZYSt1ocSWJ7mLCV-tp-IuMv9bk4FX-hTpUfw1eSbW4Pt4L0QbdQUTEudW6D5P6SfTs3vF1qXmmOmrMFS-f3O0amjVKp2tu3n1iy5aEeZw3tRGZJgSwkWnamV4RDCMPvVBURUvj/s3019/Leo,%2059%20x%2051%20cm,%201986.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3019" data-original-width="2609" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmQfIc3d8Zevph_JTgsbRxo9wDKD5lHgd8dsTkaXrg--V9xzA401ZYSt1ocSWJ7mLCV-tp-IuMv9bk4FX-hTpUfw1eSbW4Pt4L0QbdQUTEudW6D5P6SfTs3vF1qXmmOmrMFS-f3O0amjVKp2tu3n1iy5aEeZw3tRGZJgSwkWnamV4RDCMPvVBURUvj/w412-h476/Leo,%2059%20x%2051%20cm,%201986.jpg" width="412" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><b style="font-style: italic;">Leo: </b>July 23-August 22</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Sun Queen, Apollo, Hercules, Hair, hair, hair</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Madonna?</span></div><i style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"> </i><i style="color: red; font-family: arial; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Note: this one is still for sale. 59 x 51 cm.</span></i><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGAolc7LTl4b-h4a68dIVllIjrigtZI3KRFDxTxASo23MnOjlQ2cDBezB6GksH_QhsyjAAbH9RDsjjNyd2NQyW-zz1IJQCVzuUCfYG-82Mr8fmajuNBx5yJlF3cIYyjUroZ9FEK8BDn7UfAmOtcei8LdrAWB5W5tKRB0XW4m1PJjAHJrVvKtlT7Y2D/s2644/virgo056.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2644" data-original-width="2291" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGAolc7LTl4b-h4a68dIVllIjrigtZI3KRFDxTxASo23MnOjlQ2cDBezB6GksH_QhsyjAAbH9RDsjjNyd2NQyW-zz1IJQCVzuUCfYG-82Mr8fmajuNBx5yJlF3cIYyjUroZ9FEK8BDn7UfAmOtcei8LdrAWB5W5tKRB0XW4m1PJjAHJrVvKtlT7Y2D/w414-h478/virgo056.JPG" width="414" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><b><i>Virgo:</i></b> August 23-September 22.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Cool, cool; You got a problem? Intelligence service;</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> Spic and span; Impeccable; Dvorák?</span></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIlTxU99Qa3TZh-ImajaNHB_Taz4aT2R9po47_o7nXneXvjhbCLc-aM-3MR6-cChcQH-BlZ4s5YBwcFtntTKsduTuLOmDTyJPcicjGn_2zoHh7Ml_QXuWJDBsXLYls0BPW_9dJ6R1DPGC41WpLr0gpjaGv31ZgnxZvgkj8tyGKL6od04b0-UXC0OHj/s3120/Libra,%2060%20x%2047%20cm.%201986.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="2434" height="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIlTxU99Qa3TZh-ImajaNHB_Taz4aT2R9po47_o7nXneXvjhbCLc-aM-3MR6-cChcQH-BlZ4s5YBwcFtntTKsduTuLOmDTyJPcicjGn_2zoHh7Ml_QXuWJDBsXLYls0BPW_9dJ6R1DPGC41WpLr0gpjaGv31ZgnxZvgkj8tyGKL6od04b0-UXC0OHj/w407-h520/Libra,%2060%20x%2047%20cm.%201986.jpg" width="407" /></a></div><div><br /></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-weight: bold;">Libra: </i>Sept. 23-October 22.</div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Decisions, decisions; Up and down; common sense; </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">charmer; </span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">Saint-Saëns</span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;">, </span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">maybe?</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: red; font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">Note: this one is still for sale. 60 x 47 cm.</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd5lWtYRvKc7WcEd9qHdsrOPzTS83P9cgquzHKnM4RmXPlmQUBCIkHod15J3tVWIA7SjXZoiwblergoR57nHpgxrjxW0TE4eD0Wz9LRyHfVriysFtJkeadXriKdPqf65gFIU9k2tVuDR-MDXpIkwwgipcLMCV9c-O7eIzAvWtb30fh_cS7oybko60e/s3191/Scorpio,%2065%20x%2052,%201986.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3191" data-original-width="2618" height="506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd5lWtYRvKc7WcEd9qHdsrOPzTS83P9cgquzHKnM4RmXPlmQUBCIkHod15J3tVWIA7SjXZoiwblergoR57nHpgxrjxW0TE4eD0Wz9LRyHfVriysFtJkeadXriKdPqf65gFIU9k2tVuDR-MDXpIkwwgipcLMCV9c-O7eIzAvWtb30fh_cS7oybko60e/w416-h506/Scorpio,%2065%20x%2052,%201986.jpg" width="416" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><b><i>Scorpio:</i></b> October 23 - November 21</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">Pluto;</span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">complete control; passionate; hypnotic; loyalty;</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Tchaikovsky; Paganini.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><i>Note: this one is still for sale. 64 x 52 cm.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIeDzk46hJKqnL01ynXXbR8mY2sQBQhgZcEx2n_XQSGccOz0COkXusSpIKqLNlCoADASbkU20vI04YB9ksSl8ivTpsCb-pMLGCX7lolUwHOH4X0eeoag2VJyYdpVedd9uPqepL2zeIua_OYZ_Sy0IHy9jF9IdcJsf0_nEe5wWVv0SKsyxDT5FgPWXK/s2553/sagittarius_2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2553" data-original-width="2161" height="493" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIeDzk46hJKqnL01ynXXbR8mY2sQBQhgZcEx2n_XQSGccOz0COkXusSpIKqLNlCoADASbkU20vI04YB9ksSl8ivTpsCb-pMLGCX7lolUwHOH4X0eeoag2VJyYdpVedd9uPqepL2zeIua_OYZ_Sy0IHy9jF9IdcJsf0_nEe5wWVv0SKsyxDT5FgPWXK/w417-h493/sagittarius_2.jpg" width="417" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><b><i>Saggitarius:</i></b> November 22 - December 21.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">The sky's the limit; applause please; where did I put my keys? Painfully honest; Jupiter; </span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">Berlioz; Beethoven.</span></span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdkdkHOKfQW6I4vXXlwFAX_Q_xUkvLWUlpSQ9CyeHzmpyvHuNT0Ezd8AODmqulpU0MFnVMsS_aako1NvfgBeaaSWiqqoZzfWxGdtJZJ7yxkKl6jBu6t6-4R2_1PHnwRuYE8cK46R_a3Cz7FBzRoNJECeHxurMkr95m6GwCv8Nf-IDVMLV_sC7iZJZL/s2655/capricorn.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2655" data-original-width="2177" height="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdkdkHOKfQW6I4vXXlwFAX_Q_xUkvLWUlpSQ9CyeHzmpyvHuNT0Ezd8AODmqulpU0MFnVMsS_aako1NvfgBeaaSWiqqoZzfWxGdtJZJ7yxkKl6jBu6t6-4R2_1PHnwRuYE8cK46R_a3Cz7FBzRoNJECeHxurMkr95m6GwCv8Nf-IDVMLV_sC7iZJZL/w425-h520/capricorn.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><i style="font-weight: bold;">Capricorn: </i>December 22 - January 19; </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Queen of the winter; Saturn; control: quiet social climber; artistic; hidden feelings.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Scriabin?</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ydW0Di3uHi5IBYTp6GmXggVxrZBM_t5hEFwsCsREC6Dp_WQSnWWKhazr1nTyk61aa9WE6qYpfSR4Ll4qYUfUYBcjHnWC6RhigFq3k4JsGgzuLYs-SdcjskVJIe3HwcgRyGg9L-nNuE6p5dtOqNUmqnu_mytAEr7--yb404yE_TKfi93PLAtiaq_7/s2323/Aquarius.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2323" data-original-width="1916" height="514" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ydW0Di3uHi5IBYTp6GmXggVxrZBM_t5hEFwsCsREC6Dp_WQSnWWKhazr1nTyk61aa9WE6qYpfSR4Ll4qYUfUYBcjHnWC6RhigFq3k4JsGgzuLYs-SdcjskVJIe3HwcgRyGg9L-nNuE6p5dtOqNUmqnu_mytAEr7--yb404yE_TKfi93PLAtiaq_7/w424-h514/Aquarius.jpeg" width="424" /></a></div><div><br /></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-weight: bold;">Aquarius: </i>January 20 - February 18</div></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">Quick thinking; so many friends; intuitive; gone with the wind; marry - are you crazy? Mendelssohn, Mozart.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhavZ0FmoK19g1ieP376hiELQED8sH91nUeQpxvdz2UGXV56H1CrkbBNqm-Q4G385opUKR5rxiViDVQKz0AXLHXAKkzLmSTx2Ijs1mYXvpp0m6a5S1GCEe0seTIy4ei42CYaBVx4Ow3o3ZFexM0bt92A4jJiGkV8kTBtVBdz4g9OjqBEJwopWLUJL-J/s2691/pisces058.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2691" data-original-width="2235" height="506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhavZ0FmoK19g1ieP376hiELQED8sH91nUeQpxvdz2UGXV56H1CrkbBNqm-Q4G385opUKR5rxiViDVQKz0AXLHXAKkzLmSTx2Ijs1mYXvpp0m6a5S1GCEe0seTIy4ei42CYaBVx4Ow3o3ZFexM0bt92A4jJiGkV8kTBtVBdz4g9OjqBEJwopWLUJL-J/w420-h506/pisces058.jpg" width="420" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><i style="font-weight: bold;">Pisces: </i>February 19 - March 20</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Oh, am I late? Elusive; enigmatic; sense of humour; </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Neptune; Chopin.</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">__________________________________________________________________</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Contact: normanperryman@gmail.com</span></div><span style="color: red;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p></div></div>Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-54594208569512279072023-01-20T15:01:00.004+01:002023-01-21T12:00:49.291+01:00Dancing rhythms in landscape<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijZtl6um1jFeiyJwRHfn1_8R2Vrl9DWQaHt6AAWkv4Lfte8PtO7Btdo5HsUIqQULVzJbMnXIdZxwN_ba1CenYfrb0Fjqs7831PZnNHUx_ClfnIEqEgCMwDP8mRo7Wr1hV-290O7sPpodluyPy_ju6Lx7lrbqC6z5rmAJdnrvbOFsluyVF89M-RzXoM" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="126" data-original-width="245" height="165" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijZtl6um1jFeiyJwRHfn1_8R2Vrl9DWQaHt6AAWkv4Lfte8PtO7Btdo5HsUIqQULVzJbMnXIdZxwN_ba1CenYfrb0Fjqs7831PZnNHUx_ClfnIEqEgCMwDP8mRo7Wr1hV-290O7sPpodluyPy_ju6Lx7lrbqC6z5rmAJdnrvbOFsluyVF89M-RzXoM" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><h1><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="color: red;"><b><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">Dancing rhythms in landscape</span></i></b></span></h1><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black; font-family: arial;">Now winter is upon us, how many of us are old enough to remember the winter of 1962/63? It</span><span style="color: black; font-family: arial;"><span> went down in history as the coldest European winter of the twentieth century. I was twenty-nine and crazy enough to stand outside in the snow sketching the Dutch landscape! Pale landscapes assisted me in my search </span></span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: arial; font-size: large;">for lines or groups of people, trees, buildings or windmills that would form dark shapes to dance across my canvas. I wanted to emphasise those shapes, bundled up, twisting and turning in space, balancing strategically in the composition as it were on a rope stretched from side to side. They revived memories of my hobby as an art-student, balancing on a slack-rope, relishing the space all around me. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span></div></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJqKlvqYTIBD6QtYlFDbTwD3Gxlp0laKjBeefr1vR0qDPb8ctaa97SF-m6NwesTcT8Ah9A5x3OxhAfbt6C93KZAtDTqXDsGe2-ryPFMUynd04YSxBNxe2QGdjurZWHUNuqVZnBuITXKI4/s1600/Windmills+at+Zaandijk+1962.jpg" style="color: #3778cd; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJqKlvqYTIBD6QtYlFDbTwD3Gxlp0laKjBeefr1vR0qDPb8ctaa97SF-m6NwesTcT8Ah9A5x3OxhAfbt6C93KZAtDTqXDsGe2-ryPFMUynd04YSxBNxe2QGdjurZWHUNuqVZnBuITXKI4/s640/Windmills+at+Zaandijk+1962.jpg" style="background: transparent; border-radius: 0px; border: 1px solid transparent; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 0px 0px; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">The windmills of a frozen Zaandijk in the winter of 1962, </span></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">oil on canvas, approx. 80 x 60 cm.</span></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: justify;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">When I moved to Switzerland a few years later, my fascination with the arrangement of forms in space continued. As I look back at these early works, I still hear the musical rhythms and tempi of these seemingly kinetic forms, forceful sounds fading to a whisper on the horizon or escaping off the canvas. </span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: large; text-align: left;">The clatter of skis being put on, skiers climbing sideways with staccato edges in the snow, then rhythmic rasping sounds, fading away as they disappeared quietly over the edge of the mountain.</span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: large; text-align: left;"> Every skier knows those sounds.</span></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: justify;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcnXZ6WZLO_e65tkuPehqKrGQt-mUqZYhLiQekgkm6SD4Es66F3v2_JDXRoU9mc0z2feEw3iW9bwbCXhMcKK6BPXpurhSJrd00_bzRvkPsBv9VEXfpKbAzptGJh311C5RtOswOQ1-g41c/s1600/skiers+2156.jpg" style="color: #3778cd; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" height="401" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcnXZ6WZLO_e65tkuPehqKrGQt-mUqZYhLiQekgkm6SD4Es66F3v2_JDXRoU9mc0z2feEw3iW9bwbCXhMcKK6BPXpurhSJrd00_bzRvkPsBv9VEXfpKbAzptGJh311C5RtOswOQ1-g41c/s640/skiers+2156.jpg" style="background: transparent; border-radius: 0px; border: 1px solid transparent; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 0px 0px; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Skiers, oil on canvas, approx. 80 x 60 cm.1966. </span></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="text-align: left;">Below, my woodcutters in the snow were making modern music like percussionists, with the sounds of irregular chopping and sawing,</span><span style="text-align: left;"> with two very quiet final notes provided by a couple of tourists, standing still, perhaps hypnotised.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKEmU3ZwJlm8fii8MG9QlIW8kS40EOKXt2ehRkKZ0HiMm6iAJ9xP2VLsNN0cJFzsHMXKyM-zhA8AnQRmowzHzr97OTrZnH9L2EmbkzW7WEvBUhStHZqrieEGssnKEYdc0AoLF97LrrMxo/s1600/F1000012.JPG" style="clear: right; color: #3778cd; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" height="407" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKEmU3ZwJlm8fii8MG9QlIW8kS40EOKXt2ehRkKZ0HiMm6iAJ9xP2VLsNN0cJFzsHMXKyM-zhA8AnQRmowzHzr97OTrZnH9L2EmbkzW7WEvBUhStHZqrieEGssnKEYdc0AoLF97LrrMxo/s640/F1000012.JPG" style="background: transparent; border-radius: 0px; border: 1px solid transparent; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 0px 0px; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: medium;">Woodcutters in the snow, Blatten, near Zermatt, Switzerland,1963.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif">Below, the quiet adagio of a </span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><i>Jeu de Boules</i></span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"> </i><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif">in Carpentras, Provence - minimal music, with only the rustle of plane trees, the crunch of gravel, murmured commentaries and occasionally a sudden </span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="font-style: italic;">clack!</span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><i> </i>No snow here - I've faded out the background to focus on the elongated dark shape of the group, something that became characteristic of my early works.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTNd_d-TJNfKB1a0MYwgGfWqW_vOn5gNWvG8fLLCWHL1MxxHiuBPfDIia9-EQcGx6cWWaSmpfouX77rHyvLsCteaL_cttsTAXW3IwcAT8CRI3XVclHK-z3bEwLJrxpjYsR00BR96kLyZs/s1600/Jeux+de+boules+1963.jpg" style="color: #3778cd; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" height="409" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTNd_d-TJNfKB1a0MYwgGfWqW_vOn5gNWvG8fLLCWHL1MxxHiuBPfDIia9-EQcGx6cWWaSmpfouX77rHyvLsCteaL_cttsTAXW3IwcAT8CRI3XVclHK-z3bEwLJrxpjYsR00BR96kLyZs/s640/Jeux+de+boules+1963.jpg" style="background: transparent; border-radius: 0px; border: 1px solid transparent; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 0px 0px; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="640" /></a></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><i><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: medium;">Jeu de Boules in Provence, oil on canvas, approx. 80 x 60 cm.1963.</span></span></i></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">But, you might ask, where is <i>colour</i> in this young artist's life? It was playing a waiting game, perhaps hidden by an inner struggle, inhibited by an unhappy relationship. It was waiting to explode (and it did), impelled by the inspiration of music and the realisation, long ago, that painting and music were meant to be partners in my life. Here's a link to that early blog from 2012: </span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://normanperryman.blogspot.com/2012/02/musician-with-paintbrush.html">Musician with a paintbrush</a></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">_________________________________________________</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span><span style="font-size: medium;">(This is an edited version of an earlier blog) </span><br /></span><i style="font-size: 13px;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><br /></span></i></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><br /><p></p>Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-63144680256036016142022-11-24T09:42:00.002+01:002022-11-24T09:59:12.794+01:00Ageing optimistically, like Hokusai<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx-5_voxNJW1fzLqYCQqkVXfI2sPGtHd5vUkFBkVA0tUc3JJ9BGL2G3yRcxzhR4hiwlAYEvJL6wmJLwumeS7Os01TLYQJHzbOk1AtPb_agd6a_EyLe3exY0A9EBxLCOw0a_yHaeRvLGHH6aigXSPDNy2CPgxueDvoNwK0Kk7RzbEmTMr10th1Q97Yl/s245/Signature.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="126" data-original-width="245" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx-5_voxNJW1fzLqYCQqkVXfI2sPGtHd5vUkFBkVA0tUc3JJ9BGL2G3yRcxzhR4hiwlAYEvJL6wmJLwumeS7Os01TLYQJHzbOk1AtPb_agd6a_EyLe3exY0A9EBxLCOw0a_yHaeRvLGHH6aigXSPDNy2CPgxueDvoNwK0Kk7RzbEmTMr10th1Q97Yl/s1600/Signature.jpeg" width="245" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;">"When I'm a hundred and forty or more, </span></i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;">every stroke I paint will be alive..."</span></i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">(The great Hokusai)</span></i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><span face="arial, sans-serif"><span><span style="color: #444444;">As I ponder old-age and the remaining creative time I may very well have, I am greatly encouraged by the words of the famous Japanese artist and printmaker Hokusai (1760-1849) : </span><i><span style="color: #0b5394;">“From the
age of six, I had the habit of sketching from life. I became an
artist…and from fifty on began producing works that won some reputation, but
nothing I did before the age of seventy was worthy of attention...If I go on trying...at one hundred and forty or more...</span></i></span></span><span face="arial, sans-serif"><i><span style="color: #0b5394;">I will have reached the stage where every dot and every stroke I paint will be alive".</span> </i><span style="color: #444444;">Wow, what an example!</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ce2T0SYbFkvYsQsYjbFNhkI0pN9nrrmytUXKXsKabOfPdxNxlLRuX3ZSbu0ENt8aMguVilMM5JgSh9UwsAQvNH20WspwyAi7P-qPyJhGH9IoyNLFMzFB9SKsGIRBBUrIWK0HLkD0OXytzcFB6s9Q7Of3wV648tjC4WK_QCEaWtDowYn992f1fmCO/s680/Hokusai.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="457" data-original-width="680" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ce2T0SYbFkvYsQsYjbFNhkI0pN9nrrmytUXKXsKabOfPdxNxlLRuX3ZSbu0ENt8aMguVilMM5JgSh9UwsAQvNH20WspwyAi7P-qPyJhGH9IoyNLFMzFB9SKsGIRBBUrIWK0HLkD0OXytzcFB6s9Q7Of3wV648tjC4WK_QCEaWtDowYn992f1fmCO/w631-h425/Hokusai.jpeg" width="631" /></a></div><p></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #202122;">This woodblock print (26 x 38 cm.,1830) <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Great_Wave_off_Kanagawa">The Great Wave off Kangawa</a></span><i style="color: #202122;"> </i><span style="color: #202122;">is Hokusai's best-known work and the first in his series <i>Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji.</i></span><span style="color: #202122;"> He was then already seventy and this iconic work soon became probably the most reproduced image in the history of art. </span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px;"><span><span style="color: #202122; font-size: large;">While Mount Fuji is calmly placed asymmetrically in the distance, the fishing-boats might appear to be waging a losing battle against the claws of those huge ominous waves. Or are they successfully cleaving their way through the irresistible forces of nature? It's an endless discussion.</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span style="color: #202122;">Facilitated by Dutch traders, </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent;"><span style="color: #202122;">Japanese prints and design flooded Europe, the movement entitled <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japonisme">Japonisme</a> inspired</span></span><span style="color: #202122;"> artists like </span><span style="color: #202122;">Van Gogh, Monet (the Giverny Garden) and composers like Debussy (La Mer), Čiurlionis (The Sea) and many others. </span></span></span><span style="background-color: transparent;"><span style="color: #202122;">T</span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #202122;">he coloured outlines of shapes in Van Gogh's paintings were probably influenced by</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #202122;"> the characteristics of woodblock prints. </span><span style="background-color: transparent;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="color: #202122; font-family: arial;"><span>My own fluid watercolours were certainly influenced by Japanese art, especially since I travelled there in 1984. So it was so natural that I should be asked to paint live </span><span>kinetic images to the music of Toshio Hosokawa </span></span></span></span><span style="background-color: transparent;"><span style="color: #202122; font-family: arial;">with the Netherlands Chamber Orchestra</span><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="color: #202122; font-family: arial;"><span>: "</span><span><i>Meditation for the victims of the Tsunami 11/3/11". </i></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNm70Kd1UX_c7eJ8mi-heg2YavadU_U4b5LAbTmJfrcQ_qRvCnNRXuPD9UVV31TeTltNz3wmiLnWnjSjqtFmxVJItso-c4K1Kuqacw3Hi6qa-PNdKL7EfqUi933IgPJ-umHBopW772kw_-_9UdoOzXACMGKSjEdtV3YyDTUeLBtRVR75kIHcGK_hKr/s2806/P1010680%202.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1590" data-original-width="2806" height="351" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNm70Kd1UX_c7eJ8mi-heg2YavadU_U4b5LAbTmJfrcQ_qRvCnNRXuPD9UVV31TeTltNz3wmiLnWnjSjqtFmxVJItso-c4K1Kuqacw3Hi6qa-PNdKL7EfqUi933IgPJ-umHBopW772kw_-_9UdoOzXACMGKSjEdtV3YyDTUeLBtRVR75kIHcGK_hKr/w624-h351/P1010680%202.JPG" width="624" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #202122; font-family: arial; font-size: large;">What would Hokusai have made of one of the most traumatic struggles against the sea in Japanese history? My earlier blog </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #202122;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://normanperryman.blogspot.com/2013/10/meditation-for-victims-of-tsunami.html"><span>Tsunami 11/3/11</span></a><span> sketches the</span></span></span></span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: arial; text-align: left;"> story of the earthquake that split the ocean floor near Fukushima in 2011, resulting in about 20,000 deaths, 450,000 homeless and appalling destruction. My two calligraphic gashes are inspired by a shriek from the strings, then all carefully organised Japanese harmony can be seen slowly disintegrating into a floating chaos. We have all seen those awful videos, but I wanted to create slow-motion images, projected large and designed to spread across the towards the spectators, trapped in their seats in the concert-hall, so that the horrors of the experience could sink in.</span></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><p></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; margin: 0.5em 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i></i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWfMDKSBTyDf6fCNM-GNM929UfYag6HsLdYAlYyFXLFsmgfV8YuuiTNV6oCTcpxBckRExhSYJB8sD41B-vXQnCxLK5NTXv3p12W7dH7zM4yeK4j_7ODxAGckZUagREGi68zQKFgrnf6qOxcLQS7imV-rPAHImfrjrhlbfHmcou5vbOtTCCogDyU5sr/s2869/P1010731.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1615" data-original-width="2869" height="327" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWfMDKSBTyDf6fCNM-GNM929UfYag6HsLdYAlYyFXLFsmgfV8YuuiTNV6oCTcpxBckRExhSYJB8sD41B-vXQnCxLK5NTXv3p12W7dH7zM4yeK4j_7ODxAGckZUagREGi68zQKFgrnf6qOxcLQS7imV-rPAHImfrjrhlbfHmcou5vbOtTCCogDyU5sr/w582-h327/P1010731.JPG" width="582" /></span></a></i></div><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="color: #202122;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></i></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #0b5394; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWMDEiWI4ZAevRBzKuBgotu6kdiB7hfwhc52Qc6LSaAhmiCxdomXkrFtA61338pDjGM0CBemQbmkv2hwTv7OyCVSiZLHWKdN_2YkBk1xMHMfX4ynxTonDcXnxwEmJpDje9vkuF5LJH1YBLC08hzNTxHLSTIWXgYkteYGgfF-sGHEv7EHaQl0Xnbfsc/s2629/P1010722%20-%20Version%202.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1586" data-original-width="2629" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWMDEiWI4ZAevRBzKuBgotu6kdiB7hfwhc52Qc6LSaAhmiCxdomXkrFtA61338pDjGM0CBemQbmkv2hwTv7OyCVSiZLHWKdN_2YkBk1xMHMfX4ynxTonDcXnxwEmJpDje9vkuF5LJH1YBLC08hzNTxHLSTIWXgYkteYGgfF-sGHEv7EHaQl0Xnbfsc/w588-h356/P1010722%20-%20Version%202.JPG" width="588" /></a></div><span><div style="text-align: left;"><span>I visualised the very soft final part of the music (Entitled <i>Prayer</i>)<i> </i>in a symbolic rendering of the everlasting Mount Fuji, superimposed over my powerful Japanese brush, now barely moving, as my drops of water breathed their last and disappeared.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This was one of many treasured multi-cultural collaborations with musicians and dancers that have come my way in the last fifty years, many recorded for television. The intense productions and creative thrills involved in painting <i>live</i> with music was the great passion of my life. But at my age it is now longer possible. You can find examples on YouTube, still images on my website and on other blogs.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgai5ZI6FOpKGzgtmeDgrzIZQFarhc8aY1wVogVfXAIoui9BoNYcdsBzVmP6a-0zFQrug5YiVkO1xM_s-bL80jcjdFSLykAJITJk9eNa8xyNGpzhmLj-S92C3b4eEb3X-5UDNFRuKuCIeW5dVp7QtBZSHKUxwUph_l78PluQyYFNHOVq6IxpGVQ-IKn/s2339/1.%20brief%20encounter%20un%20space,%2020%20x%2030%20cm.%202019.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1316" data-original-width="2339" height="357" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgai5ZI6FOpKGzgtmeDgrzIZQFarhc8aY1wVogVfXAIoui9BoNYcdsBzVmP6a-0zFQrug5YiVkO1xM_s-bL80jcjdFSLykAJITJk9eNa8xyNGpzhmLj-S92C3b4eEb3X-5UDNFRuKuCIeW5dVp7QtBZSHKUxwUph_l78PluQyYFNHOVq6IxpGVQ-IKn/w635-h357/1.%20brief%20encounter%20un%20space,%2020%20x%2030%20cm.%202019.jpg" width="635" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span>A brief encounter in space, watercolour 20 x 30 cm. 2019</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: left;">The transparency and fluidity of watercolour is still my great love, but I must now create watercolours on paper, painted quietly, without pressure, in the studio. There will undoubtedly be some Japanese influence. "<i>Less is more"</i> has become my aim. I have all the time in the world.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span>_________________________________________________</span></div></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><i style="color: #0b5394; font-weight: bold;"><br /></i></span><b><i><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></span></i></b></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br /><p></p>Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-30513021759169882002022-11-08T11:23:00.001+01:002022-11-08T11:29:15.287+01:00Soldiers' Mass<p> </p><div class="post hentry" style="min-height: 0px; position: relative;"><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-8638276217751325751" style="line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 706px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-large; line-height: 23.472px;"><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: red; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgdoC6hlyOA2uUN1X50FmEde5PMU4J6bOsSvAAzv-vHSlJOZrLF9pN0AcAANiQXKCCWHnDECHPRvnGixd88QN3E16-10bd2u2ZZfa8YOPl9TXC19CgrZKkSq5gJsLc4BWkIkTmmn17XMJPbI2NA7FPWbbaMbEVLyKKBzN2YJuM-8p6oGwEPYTFqbrmh" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="1000" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgdoC6hlyOA2uUN1X50FmEde5PMU4J6bOsSvAAzv-vHSlJOZrLF9pN0AcAANiQXKCCWHnDECHPRvnGixd88QN3E16-10bd2u2ZZfa8YOPl9TXC19CgrZKkSq5gJsLc4BWkIkTmmn17XMJPbI2NA7FPWbbaMbEVLyKKBzN2YJuM-8p6oGwEPYTFqbrmh=w245-h126" width="245" /></a></div><br />Commemorating tragedy through dance</i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-large; line-height: 23.472px;"><i><br /></i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="line-height: 23.472px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: xx-large; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Ji<span face=""Google Sans", arial, sans-serif-medium, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; white-space: nowrap;">ř</span>i Kylián's "<i>Soldiers' Mass",</i><i> </i>created in 1980 for the Netherlands Dance Theater, was described by a dance critic as "a poignant commentary on the devastation, absurdity and futility of war". It was a deeply felt protest through dance, a protest that is now still painfully relevant today. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Ji<span face=""Google Sans", arial, sans-serif-medium, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; white-space: nowrap;">ř</span>i's Czech compatriot Bohuslav Martin<span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">ů</span> composed his haunting cantata <i>"Field Mass" </i>in 1939 in memory of a battalion of young Czechoslovakian soldiers who were all killed the day after they were sent into battle.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Ji<span face=""Google Sans", arial, sans-serif-medium, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; white-space: nowrap;">ř</span>i choreographed twelve beautifully fit young men to "stand in" for their fellow men (from any country you care to mention), who were drafted to unite in blind obedience and senseless death. At one moment the dancers join the baritone and male chorus to sing a Mass (a prayer) for their own death, their voices and bodies crying out against the inhumanity of man. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Jirí's masterful ballets inspired many paintings in the eighties, but as I made sketches during the creation of this tragically beautiful ballet, it left a deep impression on me, as a pacifist. On the backdrop, a sinister red stripe on the horizon of this battlefield repeatedly emerges and disappears into the dark blue of night.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIIJ6oq04RH0_oINux6MwyoE0XBr7fSaPLX46nuH-OZvVzUQ4YHWfMQBKOen_9qvtB85v-ifCRMDUnn2sAYOPvgBuwps7w23PYO0CVMaY32MfOl90DMy1v1VKUSltY8Oavv5ceUcXK11ROdE30h6q8PsBbOzAsqiDleQz5E_GEAooCRZpOWraA6AHa/s451/Picture%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="328" data-original-width="451" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIIJ6oq04RH0_oINux6MwyoE0XBr7fSaPLX46nuH-OZvVzUQ4YHWfMQBKOen_9qvtB85v-ifCRMDUnn2sAYOPvgBuwps7w23PYO0CVMaY32MfOl90DMy1v1VKUSltY8Oavv5ceUcXK11ROdE30h6q8PsBbOzAsqiDleQz5E_GEAooCRZpOWraA6AHa/w545-h398/Picture%201.jpg" width="545" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i> Soldiers' Mass 1 (Kylián / Martin</i><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><i>ů</i></span><i>) watercolour and oil pastel, 50 x 70cm. 1980</i></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_yxtCRbGAAIRqj6h-B90xVf6oPidFZJYfq6gVP22vwEw4McOiCVKlXzC9IyY6wT55hodtWcZtq0j6Lu_CuXWVebvMDUxMVN45GkAQIjyBxqTiuQwIjnkNA-4fUb3n1ecYYQBLYAG-nNjD9jTji_XFizUd8ztXOBIlfZ7uVPbpofhwl22AUK98HWXO/s646/717%20Jiri%20Kylian%20-%20Soldatenmis%20-%20Version%203.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="448" data-original-width="646" height="374" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_yxtCRbGAAIRqj6h-B90xVf6oPidFZJYfq6gVP22vwEw4McOiCVKlXzC9IyY6wT55hodtWcZtq0j6Lu_CuXWVebvMDUxMVN45GkAQIjyBxqTiuQwIjnkNA-4fUb3n1ecYYQBLYAG-nNjD9jTji_XFizUd8ztXOBIlfZ7uVPbpofhwl22AUK98HWXO/w537-h374/717%20Jiri%20Kylian%20-%20Soldatenmis%20-%20Version%203.jpeg" width="537" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #444444; text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 1.467em;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Gerald Tibbs, Leigh Matthews, Glen Eddy. Photo: Jorge Fatauros. 1980</i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #444444; text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 1.467em;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>(with acknowledgements to Jirí Kylián and the Netherlands Dance Theater).</i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhQcURVMHqxhSIhBRvW29garJOLnvuOLNPD-7AkY03---a8qURxqkLZThnyJEkrnv2MpRlyYXelwR90GaBbR_nYSP1BMkQU1l_DgqiLrrd0ks9kSC0AJqU4o3k0xNyQHtTDyT2E0JVRftHMMeFJRRtxQA98jBxwR8Z43_2sJ_1izH0GoHIf8w6w0cZ/s451/Picture%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="321" data-original-width="451" height="387" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhQcURVMHqxhSIhBRvW29garJOLnvuOLNPD-7AkY03---a8qURxqkLZThnyJEkrnv2MpRlyYXelwR90GaBbR_nYSP1BMkQU1l_DgqiLrrd0ks9kSC0AJqU4o3k0xNyQHtTDyT2E0JVRftHMMeFJRRtxQA98jBxwR8Z43_2sJ_1izH0GoHIf8w6w0cZ/w541-h387/Picture%202.jpg" width="541" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i> Soldiers' Mass 2 (Kylián / Martin</i><i style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">ů</i><i>) watercolour and oil pastel, 50 x 70cm. 1980</i></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><i><b>____________________________________________________________________________________________</b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large; font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Here's a short clip from </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Ji</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: arial; white-space: nowrap;">ř</span><span style="font-family: arial;">i Kylián's</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><a href="https://youtu.be/UlLwtYXq9E8" style="font-family: arial;">Soldiers' Mass</a><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">on YouTube, performed by the Czech National Ballet. You really should see it on an eighteen-metre stage.</span></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></span></div><br /><br /></span></div></div></div>Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-51225466353462525992022-10-28T11:26:00.000+02:002022-10-28T11:26:35.622+02:00The blind man on the train<p> </p><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg70cvCbdhtPOSXfmgsy6E-AbHFpjbFv5OXCvFx8naX6YpVp6M0fK7kCNbuXqUjW3WNO67uG7N04s2tRvwGXDANI9-sYjBKmu1qpsxyDS9mHesVQku59BqwPZpAUgWIyV66BSMHir6XhFr3ormZWDXerMAEw8-Za9ZNRZ1aBvff6SCAN5VYY80BNy8F" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="1000" height="128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg70cvCbdhtPOSXfmgsy6E-AbHFpjbFv5OXCvFx8naX6YpVp6M0fK7kCNbuXqUjW3WNO67uG7N04s2tRvwGXDANI9-sYjBKmu1qpsxyDS9mHesVQku59BqwPZpAUgWIyV66BSMHir6XhFr3ormZWDXerMAEw8-Za9ZNRZ1aBvff6SCAN5VYY80BNy8F=w249-h128" width="249" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><b style="color: black; font-family: arial; font-size: xx-large;"><i>The blind man on the train</i></b></div><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif">Around 1973, travelling on the ferry-train from Paris to Calais to London, I found myself in a compartment with a blind man. Striking up a conversation, he asked me what my work was. “A visual artist? Tell me about your work”. Alas, every sentence I started, every description was totally inadequate. “I can appreciate sculpture”, he said, moving his hands in space as he modelled the shapes and forms he “saw”. “But what is this transparent, glowing watercolour you’re talking about?” </span><span>Well, er, it’s like a stained-glass window, but with white paper shining through the transparent colours. “Really? How do you experience a stained-glass window?” It turned out that he was blind from birth.</span></span></div></span></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="color: #444444;">I felt as stupid as George W. Bush must have felt, after he spontaneously waved to Stevie Wonder. I had to force myself to abandon all my arty clichés and to search for alternative descriptors linked to our feelings for hot and cold, our senses of space, taste and in particular, the </span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="color: #444444;"><i>sounds</i></span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="color: #444444;"> of colour. </span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="color: #444444;"><i>Now</i></span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="color: #444444;"> he was in his element. He was a piano-tuner.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="color: #444444;">We found each other through my <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Synesthesia">Synesthesia</a> and the composer Scriabin, who shared this sensation. I could enthuse about the shimmering blue-green of a high F# and he was with me, shivering in delight; or the warm bath of burnt sienna drawn from a B</span><span face=""ms ゴシック"" style="color: #444444;"><span><b>♭</b></span></span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="color: #444444;">- he snuggled down into his overcoat; or the khaki of a D#, hesitating somewhere between the taste of golden syrup and olives, before moving on to E major juicy apple green - his gestures reflected that transition. We had found a common language!</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: arial;">He could also "hear" the squelchy or rasping drag of my</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: arial;"> brush, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: arial;">making contact with or lifting off the paper at various speeds, dancing in all directions, He sensed abstract forms beginning to emerge from my choreography. Ha! Now we had both form and colour.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgmmBIHF0MXyEC-EPpu8rXd9KT6dfs9W9Em8GgfkCbZ3e_6NvDWFQUdkaPL6kBnB8T_vTtBSAxa5NMg6rh2t4WW4SomCABIZUKPFcGIgHT3TrlirL6H7sLdYdLm_5NcT0qIctfD4rSMEQmPkmqyieHSY0lAByCo9o08KqXDTxiwIEg4S4OXmD3A9HQA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1425" data-original-width="2152" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgmmBIHF0MXyEC-EPpu8rXd9KT6dfs9W9Em8GgfkCbZ3e_6NvDWFQUdkaPL6kBnB8T_vTtBSAxa5NMg6rh2t4WW4SomCABIZUKPFcGIgHT3TrlirL6H7sLdYdLm_5NcT0qIctfD4rSMEQmPkmqyieHSY0lAByCo9o08KqXDTxiwIEg4S4OXmD3A9HQA=w421-h279" width="421" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #444444;">Scriabin: </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #444444;">Poem of Ecstasy, </i></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> painting on overhead projectors with the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra in 2010</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">Several years would go by before I realised that the great passion of my life would be to draw inspiration from music to create fluid kinetic paintings that have no final tangible form. Painted on overhead projectors, when they have faded to black at the end of a performance - like the music, they have gone for ever. This ephemeral art form nevertheless retains a dynamic presence in your memory, your imagination and your soul.</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg0iOa9Pb5szW_wweQKg0aVS3lemVnFW3IKPiRUfiLg8sro4GtzJKwVIvTA-wAXRdeCZzrj0WYYgknTDgrcpgcZIgrhekBB_ro5BC1H4MpYjVfvSiwNqG1mJGjkboc2N2vW09OXKz68MgCq7yudTkhJ3iaOcxja7CtJyJI5oKIhF4VO7wo3DYuIrFPY" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1305" data-original-width="1627" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg0iOa9Pb5szW_wweQKg0aVS3lemVnFW3IKPiRUfiLg8sro4GtzJKwVIvTA-wAXRdeCZzrj0WYYgknTDgrcpgcZIgrhekBB_ro5BC1H4MpYjVfvSiwNqG1mJGjkboc2N2vW09OXKz68MgCq7yudTkhJ3iaOcxja7CtJyJI5oKIhF4VO7wo3DYuIrFPY=w415-h333" width="415" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; text-align: justify;"></span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #444444;"> </span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #444444;">Overlapping fluid c</span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #444444;">olours painted live to the chords of </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: arial;"><i>Cloches d'adieu...</i></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: arial;"> by Tristan Murail,</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: arial;"> played together with pianist Pierre-Laurent Aimard in Aldeburgh, Helsinki and Salzburg</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #444444;">After the train had pulled into Victoria Station and we had parted company</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: arial;">, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: arial;">I hoped that perhaps been able to offer this blind man enough for his imagination to complete a work of art</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: arial;">with all the elements of a continuous painting – a painting that would sing and that he could accompany at the piano.</span></span></p><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgdteykIec2f-2gRuyHfyM5ddik9GM37cyjFsckzMo0fX33QULxY5GpceIE2YpL0lkYIhIpZvLzzAcYF-q7H1ZOzy7uk8v74LyR8QzZOaU8uYT7CQORHc0VEBfosCJX3XgY5D1wMjyMo25pblXxbsLhxx1RICLbPtppJJ1P66cj6WZRvvTRYzPYBZni" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2230" data-original-width="4025" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgdteykIec2f-2gRuyHfyM5ddik9GM37cyjFsckzMo0fX33QULxY5GpceIE2YpL0lkYIhIpZvLzzAcYF-q7H1ZOzy7uk8v74LyR8QzZOaU8uYT7CQORHc0VEBfosCJX3XgY5D1wMjyMo25pblXxbsLhxx1RICLbPtppJJ1P66cj6WZRvvTRYzPYBZni=w432-h239" width="432" /></a></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;">Scriabin: <i>Prometheus: The Poem of Fire</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;">painted live with the National Orchestra of Belgium in 2013</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; font-size: large; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">I shall never forget the challenge and joy of that conversation with the blind man in the train. How satisfying it can be to open up to a stranger and discover a common language! Perhaps a useful tip for any of us today, in a world that seems to be awash with suspicion, fear and mistrust of those different from ourselves, or those with whom we don't see eye to eye.</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">________________________________________________</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">P.S. This is an amended version of my blog from 2012, prompted by the joys of this year's autumn colours.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; text-align: justify;"></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><br /><p></p>Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-14412060800670424892022-09-30T12:07:00.000+02:002022-09-30T12:07:23.711+02:00How Daniel's Hope@Home series inspired a portrait<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFm34nwckmVNDa8CggfZEF3qzflh-s5ml6FUZ3oIqHVYW4J28llUgslI8RMuOFmlK5JHiKx0Fz-12LmtK8x0vObesPLXUplXrrr1FWe_6QxUbV58se78mtoiynQayL4Xp3vDanbgg9l8U/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="1000" height="124" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFm34nwckmVNDa8CggfZEF3qzflh-s5ml6FUZ3oIqHVYW4J28llUgslI8RMuOFmlK5JHiKx0Fz-12LmtK8x0vObesPLXUplXrrr1FWe_6QxUbV58se78mtoiynQayL4Xp3vDanbgg9l8U/w241-h124/Signature.jpg" width="241" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>How Daniel's Hope@Home series </i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>inspired a portrait</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ever since the violinist Daniel Hope came to my Amsterdam studio in 2015 to make plans to perform music and kinetic painting together</span><span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b>*</b></span><span style="font-size: large;"> I wanted to make a portrait of him in action. He interviewed me about the nature of my work, with our dear friend Yehudi Menuhin in the background.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEicK_lyvOVh2qubnR5jitbw-khDDR6fzx81Xd-gyG4E4QmHASuwbCdZ4eGjOx6Xs82WW3eIt4rKORl7Ti5D-p0Bh1UmnafrWGUZ6uwwOTWIweWl-hwmErw2UTxWbypX1kM4YHuNfdWO45v69LFp6bCDpoK2PdXc6FQ1LBz1m8j8ywjcb-S8y2-73gKb=s375" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="285" data-original-width="375" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEicK_lyvOVh2qubnR5jitbw-khDDR6fzx81Xd-gyG4E4QmHASuwbCdZ4eGjOx6Xs82WW3eIt4rKORl7Ti5D-p0Bh1UmnafrWGUZ6uwwOTWIweWl-hwmErw2UTxWbypX1kM4YHuNfdWO45v69LFp6bCDpoK2PdXc6FQ1LBz1m8j8ywjcb-S8y2-73gKb=w329-h250" width="329" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">The opportunity and inspiration finally presented itself when on March 25th. 2020 Daniel launched his acclaimed </span><i style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hope@Home</span></i><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"> recitals, streamed daily from his living-room in Berlin during the lockdown and watched by millions. From the word go, it was clear to me that here was a priceless source of audio-visual references for a portrait-painting. I studied every one of those performances and was entranced throughout. I can finally show you the result, with my comments below.</span></div></span></div></span></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKXbG3pMyZnlwYOhFhhMSsuauFGwEY8s84ePjt437VXs0JzNtyptxsM6e4Y9xRF0eSygk3DBXVb7r8hZDi_3-x875byScVb0dgb4fdMFv51B4v3Y4OpOOAc5gxw6zONpRnegQ6xBke0UGP3gcS1LYlu3UouWSGpGGiFwQCYcZkQtVKG5tXvPo__l1q/s2585/Daniel%20Hope.%20final%20version%20-%20Version%202.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2585" data-original-width="1848" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKXbG3pMyZnlwYOhFhhMSsuauFGwEY8s84ePjt437VXs0JzNtyptxsM6e4Y9xRF0eSygk3DBXVb7r8hZDi_3-x875byScVb0dgb4fdMFv51B4v3Y4OpOOAc5gxw6zONpRnegQ6xBke0UGP3gcS1LYlu3UouWSGpGGiFwQCYcZkQtVKG5tXvPo__l1q/w457-h640/Daniel%20Hope.%20final%20version%20-%20Version%202.JPG" width="457" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Daniel Hope, watercolour 77 x 55 cm, 2020</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">It was quite a challenge to find a way to visualize Daniel's energy, warmth, enthusiasm and intense focus, all in one painting. I could have made ten! But I put together multiple impressions to show how Daniel is seriously <i>enjoying</i> the music, saying, with that characteristic turn of the mouth: hey, listen to this! He's a masterful communicator. His gaze also betrays a deep emotional response to this music. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">The free brushstrokes of this watercolour express Daniel's enterprise and flair, without detracting from his and my attention to detail. I've placed the outer edges of the warm picture-frame on the golden section to underline the balance of the whole. Every other element of my apparently relaxed composition directs our focus to that small area where the momentary contact of bow, fingers and strings produce beautiful music, from a musician who is completely at one with his instrument.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">All my thanks, Daniel, for your ongoing inspiration.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">_________________________________________________</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: red;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">*</span></b> </span><span style="font-size: large;">We did indeed perform music and painting together in Berlin and Lübeck in 2016 to celebrate the Yehudi Menuhin Centenary. Painting live kinetic images to Ravel's "Kaddish" with Daniel and pianist Sebastian Knauer was one of the most moving experiences of my life. I also performed with Daniel's Zürich Chamber Orchestra in 2018. The</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span> theatrical highlight was undoubtedly Stravinsky's <i>The Soldier's Tale </i>in Essen </span>with, Daniel, Benno Schollum and Katja Riemann on June 23rd. 2018, the evening before my 85th birthday. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">________________________________________________</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here's the video-link to my <a href="https://youtu.be/uZwSTBFHB0M">Studio rehearsal for Ravel's "Kaddish"</a> (piano Jacques Ammon).<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Many of the Hope@Home recitals can still be found on YouTube. </span></div><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br />Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-68224671091511096122022-08-06T08:29:00.007+02:002022-08-06T12:16:03.316+02:00The beautiful solitude of nature<p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhEpASNb5RTbwzFQwsXzZP881edYOrX3YnV6dwPEaYCUv6eVEx1weUvAhBHu_CuN7gU55Gwir15N1Wt0zQVW9Luf5YihyX3KfKUkXGG4ZrWStnp2JaTe592Tljl4zCxIzjqA4fCnuQaFgVR_JBLXpoxFDmfK-7M-PJJMTTBTHmwm9u9HtUD5GUh3Qlb" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="126" data-original-width="245" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhEpASNb5RTbwzFQwsXzZP881edYOrX3YnV6dwPEaYCUv6eVEx1weUvAhBHu_CuN7gU55Gwir15N1Wt0zQVW9Luf5YihyX3KfKUkXGG4ZrWStnp2JaTe592Tljl4zCxIzjqA4fCnuQaFgVR_JBLXpoxFDmfK-7M-PJJMTTBTHmwm9u9HtUD5GUh3Qlb=w267-h138" width="267" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><i><b>The beautiful solitude of nature</b></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">My pilot is flying his <i>De Havilland Beaver</i> seaplane close above the small islands and inlets off Vancouver Island, bending and weaving his route northward, with only an occasional tiny ferryboat below. Sitting in the cockpit with a sketchbook on my lap</span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">,</span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I'm sketching frantically with a thick pencil, breathless with the beauty of this unique viewpoint, one that changes every second.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> We are alone, communing with nature. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Westward is the vast Pacific. </span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">I feel so small and intensely a</span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">ware of the ephemeral nature of human life on our beautiful planet.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In the summer of 1988 I was on Vancouver Island to give workshops. I stayed at the chalet of my dear friend, the excellent Victoria artist and art educator Fleming Jorgensen. He got me that flight over the islands. (I was not to know that his colleague, the watercolour artist Toni Onley, who flew his own sea-plane in search of inspiration, was later to crash into the deep). But w</span><span style="font-family: arial;">e were then on a high with creative plans; he was intensely enamoured of a lovely Brazilian lady, so I dashed off a portrait for him in an hour or so. But their love was not to last. Fleming too has passed. I miss him and many other friends from those days.</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisOUzBJBHCJd_AE9zEmEVGxjIIsgJYzsW4kFZsu8hxCCquHI084bkeF-NRcZFSE7COGw6Za_okQxjZofluYvDvsi7kKUhzuvlG_hYHjn8Z-ZkUscpqSx9Y6LwAXTr2Y_nuAJm5QcgrApoNSesEhJH-8mz8VaHGYEyTtxNCg_e-SKESfjkrokKrYO6s/s3594/IMG-2320.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3594" data-original-width="2664" height="342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisOUzBJBHCJd_AE9zEmEVGxjIIsgJYzsW4kFZsu8hxCCquHI084bkeF-NRcZFSE7COGw6Za_okQxjZofluYvDvsi7kKUhzuvlG_hYHjn8Z-ZkUscpqSx9Y6LwAXTr2Y_nuAJm5QcgrApoNSesEhJH-8mz8VaHGYEyTtxNCg_e-SKESfjkrokKrYO6s/w254-h342/IMG-2320.jpg" width="254" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ZBtQgz8g7TRxqmJo6p0JDVXRrLYc9wJXSZRxVT0yFKGc6r1ox3JKaHHVw_DMAUtoyg5P78-nMRRlqFggXlgP3gwoD2eWOs9oO6EYpvQnO2AtIR9qrUJ5Z6GDw9wxMGkhd0yHgN9byRw5P-tTR2pLjCVCqlJ6faPibVEQCXX_ZmrPWxKGKL-brkBw/s1643/F1000027.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1643" data-original-width="1141" height="343" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ZBtQgz8g7TRxqmJo6p0JDVXRrLYc9wJXSZRxVT0yFKGc6r1ox3JKaHHVw_DMAUtoyg5P78-nMRRlqFggXlgP3gwoD2eWOs9oO6EYpvQnO2AtIR9qrUJ5Z6GDw9wxMGkhd0yHgN9byRw5P-tTR2pLjCVCqlJ6faPibVEQCXX_ZmrPWxKGKL-brkBw/w238-h343/F1000027.JPG" width="238" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: arial;">Fleming Jorgensen A Brazilian lady</i></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">In my Amsterdam studio, I recently rediscovered</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> those urgent sketches made thirty-four years ago and was overcome by acute nostalgia. So </span><span style="font-family: arial;">I decided to re-live my amazing experience in those ever-changing aerial views of nature, in the form of two semi-abstract watercolours. By freely creating islands of colour nestling in the deeps and shallows, I rediscovered the beautiful solitude of nature. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I dared</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> to let my watercolours flow and bleed organically, naturally forming their own textures and patterns. I heard the floating sounds of music: woodwinds, shakuhachi, bass saxophone and Tan Dun's water percussion.</span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIBcKDCeBTtKLUvFSO76r1_cp-zuDXMp2fRXYGVD-DfiRiMi03PD1yvH3hUPVjC6Zbjg6cUNi7ETAENAbhZ3JlibwVCRP9ecKFXFgjLpr0THSP_X6coXGJCOic3I2ATh6IuGkNVtudFrWlrxTVA-njy9Q0bnYNOHAV6JNKQl4XFarajMZRkaMlAHN-/s3735/Vancouver%20Latest.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2543" data-original-width="3735" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIBcKDCeBTtKLUvFSO76r1_cp-zuDXMp2fRXYGVD-DfiRiMi03PD1yvH3hUPVjC6Zbjg6cUNi7ETAENAbhZ3JlibwVCRP9ecKFXFgjLpr0THSP_X6coXGJCOic3I2ATh6IuGkNVtudFrWlrxTVA-njy9Q0bnYNOHAV6JNKQl4XFarajMZRkaMlAHN-/w575-h392/Vancouver%20Latest.jpg" width="575" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>Solitude above Vancouver Islands, watercolour, 43 x 62 cm. 2022</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">In the second painting my tiny seaplane further explores those monumental peaks and depths. We briefly touched down at the foot of the background peak for a ten-second splash in that icy waterfall. That really took my breath away!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCiZ-C3xUsE-Ipg_AJ6jqRvkwWvVVRxIsznHGd4AqGWeprXPEwiJdIQu6rjsMRyZ4gazjEzkBxgknRsXOCCKljC2sl61WW13FedqLpYcffjXb82Hgn47iA8acs_HGduPPK8G00rikDEYOfTCR7NduxfOZPPkgdZuQhApMATHUi1GtY7U4Oo0Up-E08/s3829/3b.%20Searching%20above%20the%20Islands,%2066%20x%2046%20cm,%202022.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3829" data-original-width="2677" height="564" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCiZ-C3xUsE-Ipg_AJ6jqRvkwWvVVRxIsznHGd4AqGWeprXPEwiJdIQu6rjsMRyZ4gazjEzkBxgknRsXOCCKljC2sl61WW13FedqLpYcffjXb82Hgn47iA8acs_HGduPPK8G00rikDEYOfTCR7NduxfOZPPkgdZuQhApMATHUi1GtY7U4Oo0Up-E08/w395-h564/3b.%20Searching%20above%20the%20Islands,%2066%20x%2046%20cm,%202022.jpg" width="395" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Exploring heights and depths of Vancouver islands, watercolour 66 x 46 cm, 2022</i></div></i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div> <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /> <p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-75986070030642442292022-07-02T18:39:00.011+02:002022-07-03T10:44:08.428+02:00A fond farewell to my piano<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjSWeqd3YQ-FPODMwqQXd26fBbz0EkkZMjNtm8Mq4xIwvpqPd5NZoAMxeoIHYk_mrzvyWLIWnfIYqZcXG95zxd5kJbYn6l5LPohUmXLV70f-GR19rycPbKz4UKwLcdsOj3z_V78y_up2D1iv60HcsvjCNOYfbr1LHTijKebI4XVjaLR7yhm6t2kpw8n" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="1000" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjSWeqd3YQ-FPODMwqQXd26fBbz0EkkZMjNtm8Mq4xIwvpqPd5NZoAMxeoIHYk_mrzvyWLIWnfIYqZcXG95zxd5kJbYn6l5LPohUmXLV70f-GR19rycPbKz4UKwLcdsOj3z_V78y_up2D1iv60HcsvjCNOYfbr1LHTijKebI4XVjaLR7yhm6t2kpw8n=w245-h126" width="245" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><h1 style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>A fond farewell to my piano</i></b></span></h1><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">In 1974 I lived in Geneva, Switzerland and I was looking for a cellist to participate in a film for <i>Télévision Suisse Romande </i>featuring my kinetic painting with music and dance. Someone mentioned the American cellist <a href="https://normanperryman.blogspot.com/2013/01/vivian-king-1944-96.html">Vivian King</a>, who was then studying with the great Pierre Fournier. We made an appointment. I was about to ring Vivian's doorbell when I heard the sound of the Bach's Cello Suite Nr. 2. I was enchanted.</span></div><div style="font-size: x-large; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">In Vivian's apartment I noticed a rather nice <i>Zimmermann</i> piano. Curious, I tried a couple of bars of a Beethoven sonata. Oh, Vivian said - you're also a musician! Well, that's a long story. That was the beginning of twenty-one years of making music together.</span></div><div style="font-size: x-large; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">In 1978 we settled in Amsterdam, near the Concertgebouw, where Vivian began to play regularly. The piano was hauled up (with ropes!) to our fourth floor apartment and that's where our sons both learned to play the piano.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjz3h10pAwZSfMcOYPfcCFT2C5j3p2__Nwa6ZWe1OGoZQJsb5x3Z3OzwsEsfLujf5GBBqSnz7aXxUFhw6bevbQ8wKpef_zQKjIzIM9uF_41K_PgM1qNC50mJMjdVUJJtg_HiWyZ640v3O4nSpTFjxDDLVAuZRSmeR2J6A5dIsj3g6AJ56p5e-Csd2vg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2183" data-original-width="2892" height="393" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjz3h10pAwZSfMcOYPfcCFT2C5j3p2__Nwa6ZWe1OGoZQJsb5x3Z3OzwsEsfLujf5GBBqSnz7aXxUFhw6bevbQ8wKpef_zQKjIzIM9uF_41K_PgM1qNC50mJMjdVUJJtg_HiWyZ640v3O4nSpTFjxDDLVAuZRSmeR2J6A5dIsj3g6AJ56p5e-Csd2vg=w521-h393" width="521" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Vivian and Norman playing Francœur's <i>Adagio for BBC</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">When in 1993 BBC Television was visiting to make a documentary about my life making kinetic images to music, Director Jonathan Fulford said spontaneously: "Hey, why don't you guys just play something together?" Oh no! I had been so busy working in the UK and Amsterdam on the film "<a href="https://youtu.be/ehLd5sl-mTo">Concerto for Paintbrush and Orchestra</a>" with Simon Rattle that I hadn't touched the piano for months. But Vivian said "Ah, why don't we do the first Movement of the Sonata by François Francœur. She knew it by heart and somehow, with just two takes, I managed to get through it. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Vivian was already ill with acute leukaemia and tragically, she died three years later at 51. Her cello was acquired by our dear friend, the cellist Edith Neuman (formerly of the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra). In 2021 <a href="https://normanperryman.blogspot.com/2021/01/the-big-move-after-thirty-five-years.html">I moved house</a> and had to radically downsize, so I donated my piano to a lovely crowd-funded socio-cultural centre in Amsterdam - <i>Pondok</i>. It was a fond goodbye, watching it going down to street-level with a piano lift, but I knew it had found a good home.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6NrgUzQTRPdD2r4bmLkxS8qo5BVp5lEBLVbfPzd3E7M_8gs2qjDIT3IzkrPJNtpE0g9qDWBaKicg1UBYYZkYAMycEg6QRGCExKn_qmo2613VRGTMCV61uA4vv-kCpXrsDX16bwX0JPR7it_4Tx9DogzbIHRGIVhKb3VD7IlqymdZzMQ2tI8KCYIAq/s3501/20201216_153219.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3501" data-original-width="2460" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6NrgUzQTRPdD2r4bmLkxS8qo5BVp5lEBLVbfPzd3E7M_8gs2qjDIT3IzkrPJNtpE0g9qDWBaKicg1UBYYZkYAMycEg6QRGCExKn_qmo2613VRGTMCV61uA4vv-kCpXrsDX16bwX0JPR7it_4Tx9DogzbIHRGIVhKb3VD7IlqymdZzMQ2tI8KCYIAq/s320/20201216_153219.jpg" width="225" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiouYdLTbf3d9oAi9Fl_MjwOiHiG0ylKfrEkPp2ABtup5RRpTKpPFC_CEH5lVY_62yGXLNv8OwZ9GbT8Y3gmabnZgOMTFs94xZk0Y1h1iUFr3jsixtOcZDl0dgDOpuXN7GO6dNatdtGhklZdXyzrmq_eu4LEl8ljsLJVCohUlw_TlwpabUxSSf88NR9/s3858/20201216_153404.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3858" data-original-width="2511" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiouYdLTbf3d9oAi9Fl_MjwOiHiG0ylKfrEkPp2ABtup5RRpTKpPFC_CEH5lVY_62yGXLNv8OwZ9GbT8Y3gmabnZgOMTFs94xZk0Y1h1iUFr3jsixtOcZDl0dgDOpuXN7GO6dNatdtGhklZdXyzrmq_eu4LEl8ljsLJVCohUlw_TlwpabUxSSf88NR9/s320/20201216_153404.jpg" width="208" /></a></span></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday, after twenty-six years, my piano and Vivian's cello were finally re-united. They made music together at a little concert by the Meander Trio. And yes, with pianist Jenny Hess, Edith played that <i>Adagio</i> of the Sonata by François Francœur.... in memory of Vivian. It was a deeply emotional occasion for me and my boys.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixnRos8VyhdyD4PKeAOt9dzSApyxBRmpNcma9QHd1o88lH0zatLg-HY0ooA2azBI-vcqR3vFJNDSr0lvvrDS-KZ_2cuF-G3pYhAIgYXBs2lUZFXccKVECgruHh2PBar96DCeTulZGHv2GBCzRAfZOPaHts-kLd-xGcdUanu4GEburMXu20YgTZhbbE/s726/20220701_191131.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="574" data-original-width="726" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixnRos8VyhdyD4PKeAOt9dzSApyxBRmpNcma9QHd1o88lH0zatLg-HY0ooA2azBI-vcqR3vFJNDSr0lvvrDS-KZ_2cuF-G3pYhAIgYXBs2lUZFXccKVECgruHh2PBar96DCeTulZGHv2GBCzRAfZOPaHts-kLd-xGcdUanu4GEburMXu20YgTZhbbE/w517-h408/20220701_191131.jpeg" width="517" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Edith Neuman (cello) and Jenny Hess (piano) reuniting my old friends</div><span style="font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: center;">__________________________________________________</div></span></div><div style="font-size: x-large; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here's Pierre Fournier with the Francœur on YouTube. <a href="https://youtu.be/aUqqgPASxIg">https://youtu.be/aUqqgPASxIg</a><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="font-size: x-large; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="font-size: x-large; text-align: left;"><br /></div></span><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div></span></div></div><p></p>Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-49873990197195505062022-05-30T15:45:00.001+02:002022-05-30T18:11:26.707+02:00An exploration<p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjj8vsvAb2zoTVy3rpAQpgbXZOb5kN1QqGBfw7a7meX5RnHEQgFr0RB6LQERbmuobwcfIX_pdJZhZjEik4pL_MXTdNzaKwYyEvSmNpOoCDLoI7lwqczBTfWNo0owWNx-N7eKFoRltTHd7rcX029CEKza-byLVlSv7ZcCoRmWKtO5ScjmbNwL-cqHv0_" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="1000" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjj8vsvAb2zoTVy3rpAQpgbXZOb5kN1QqGBfw7a7meX5RnHEQgFr0RB6LQERbmuobwcfIX_pdJZhZjEik4pL_MXTdNzaKwYyEvSmNpOoCDLoI7lwqczBTfWNo0owWNx-N7eKFoRltTHd7rcX029CEKza-byLVlSv7ZcCoRmWKtO5ScjmbNwL-cqHv0_=w235-h120" width="235" /></a></div><br /><b style="color: #674ea7; font-family: arial; font-size: xx-large;"><i> An exploration</i></b><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">My previous painting (see <a href="https://normanperryman.blogspot.com/2022/05/forever-in-clouds.html">"Forever in the clouds"</a>) was to be one of a series. But my brushes came up with other ideas. My freely-brushed deep purple zigzag strokes, fading into mauve towards the horizon below, turned into an optimistic calligraphy taking us way up into a vast space. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Then a kind of sadness came over me. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Was it the worldwide tsunami of negative news - becoming unbearable in my old age?</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> My only comfort was to be found in my palette of colours and my brushes.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-family: arial;">So intuitively I gently began to surround my initial strokes with pastel greyish greens, blues and pinks, helping the pools of colour to float and meet up in space.</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">I began to develop</span></span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"> small dynamic conversations </span><span style="font-family: arial;">across the whole picture. Bit by bit, I was modulating from a minor key towards</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> light and hope, even in the darkest tones</span><span style="font-family: arial;">. I was determined to find beauty in my sadness.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizfPfSdVUg6xDjjPcRUmB7CRUm5o6shFJq34y4s56aK_SFvrMGM6tTbObiIzzYxnWsiMxjDG0nfvFoCBz-0g80vEa7QnTopcjhD0dys6FtLxFOTEt3sFqaMd_FxI1fYo0h-KlytjToK-8vPL8xds8g3rBtLj8N3xW9i4JFdtHo8qWqgaZ1admpSPmB/s2322/Mysterious%20sky.watercolour,%20approx%2060%20x%2040%20cm.%202022%20final..jpeg" style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-large; font-weight: 700; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2322" data-original-width="1549" height="774" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizfPfSdVUg6xDjjPcRUmB7CRUm5o6shFJq34y4s56aK_SFvrMGM6tTbObiIzzYxnWsiMxjDG0nfvFoCBz-0g80vEa7QnTopcjhD0dys6FtLxFOTEt3sFqaMd_FxI1fYo0h-KlytjToK-8vPL8xds8g3rBtLj8N3xW9i4JFdtHo8qWqgaZ1admpSPmB/w515-h774/Mysterious%20sky.watercolour,%20approx%2060%20x%2040%20cm.%202022%20final..jpeg" width="515" /></a></p><p style="text-align: left;"><b style="color: #674ea7; font-family: arial; text-align: center;"> An exploration, watercolour 62 x 45 cm, 2022</b></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"></p><p></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: Times; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span style="font-family: arial;">So this is not just another cloudscape. It's an exploration of space</span><span style="font-family: arial;">. </span></span><span style="font-family: arial;">Enlarge the details: you might find some lovely little surprises. </span></span></p>Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-36007085551461263512022-05-20T19:05:00.006+02:002022-05-21T09:04:45.368+02:00Forever in the clouds<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgsLq4nQKyXwWibHuiKRBNTXuoIdPVQ_avizQFW5L4BVUya7JaTTF49cvqvl5rMxJgYsPQeZxEPr7o6mHfDQLxzAyddN44y4xX3Ur3w8zVXdzueNdn--0u6qvxl-o6bFC8kgdlolgOCuKMMYQxRGaxE5JquIm8U9Zz4Qr2iDMgdzg9dmGnF7gbGQSe2" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="1000" height="108" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgsLq4nQKyXwWibHuiKRBNTXuoIdPVQ_avizQFW5L4BVUya7JaTTF49cvqvl5rMxJgYsPQeZxEPr7o6mHfDQLxzAyddN44y4xX3Ur3w8zVXdzueNdn--0u6qvxl-o6bFC8kgdlolgOCuKMMYQxRGaxE5JquIm8U9Zz4Qr2iDMgdzg9dmGnF7gbGQSe2=w211-h108" width="211" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>Forever in the clouds</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; text-align: left;">I'm in my studio, inspired by the soothing flow of <a href="Each rāga is an array of melodic structures with musical motifs, considered in the Indian tradition to have the ability to "colour the mind" and affect the emotions of the audience.[1][2][5]">Ragas</a>, </span></span><span><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: left;">melodic structures, considered in the Indian tradition to have the ability to "colour the mind" and affect the emotions of the listener. </span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; letter-spacing: 0.2px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">I'm in the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flow_(psychology)#Components">Flow</a>, </span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; letter-spacing: 0.2px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">so totally involved that I forget the time, </span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">fully immersed, as I paint pools of watercolour</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: large; text-align: left;"> that you might call clouds.</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: large; text-align: left;">My coffee gets cold...</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqgstETLvTE2rqG1tgUBmsILx40BLMS16Q1w0OFdlb1kb4oOrER3uTUkC7-he8pKwaLEdUX4AbF6xRyHqfu22Nii3IYr8buFMjM-HEeXGMVmRKV1OE1xIbFjziaf896i5zcHt3NbjYRd63sG9K0VAzSRZ3l_0a2VsE6w-KESNrg2sYxwxpUu__GFRq/s3011/IMG-1979.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2710" data-original-width="3011" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqgstETLvTE2rqG1tgUBmsILx40BLMS16Q1w0OFdlb1kb4oOrER3uTUkC7-he8pKwaLEdUX4AbF6xRyHqfu22Nii3IYr8buFMjM-HEeXGMVmRKV1OE1xIbFjziaf896i5zcHt3NbjYRd63sG9K0VAzSRZ3l_0a2VsE6w-KESNrg2sYxwxpUu__GFRq/w341-h307/IMG-1979.jpg" width="341" /></a></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Vietnamese Buddhist monk and master of Mindfulness, <a href="https://plumvillage.org/thich-nhat-hanh/">Thich Nhat Hanh</a>, the activist for world-peace who passed away in January 2022, was convinced that human Mindfulness and compassion is a continuous positive state of mind that we can develop, share with others and pass on to future generations. It doesn't disappear when our body disintegrates. The energy that we have shared will take on different forms, just as rain or snow are other forms of ever-changing clouds. Our messages have no digital limitations. They are forever universally available as part of the Cosmos.</span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwJNsIH6twdHckqiPTOm46YeymbcG-RhdKWvWZAP-4myRGko1KWkNT4b8-4jV2hYUD7SAbzD_gg4_hLX72V65QFOz77rtZUVXT-fW6SFjaOLKedWSCGmjakkzZ24rpEy9bHTChXUjuyUCtxWrMICrPUl6io354I9UxdfmE2PP35-94jEFndEFGbE_y/s2448/Forever%20in%20the%20clouds,%20watercolour%2051%20x%2042%20cm,%202022.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="1970" height="683" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwJNsIH6twdHckqiPTOm46YeymbcG-RhdKWvWZAP-4myRGko1KWkNT4b8-4jV2hYUD7SAbzD_gg4_hLX72V65QFOz77rtZUVXT-fW6SFjaOLKedWSCGmjakkzZ24rpEy9bHTChXUjuyUCtxWrMICrPUl6io354I9UxdfmE2PP35-94jEFndEFGbE_y/w551-h683/Forever%20in%20the%20clouds,%20watercolour%2051%20x%2042%20cm,%202022.jpg" width="551" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Forever in the clouds</i>, watercolour 51 x 42 cm.</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> 2022</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">__________________________________________</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc; font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><br /><p></p>Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-76663583988056497462022-04-11T15:32:00.001+02:002022-04-11T17:03:58.526+02:00Rest in Peace<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjtpkjE-1IfFUIehFHXyggiqquqpPPeBzyd_jGmj1Tz8MNgihbnh3J4rDBsLQxC5bqV82mc1sJVuAQDxc5z5dQ2MfGZEedH02yql0DQ2jQ5eCPLW08JQ0jzACrfDSKwvoBbrALj2P9Pqa_raMq5LFvFVJ-sV6FWQ8N4bWpukX2qJM6crYDP6ZZXMNRX" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="1000" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjtpkjE-1IfFUIehFHXyggiqquqpPPeBzyd_jGmj1Tz8MNgihbnh3J4rDBsLQxC5bqV82mc1sJVuAQDxc5z5dQ2MfGZEedH02yql0DQ2jQ5eCPLW08JQ0jzACrfDSKwvoBbrALj2P9Pqa_raMq5LFvFVJ-sV6FWQ8N4bWpukX2qJM6crYDP6ZZXMNRX=w260-h133" width="260" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>Rest in Peace</i></b></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">I'm lying on the massage table with my old aches and pains under the strong yet gentle hands of my holistic masseuse. For me she always puts on a CD of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raga">Ragas</a></span><span face=""Droid regular", sans-serif" style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 0.2px;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> (in Sanskrit the word also means colouring), classical Indian music that affects our emotions and wellbeing. From the very first long tone I relax into what seems like a wonderful garden of continuously changing colours. For more than an hour I'm at peace with the world. If this were the very last experience of my life it would be a blessing. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face=""Droid regular", sans-serif" style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 0.2px;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"></span></span></p><p><span face=""Droid regular", sans-serif" style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 0.2px;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">There, on my bed of colours, I suddenly realised how fortunate I am. I consciously sent my loving thoughts to all those now terribly unfortunate, to the tragically bereaved mourning the loss of their loved ones, young and old, wherever they may be. At that moment I was inspired to make this abstract painting for them, with vibrant but gentle watercolours, a paradise where their loved ones may rest in peace.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face=""Droid regular", sans-serif" style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 0.2px;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6VKOgXffBVlQ0vAwoqB9_IBd53lK9bW4o8SW586S7plaAIyU3WcZzQbQYCRt28iO3uzpb_F9O6yBsTJRyCN1jIsCusZrKp3LfyyBFKefzcjr0nEl9-98rpcdQVezAg8JbYFbnFo4YBNFMW2oPra_CnVwAH1y4-pFMeRkH9-57SKZOYAnP5ow0n-lL/s2952/IMG-1831.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2952" data-original-width="1700" height="832" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6VKOgXffBVlQ0vAwoqB9_IBd53lK9bW4o8SW586S7plaAIyU3WcZzQbQYCRt28iO3uzpb_F9O6yBsTJRyCN1jIsCusZrKp3LfyyBFKefzcjr0nEl9-98rpcdQVezAg8JbYFbnFo4YBNFMW2oPra_CnVwAH1y4-pFMeRkH9-57SKZOYAnP5ow0n-lL/w478-h832/IMG-1831.jpeg" width="478" /></a></p> <span style="font-family: arial;">Rest in Peace, watercolour approx. 65 x 45 cm., 2022.</span><br /> ________________________________________________________________________________<p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><br /><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face=""Droid regular", sans-serif" style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 0.2px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face=""Droid regular", sans-serif" style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 0.2px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face=""Droid regular", sans-serif" style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: 0.2px;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></p>Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-32839881952230617802022-02-08T16:41:00.005+01:002022-02-09T19:07:56.782+01:00José Carreras turns seventy-five<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMLrnoz4cqvqB99EcnhXqLJDuK4Za4uZRwN-ZZZ_FJnMgsfZsweJSx6cfRVF3g27knnAmdRGZ5KFB7mlKOjLK3C096yquQZk9ksu5uJ0B7nAw91Ie6zZDuP-TVN5YZx2i7v5DFXTMNO8k/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="1000" height="164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMLrnoz4cqvqB99EcnhXqLJDuK4Za4uZRwN-ZZZ_FJnMgsfZsweJSx6cfRVF3g27knnAmdRGZ5KFB7mlKOjLK3C096yquQZk9ksu5uJ0B7nAw91Ie6zZDuP-TVN5YZx2i7v5DFXTMNO8k/" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="color: red; font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;"><b><i>A great tenor turns seventy-five</i></b></div><div style="color: red; font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;"><b><i> </i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">The tenor José Carreras turned seventy-five on December 5th. and I have fond memories of my contacts with him. In 1995 I was commissioned to make a painting of him for the Birmingham Symphony Hall Collection, for a Royal Gala Concert on May 4th, to raise funds for the <i>José Carreras International Leukaemia Foundation.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>Against all odds, Carreras</span><span style="color: #2e2c2f;"> was cured of acute leukaemia in 1988. As he put it: "I was one of the lucky few". His recovery and his subsequent concerts to raise funds for research and awareness attracted global admiration. </span><span face="brandon-grotesque, sans-serif" style="color: #2e2c2f;">It was in tribute to his courage that Luciano Pavarotti and Plácido Domingo joined him in 1990 for the first of the famous <i>The Three Tenors</i> concerts.</span></span></div></span><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #2e2c2f; font-family: brandon-grotesque, sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; padding: 0px;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDQukWYIU13W9knWWRJ1qa6XhPUMtmfJWkuyR85iqBJ2K7X8afgYMS7K0kiGt5SiSM3uFZedSlCRq_ESPlZsoYVmmGN7b29yzgEHgfwMSspG1x7b6SuuTtmQvbZdHuefVbUchszgSsSPE/s1600/image007.jpg" style="color: #3778cd; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" height="685" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDQukWYIU13W9knWWRJ1qa6XhPUMtmfJWkuyR85iqBJ2K7X8afgYMS7K0kiGt5SiSM3uFZedSlCRq_ESPlZsoYVmmGN7b29yzgEHgfwMSspG1x7b6SuuTtmQvbZdHuefVbUchszgSsSPE/w477-h685/image007.jpg" style="background: transparent; border-radius: 0px; border: 1px solid transparent; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 0px 0px; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="477" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 10.4px;"><b><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="font-size: small;">José Carreras, watercolour, 84 x 56cm, 1995</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: large;">Because José Carreras is a singer, everything revolves around his breathing. Despite the swirling colour, José's characteristically extended hands give great stability to the painting, like the base of a pyramid. Our eye is drawn up to where the apex of the pyramid should be, in the white space just in front of his open mouth, from which we expect to hear the sound of that powerful voice.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">Uncannily, the timing of this commission coincided with the period when my wife, the cellist Vivian King,</span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"> was in hospital with yes - acute leukaemia. The emotional pressure was enormous. Half the day at the studio, trying to finish the painting whilst expecting yet another phone call from the hospital, announcing a new crisis. José was a fellow musician whose survival was legendary. He sent us his good wishes, and I played his recordings to Vivian as she endured radiation and chemotherapy, giving us courage, inspiration and harmony. Think of Franck's 'Panis angelicus', Puccini's tragic aria 'E lucevan le stelle' (Tosca) and, in particular, 'Che gelida manina' (La Bohème). </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">This watercolour was literally painted with many tears, completed and signed on the day Vivian received rich-red new bone-marrow, a day of hope which alas, was not to be fulfilled.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">I felt the need to make a contribution to the Carreras fund for leukaemia-research, so in October 1996 I joined José Carreras, Amanda Roocroft and the Hallé Orchestra for a huge fund-raising concert in Manchester. I painted fluid kinetic paintings <i>live</i> to the music: Lara's "Granada", Dvorák's "Song to the Moon", Verdi's "Brindisi" and a whole range of popular classics, all for the good cause. The amazing Martin<span style="color: #282829; font-family: arial;">† and Gillian Lawson co-produced this unforgettable event and immediately became dear friends and fans.</span></span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">__________________________________________________</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #2e2c2f; font-family: brandon-grotesque, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p></p></div>Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-78683004678659771332021-09-16T08:16:00.001+02:002021-09-16T08:53:31.666+02:00Misa Criolla<p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijIHNrEvYIUB0jApE5RRVb7xTlsFqTOcltmhXU2FaJ8qk0C2GqRN4H3yWt4tdy3sZdMGDi2v0k8F0tb2D_M8_OtLIhl1hBkeElZQkbYn4KAOzbgc9t6nZET3d2SO0IjcbqWfjbTiCMQKk/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="1000" height="127" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijIHNrEvYIUB0jApE5RRVb7xTlsFqTOcltmhXU2FaJ8qk0C2GqRN4H3yWt4tdy3sZdMGDi2v0k8F0tb2D_M8_OtLIhl1hBkeElZQkbYn4KAOzbgc9t6nZET3d2SO0IjcbqWfjbTiCMQKk/w247-h127/Signature.jpg" width="247" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><i style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;"><b> </b><i><b>Misa Criolla by </b></i></i><i style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;"><b>Ariel Ramírez</b></i><div><i style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>This year marks the centenary of the birth of the composer Ariel Ramírez (1921- 2010)</span></span></span><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>,</span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"> the great exponent of Argentinian folk music</span><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"><span>. He is known primarily for his wonderful <i>Misa Criolla </i>(1964)<i> </i>that made him world-famous, with the sale of millions of records. This sixteen-minute "Creole Mass" was originally sung and performed by local choirs and musicians with an element of improvisation, a lamentation in Spanish over genocide and extreme poverty, a protest, with a</span></span></span><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> deep longing for universal peace, alternating with a celebration of life and thanks to God. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: arial; font-size: large;">The initial Kyrie begins with deep slow drum-beats reflecting the vastness and solitude of the Andes mountains</span><span style="color: black; font-family: arial; font-size: large;">. The Gloria is a sort of carnival, juxtaposed with a drum rhythm </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">used by the Incas for funerals. The Mass concludes with a melancholic rhythm from the Argentinian pampas.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVt5Z2RQizjRQO8uZE-CNKjz5IhiytBYAVbBsMGRtMn-r0U0N5_lF30geM19KTbYw3haAbDwwSS-kySanNpVagcsYMBmKD9mlGt_ium6hyphenhyphen-YjZwFgT7r97bxDWwr9Wz__YmSW6GZBo5R0/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="931" data-original-width="1369" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVt5Z2RQizjRQO8uZE-CNKjz5IhiytBYAVbBsMGRtMn-r0U0N5_lF30geM19KTbYw3haAbDwwSS-kySanNpVagcsYMBmKD9mlGt_ium6hyphenhyphen-YjZwFgT7r97bxDWwr9Wz__YmSW6GZBo5R0/w634-h432/Misa+Criolla%252C1974.+watercolour%252C+inks.jpg" width="634" /></a> </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Misa Criolla, watercolour and inks, 1974, approx. 80 x 60 cm. </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Collection of Prof. Cees Hamelink </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I knew the original recording of this work, but then it began to be performed worldwide. W</span></span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">hen I was living in Geneva in the early seventies, I heard a performance in Victoria Hall by the </span><span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Agrupación música Ariel Ramirez</i></span><span style="font-family: arial;">. The ensemble was all dressed in black capes, except the conductor, wearing a colour like old rose. Most of them played indigenous instruments as they sang, like the </span><i style="font-family: arial;">charango</i><span style="font-family: arial;"> (small guitar), the </span><i style="font-family: arial;">quena</i><span style="font-family: arial;"> (Indian flute) </span><i style="font-family: arial;">bombo</i><span style="font-family: arial;"> (Argentinian drum), and <i>siku</i> (panpipes). I wanted to capture </span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"><span>the variety of Latin American rhythms, the dynamics of the players in action and the vocal sounds that were to become the tiny textures, </span></span><span>the angular or rounded shapes of the b</span></span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"><span><span style="font-family: arial;">ass notes and floating echoes of the magnificent voices of this passionate ensemble in my painting.</span> <span style="font-family: arial;">I had never heard such a resonant deep bass.</span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"><span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: large;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><span><span style="font-family: arial;">I was totally captivated!</span></span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></span> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Back in the studio, working on the largest sheet of paper I could find, I used a variety of brushes, bamboo pens, graphite, inks and watercolours, in my attempt to saturate myself in rhythm, to visualise my ecstatic experience. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: large; text-align: left;">It was one of my early attempts (in 1974) to represent such graphic rhythms in my paintings, perhaps a key work in my development.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I was in Argentina, Chile and Brazil in the 1980's, leading workshops for teachers of the International Baccalaureate Visual Arts programme. I was enraptured by unforgettable </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">vast expanses of nature,</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> patterns, rhythms, rich earth colours and music, the like of which I had never experienced before - but I also became painfully aware of political and social injustice. The </span><i style="font-family: arial;">Misa Criolla</i><span style="font-family: arial;"> is full of all this. I went to this multi-cultural continent to teach, but I learned so much.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Today, I would really love to create kinetic paintings in synch with this music and put it on video in my studio. Quite a challenge, but it's on my bucket list. Here's a </span></span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MspG79qi4co&list=OLAK5uy_lx5bjzlCFXY0M4GSGIJL0NGEJvQyQA1NQ" style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">Link</span></a> <span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">to one of the many recordings on YouTube. Play this music as you watch the painting!</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"> _______________________________________________________________________ </span></div><div><p></p></div>Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-82994765655053207422021-08-12T20:01:00.001+02:002021-08-13T17:54:56.462+02:00A cathedral for birdsong<p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsI7R5vldSoiss2pCFLst52WW94TojUBHLFOpnZ_4Itp5NRjkf9d33SpuLdXMTk-KFPQUP5en5l-dOFibSCJmTcw1MxMgkQjnLauVrWtxLfQYBxASP7wOtZjxaEfzgSocNsDg5grElAWA/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="1000" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsI7R5vldSoiss2pCFLst52WW94TojUBHLFOpnZ_4Itp5NRjkf9d33SpuLdXMTk-KFPQUP5en5l-dOFibSCJmTcw1MxMgkQjnLauVrWtxLfQYBxASP7wOtZjxaEfzgSocNsDg5grElAWA/w246-h126/Signature.jpg" width="246" /></a></div><br /><i style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: red;"> </span><span style="color: #674ea7;"> </span><span style="color: #674ea7;">A cathedral for birdsong</span></b></i><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">If you walk through my park (yes, the <a href="https://normanperryman.blogspot.com/2021/06/rhapsody-in-park.html">Rhapsody in the Park</a> that inspired the previous watercolour), you may chance upon a quiet pathway leading into an enclave of very tall trees. As you stand in their dappled shadows, it feels cool and quiet like a sanctuary, a cathedral, but as you look up, suddenly a delightful cacophony of birdsong bursts out above you, an invisible animated discussion on this intruder into their dwelling. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;">Their tweets, trills, cheeps and chirrups inspire</span><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"> flashes and jabs of sound-colour here and there in my treetops. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;">This is undoubtedly a magical space.</span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHcddPZYm_wpSmqUSySXTBgjUVEJ-CGXERrYrX1hyphenhyphenp-aqrC-KadumHlkw44FEIBit-Q6auohjF5ew66YAk3LLK7YGM_ZULwfspltIpLfwIJl8cnWJKrwbRdnmpJvhIeMFW15PPq6GquiY/s2048/A+cathedral+for+birdsong%252C+watercolour+67+x+48+cm.+2021+2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1374" height="766" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHcddPZYm_wpSmqUSySXTBgjUVEJ-CGXERrYrX1hyphenhyphenp-aqrC-KadumHlkw44FEIBit-Q6auohjF5ew66YAk3LLK7YGM_ZULwfspltIpLfwIJl8cnWJKrwbRdnmpJvhIeMFW15PPq6GquiY/w515-h766/A+cathedral+for+birdsong%252C+watercolour+67+x+48+cm.+2021+2.jpg" width="515" /></a></span></span></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i> A cathedral for birdsong, watercolour 67 x 48 cm. 2021</i></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I'm reminded of the French composer and ornithologist </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Olivier_Messiaen">Olivier Messiaen</a><span style="font-family: arial;"> (1908-1992), who spent hours making tape-recordings of birdsong that might be incorporated into his music. He would be thrilled to stand here with his tape-recorder and no doubt argue with me about the colours we hear. How would he hear my carpet of blue/violet intermingled with dappled reds? His </span><i>Catalogue d' Oiseaux </i><span style="font-family: arial;">for piano is, like bird song, full of abstract angular and unmelodic sounds. Messiaen had, like me and many others, synaesthesia - an intuitive reaction to music in terms of colour (or vice versa). Here's one shot from my kinetic paintings performed in 2012 with pianist Pierre-Laurent Aimard to </span></span></span><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Cloches d’adieu – et un sourire. In memoriam Olivier Messiaen </i>by composer Tristan Murail. Both musicians studied with Messiaen. My continuous images were painted live on projectors in response to the overlapping bell-like</span> <span style="font-family: arial;">sounds from the piano.</span></span></span></span><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbUVNTSfpoxFRpKaJyZWmSeESDJIcT0Svj1DxXtH1v63fJajlsEsOcZR1GV3VdD39bK1n0piJ5h-Nnt2SbZnTp7vkhssX2SH0f6CBT8AKolNLtxPE-OkgpCjnahEY78TqFvE2VA70_v_U/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="257" data-original-width="320" height="355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbUVNTSfpoxFRpKaJyZWmSeESDJIcT0Svj1DxXtH1v63fJajlsEsOcZR1GV3VdD39bK1n0piJ5h-Nnt2SbZnTp7vkhssX2SH0f6CBT8AKolNLtxPE-OkgpCjnahEY78TqFvE2VA70_v_U/w442-h355/image.png" width="442" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">________________________________________</div><br /><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></span></div></div>Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-2448445796747206572021-06-16T08:48:00.001+02:002021-06-16T08:51:36.467+02:00Rhapsody in the Park<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii_Ymw9JsHXukrdNA8EQpdC_Cl8QF7RDJSYT8x-DNNqRp_NT84Er9ChoYtnk4naQqtxnMIF4-8STiaGrWwtSzdTjOMdSJjxhvrtbSMwqgdeazmGdL4q8amZx_sKytvfnVKjTChN3VkFsg/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="1000" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii_Ymw9JsHXukrdNA8EQpdC_Cl8QF7RDJSYT8x-DNNqRp_NT84Er9ChoYtnk4naQqtxnMIF4-8STiaGrWwtSzdTjOMdSJjxhvrtbSMwqgdeazmGdL4q8amZx_sKytvfnVKjTChN3VkFsg/w264-h136/Signature.jpg" width="264" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>Rhapsody in the Park</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">A strange thing happened to me the other day, walking through my local Amsterdam Flevo Park, where every blade of grass, leaf, blossom, flower was celebrating the fullness of summer in all its glory. I sat there sketching, drinking in the many greens and the variety of deep shadow colours, then started "seeing" flashes of many other colours. This was becoming a kaleidoscopic experience, an intense celebration of nature and of life itself. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">I wanted to <i>sing</i>, but I had no lyrics. A song without words then, a song of dancing colours. I really <u>had</u> to make a <i>lyrical</i> painting, throwing care aside</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> and </span><span style="font-family: arial;">choosing intuitively from my palette, following my emotions. I found myself painting in a state of rhapsody. Like a musical rhapsody, a spontaneous free-flowing chromatic work. Yes, I went back to the studio and put on Gershwin's <i>Rhapsody in Blue, </i>to develop this rhapsody in many colours. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHu3CejVvg8-k6USN373CwrUkn510O40kq2lzhWIElOIHtXvEHhKFKmNvRTMklcMEgAg3aFcII35OHxpypBiBYHJgLTba1piQAkDeN0ofI41gM7XUBoShiIoLmhdntQqHWkHFmSajeNRU/s1856/Rhapsody+in+the+Park+3.+watercolour.+65+x+45+cm.+2021JPG+2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1281" data-original-width="1856" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHu3CejVvg8-k6USN373CwrUkn510O40kq2lzhWIElOIHtXvEHhKFKmNvRTMklcMEgAg3aFcII35OHxpypBiBYHJgLTba1piQAkDeN0ofI41gM7XUBoShiIoLmhdntQqHWkHFmSajeNRU/w674-h466/Rhapsody+in+the+Park+3.+watercolour.+65+x+45+cm.+2021JPG+2.JPG" width="674" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="text-align: center;">Rhapsody in the Park, watercolour, 65 x 45 cm. June 2021</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Of course I've revelled for years in the emotional power of vivid fluctuating translucent colours, painted on <i>glass</i> and shared with the public via my overhead-projectors. Here's the link to my blog of January 2019: <a href="https://normanperryman.blogspot.com/2019/01/my-fluid-lyrical-painting.html">The joy of lyrical painting</a>, written before my final performance of lyrical-abstract paintings on stage with musicians. I can't paint those live any more, so I'm now looking for new ways to express the magic of colour on <i>paper</i>. <br /></span></div></span><div><br /></div>Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-24335373497627491262021-05-31T18:15:00.004+02:002021-06-02T17:43:53.317+02:00A young artist waiting for the music <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4vf9tGBoPysMDak_ddit3B4hevgw5HAz4DWK_2K683QuXJNm244hGJZtgn4t5m35aDl1cFoW-I70u19QB2auDNpEyVhp0ihBQ-Liv4sXoJ2PLvGHS7Y4tTTTO_2DHu41-DYuO0dKxhlE/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="1000" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4vf9tGBoPysMDak_ddit3B4hevgw5HAz4DWK_2K683QuXJNm244hGJZtgn4t5m35aDl1cFoW-I70u19QB2auDNpEyVhp0ihBQ-Liv4sXoJ2PLvGHS7Y4tTTTO_2DHu41-DYuO0dKxhlE/w235-h120/Signature.jpg" width="235" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>A young artist</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>waiting for the music to start</i></b></span></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">I'm standing in line outside Door 11 of the Royal Albert Hall in London, hoping to get a cheap ticket for the BBC Proms Festival, </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">standing room only</span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">A</span><span style="font-family: arial;">ccording to my sketch, it's</span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">September 9th.1953 at 6.15 in the evening. The programme is Mozart and Schubert, with soprano </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Elizabeth Schwartzkopf and Adrian Boult conducting the London Philharmonic, no less. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOFKZDusG_Ka1lH__gR9N0VyJ4MVlIvb-0QSKTCsNfx1Vh5O0s7fG2K9efcbSc5bRzeZmjqusaKFMtuhf2eKJTxL8cOzqVM3_EPGToOUkF0IevsVFL0tct9BnOvd3UduTqIgV8Zo0QGG0/s2048/student+sketches+1.tif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1293" data-original-width="2048" height="421" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOFKZDusG_Ka1lH__gR9N0VyJ4MVlIvb-0QSKTCsNfx1Vh5O0s7fG2K9efcbSc5bRzeZmjqusaKFMtuhf2eKJTxL8cOzqVM3_EPGToOUkF0IevsVFL0tct9BnOvd3UduTqIgV8Zo0QGG0/w665-h421/student+sketches+1.tif" width="665" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">I was a mere twenty years old, celebrating my graduation with a First Class Honours in Painting from the Birmingham College of Arts and Crafts, </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">as always </span><span style="font-family: arial;">with a sketchbook in hand and a fountain-pen for linear notes of composition, colours and tones, although in this case they never resulted in a painting. I'm surrounded by excited music-lovers with a glimpse of the structure of this grand temple of classical music with Hyde Park in the distance, I believe. What are my prospects? As a young artist in 1953 I had no idea how my life would unfold.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKJOzPdGGQae1DNpXYVvmKDAGKbdgdyzkSzw9QGnjvIkPHAiLHqshb01mWSz_VjAEzSn1C3lY9rS1c-k3R88fM07USTnf51rTGH_DaWyRTK7u-jueqAZQ3nTh8BBNX83v7wOZKMLZWaWo/s1691/NP.+1953.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1691" data-original-width="1106" height="537" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKJOzPdGGQae1DNpXYVvmKDAGKbdgdyzkSzw9QGnjvIkPHAiLHqshb01mWSz_VjAEzSn1C3lY9rS1c-k3R88fM07USTnf51rTGH_DaWyRTK7u-jueqAZQ3nTh8BBNX83v7wOZKMLZWaWo/w350-h537/NP.+1953.jpeg" width="350" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Even then, I was already searching for a way to combine my love of painting with music, to figure out some sort of <i>Gesamtkunstwerk </i>(audio-visual synthesis)<i>. </i>But it was going to take me a decade or so to find a form, develop my preference for watercolour and to utilise the kinetic flow of watercolours and the freedom that my brushes could offer me. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">My move to The Netherlands in 1957 and the resulting exposure to European culture has had a lasting influence on my life. I began to zigzag across the world, organising around 40 exhibitions of my work, painting hundreds of portraits, including those of world renowned musicians, </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">collaborating with some of them in audio-visual performances, appearing on television and in festivals in South Korea, France, Germany, Austria, Belgium, Norway, Finland, Switzerland, Holland, Lithuania, Dubai, the USA, the UK and in particular my birthplace Birmingham. Already, those extraordinary journeys seem a long time ago.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Sixty-seven years after the above photograph, I painted a self-portrait in Amsterdam during the 2020 lockdown, contemplating the years gone by. Did I really do all that? Here's the <a href="https://normanperryman.blogspot.com/2020/05/self-portrait-in-treetop_9.html">Link</a> to my comments on that painting.</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiitJJujXO3vH-fNOWWw1HIQbMpiVXX3LgcEW_BLLLwnXeJadObIkMP9Bi8N9-NilUbRqqjHNevcO7-WgE8enrBtKUSIE8rOtDBYPKoV7X92OquUsrGRvhb-MBTuMEbNNKNUArSPzzPIEQ/s1422/Lock-down+in+a+tree-top.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1422" data-original-width="1398" height="553" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiitJJujXO3vH-fNOWWw1HIQbMpiVXX3LgcEW_BLLLwnXeJadObIkMP9Bi8N9-NilUbRqqjHNevcO7-WgE8enrBtKUSIE8rOtDBYPKoV7X92OquUsrGRvhb-MBTuMEbNNKNUArSPzzPIEQ/w544-h553/Lock-down+in+a+tree-top.JPG" width="544" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I can't help reminiscing on the extraordinary nature of my artistic life, </span><span style="font-family: arial;">a roller-coaster of excitement, hopes and also some disillusionments. Although rather proud of </span><span style="font-family: arial;">many projects, there is still a sadness about the creative ideas that failed to find form and production. Sometimes this was just bad luck, bad timing or my network of colleagues and agents moving on, factors that had nothing to do with the quality of the proposals. Then, in the mid-seventies, the world became flooded with an obsession for all things digital, so organically foreign to the joys and sensual beauty of my analogue brushstrokes. Here's the <a href="https://normanperryman.blogspot.com/2017/02/analogue-alive-and-well.html">Link</a> to a blog from 2017: <i>Analogue is alive and well</i>.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Now approaching eighty-eight, I'm missing the interaction and discussion with other creative minds and the challenge of a new production. I especially miss the adrenaline rush of painting live to the music on stage. Even though the inner need and ability to create is still there, the need to slow down has inevitably become a reality that I'm trying to accept. Today's watercolour is inspired by a view from the spot where Rembrandt made one of his many drawings along</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> the riverside of the Amstel</span><span style="font-family: arial;">. Perhaps I too am searching for new perspectives, as I round each bend of this quiet flowing river through the bustling city of Amsterdam. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4wpkxyEpePMcjLT4EKrtHMmPcNRU_EKqO1WOza4kAXqzRaap0bZJYHShBjKSHPourDTpNIE-HqTTqm2veFiHp5xsm0FxOO80eTQH1YYCVwG8fxAJ-fZvEQMn5-hlpfaGb6l8IyBoldXg/s2048/Amstel+2%252C+watercolour+60+x+49+cm%252C+2021.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1307" data-original-width="2048" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4wpkxyEpePMcjLT4EKrtHMmPcNRU_EKqO1WOza4kAXqzRaap0bZJYHShBjKSHPourDTpNIE-HqTTqm2veFiHp5xsm0FxOO80eTQH1YYCVwG8fxAJ-fZvEQMn5-hlpfaGb6l8IyBoldXg/w664-h424/Amstel+2%252C+watercolour+60+x+49+cm%252C+2021.jpeg" width="664" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: center;">Searching for water-music, watercolour 60 x 49 cm. 2021</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The 165 blogs, <i>A Life Painting Music</i>, </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">have become my memoir and are </span><span style="font-family: arial;">easy to access in the right hand column. Hopefully, there will be many more!</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br />Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-23214310203852485122021-01-17T11:26:00.005+01:002021-01-17T13:42:44.569+01:00The Big Move<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRayd__76xL0Vjdy76eMtTyd8pf8W8q03ngO6miv3V7cK_IhlrKebCN0jJq6_EHmY01TLC_VwI0CTDvWTzDtrNXbFGVTq7iXRXod1F-ch-nPsNUn9AYd3vnK4jUqfTdOdtzv6LQxoeck4/s1000/Signature.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="1000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRayd__76xL0Vjdy76eMtTyd8pf8W8q03ngO6miv3V7cK_IhlrKebCN0jJq6_EHmY01TLC_VwI0CTDvWTzDtrNXbFGVTq7iXRXod1F-ch-nPsNUn9AYd3vnK4jUqfTdOdtzv6LQxoeck4/s320/Signature.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><h1 style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>The Big Move</i></b></span></h1><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">After thirty-five years living virtually in a treetop in Amsterdam South, I've now moved to an apartment that has a wonderful view from the ninth floor over the treetops of the East-side park. It's been a emotional experience, having to say goodbye to a gracious house, built in 1914 near the Concertgebouw, with so many happy and sad memories, where my children grew up and where their mother died. She played in the Concertgebouw, where I also painted live kinetic images to many concerts, so it became our second home.</span> </p><p style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpnZt5hHM2K1CEsUjFFFDHLb4-DJ92Xi_7Y8CXN6KxK3QDaYZ0KnEuT8nj_WkWAdamzFLMV052zwuvRYNSB2Ap2bQfhI8e-ezgFlzOnvl8M8U0z7x0Rf9LIKnnLzBsBhj19DqbSUOziG4/s2048/20161029_112926.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1152" height="515" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpnZt5hHM2K1CEsUjFFFDHLb4-DJ92Xi_7Y8CXN6KxK3QDaYZ0KnEuT8nj_WkWAdamzFLMV052zwuvRYNSB2Ap2bQfhI8e-ezgFlzOnvl8M8U0z7x0Rf9LIKnnLzBsBhj19DqbSUOziG4/w303-h515/20161029_112926.jpg" width="303" /></a></p><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">The move meant down-sizing, saying farewell to my favourite tree outside the window, to innumerable archives and documents, contracts and proposals for exhibitions and performances worldwide, all written or faxed on paper, many of which were successful and some that sadly never came to fruition. At eighty-seven, I look back nostalgically on a very long career, about which you can read in my blogs at www.normanperryman@blogspot.com.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4TshUuD5HHixp5vQzuz2dXftygGDoOPGg8M73zxxM2swOI3lF4hR0_bxlxvdLuBvAPqy2zK8WIe0Yls-fHuW7MpbEHPnufWIBOKk71JHtynq3n7PogXHzU6e5H-a-x1o7aD8I1c-CTvw/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="454" height="475" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4TshUuD5HHixp5vQzuz2dXftygGDoOPGg8M73zxxM2swOI3lF4hR0_bxlxvdLuBvAPqy2zK8WIe0Yls-fHuW7MpbEHPnufWIBOKk71JHtynq3n7PogXHzU6e5H-a-x1o7aD8I1c-CTvw/w337-h475/My+old+tree+marks+time2.JPG" width="337" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">All went well! I'm now living in an Amsterdam apartment block for retired senior citizens, in a quarter where the streets are named after the colonial Dutch East Indies. My address is Kramatplantsoen, Kramat being a small town in Java with a chequered history, but also the term for the burial-ground of a highly-placed person. Duly noted. I've discovered that it only takes me three minutes to climb the nine flights of stairs. </span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Artists don't know the meaning of retirement of course. We have an inner need to create, for as long as we can hold a paintbrush. My studio and commissions await, but after this exhausting process, I first need a little break. Here's the fanfare of colours to which I awoke on my first day. Yes, it was a good move.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGW0a4V9DJTf4WBcE7PfHPQpdFIMa2OA7U7ZQ4beGQAVSjlyN8TRu9LSD-6G4g3m9FEdIckAxZIHFvrSZumERqvNRNVMiPqwAJgHtOxgUWwJX0AoKOmL92dHo4f-HG39Nij_Vir85KSLo/s2048/20210113_083038.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGW0a4V9DJTf4WBcE7PfHPQpdFIMa2OA7U7ZQ4beGQAVSjlyN8TRu9LSD-6G4g3m9FEdIckAxZIHFvrSZumERqvNRNVMiPqwAJgHtOxgUWwJX0AoKOmL92dHo4f-HG39Nij_Vir85KSLo/w538-h303/20210113_083038.jpg" width="538" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Lu78K4zQSRzvwkL1-AbPK9tdso53XTxag87pnsvmOylnj6TtPjQ-jhyphenhyphenbJpK30UHBAucQWB_smH3EqTfAPHAFkCWqZd4byHikh4Ql3UVpISHar85iA8wYMTY4SoxJI9PZrb8PEMntaW0/s1024/IMG-20210113-WA0000.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="348" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Lu78K4zQSRzvwkL1-AbPK9tdso53XTxag87pnsvmOylnj6TtPjQ-jhyphenhyphenbJpK30UHBAucQWB_smH3EqTfAPHAFkCWqZd4byHikh4Ql3UVpISHar85iA8wYMTY4SoxJI9PZrb8PEMntaW0/w464-h348/IMG-20210113-WA0000.jpg" width="464" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––</div><br />Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-32900749867989854762020-08-31T09:10:00.001+02:002020-09-05T09:57:20.443+02:00CBSO celebrates 100 years<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje1VPbbrN0VqCU90YWpYG-mvYNIcJmaRZ9Nd4jXpm1UKdxEoMk5PhIoQovLkOSNEnW6bRQoEQ3EptRAN-bBXI2cqCHN4Xn4pro32KRXpoEL6M6okMi_9lUVvVjW_1FCqbWJZ3oS0UVzSs/s1000/Signature.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="1000" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje1VPbbrN0VqCU90YWpYG-mvYNIcJmaRZ9Nd4jXpm1UKdxEoMk5PhIoQovLkOSNEnW6bRQoEQ3EptRAN-bBXI2cqCHN4Xn4pro32KRXpoEL6M6okMi_9lUVvVjW_1FCqbWJZ3oS0UVzSs/w328-h168/Signature.jpg" width="328" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><i><b>CBSO</b></i><i><b> celebrates 100 years</b></i><i><b>!</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><i style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">The City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra</span></b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span lang=""><span style="font-size: large;">I was born in Longbridge Lane, Birmingham in 1933, in the shadow of the Austin car factory where my father worked. That year Hitler came to power and seven years later he was sending his bombers to hit Birmingham’s industrial centres. Fortunately by then our family had moved to the safety of rural Worcestershire (where the sauce comes from).<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="">After the war, in 1949 I returned to Birmingham </span>at the age of sixteen to study painting at the College of Art and to marvel at the grotesque bombed ruins - fascinating sketchbook subjects. By the fifties, with no money for lunch, I would be popping over to the free lunchtime concerts at the Town Hall by the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, where the charismatic Viennese Rudolf Schwarz (who had miraculously survived two Nazi concentration camps) was about to become chief conductor. Thanks to this Maestro and the CBSO I got a significant introduction to classical music – a new world of inspiration was opening up to me that would characterise my life’s work. I began to wonder whether I shouldn’t have studied music. But my instrument was already the paintbrush.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">Decades later, the old war-scarred industrial city of Birmingham was changing into a dynamic cultural centre, with a splendid new Symphony Hall for the CBSO. My association with some of those changes and the story of my life painting music was recorded (in 1993) in a fifty-minute documentary for BBC Television: <i>Concerto for Paintbrush and Orchestra</i>. It linked my paintings of great musicians to the sound of the music that inspired them (so that you heard the painting, as it were), then continued with a live performance of my kinetic painting with the CBSO, conducted by </span><span style="background-color: white;">Simon Rattle. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;">And now, on September 5th 2020, to celebrate the Centennial of this world-famous orchestra, Sir Simon is conducting a concert in, of all places, a warehouse in my birthplace in Longbridge! The concert will be live-streamed for all.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="" style="background-color: transparent;"><span lang=""><span lang="">After the 1993 televised highlight twenty-five years went by, before my meeting with the new Music Director </span>Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla led to another CBSO collaboration. She agreed with me that <i>The Sea </i>by the legendary Lithuanian artist/composer Čiurlionis (1875-1911) would be the perfect work to combine with my fluid lyrical painting, as a total work of art. A</span></span><span style="background-color: transparent;">fter forty-five years of live performances worldwide, t</span><span lang="" style="background-color: transparent;"><span lang="">his concert </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent;">on February 16th. 2019,</span><span lang="" style="background-color: transparent;"><span lang=""> appropriately in Birmingham Symphony Hall</span></span><span style="background-color: transparent;">, </span><span style="background-color: transparent;">was to be my swan song.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: large;">CBSO playing the 2019 UK premier of <i>The Sea </i>by Čiurlionis, with my simultaneous live paintings on screen.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: large;">I feel so grateful that I can, with considerable nostalgia, scroll through a lifetime of associations with the CBSO and that I found the opportunities to make portraits of four of their Music Directors in full swing, Simon Rattle, Sakari Oramo, Andris Nelsons and Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrYoef0HDqtPSiG4lQJ4peosNXKwg1O3g7DzV1la09K7VgkohIakRH-BTAyI0yD9510_T47uMGvkk_Sv-yVlDSYsRPTDULXUdoGbEkpMli3mTF5LUSBY1-vby8jDf8Mz79ppczkWLrRkY/s2048/Mirga+Graz%25CC%258Cinyte%25CC%2587-Tyla+conducting+CBSO+in+Mahler+1+in+1917.+watercolour+1491+x+1428+cm.+Norman+Perryman.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1937" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrYoef0HDqtPSiG4lQJ4peosNXKwg1O3g7DzV1la09K7VgkohIakRH-BTAyI0yD9510_T47uMGvkk_Sv-yVlDSYsRPTDULXUdoGbEkpMli3mTF5LUSBY1-vby8jDf8Mz79ppczkWLrRkY/s640/Mirga+Graz%25CC%258Cinyte%25CC%2587-Tyla+conducting+CBSO+in+Mahler+1+in+1917.+watercolour+1491+x+1428+cm.+Norman+Perryman.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla conducting Mahler 1 with the CBSO in 2017. </div>
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Watercolour 1491 x 1428 cm.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">N.B. The CBSO has been nominated for the </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Gramophone Orchestra of the Year Award. </i><a href="https://www.surveygizmo.com/s3/5635557/Gramophone-Orchestra-of-the-Year-2020">Vote here</a> for your support before Sept. 7th!</span></div>
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</span>Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-32367383765455573732020-08-22T10:43:00.003+02:002020-08-22T14:34:08.784+02:00Frans Brüggen<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYWBbjVF9k8s3k9dR6aLYM7X-Ft5zQCwbJS4u1YaBg_n0yPHMqSg-kD5lryKTiOSvur6trnzUGo9bmjhMORUkMje026B7x3tl2k95yVpU0SdorvBbOgtI3gM-YmM8Mqz62Pkul1cSgGFU/s1000/Signature.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="1000" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYWBbjVF9k8s3k9dR6aLYM7X-Ft5zQCwbJS4u1YaBg_n0yPHMqSg-kD5lryKTiOSvur6trnzUGo9bmjhMORUkMje026B7x3tl2k95yVpU0SdorvBbOgtI3gM-YmM8Mqz62Pkul1cSgGFU/w328-h168/Signature.jpg" width="328" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: xx-large;"><i><b>My Frans Brüggen (1934-2014)</b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: xx-large;"><i><b> has found a good home</b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: arial; font-size: xx-large;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">It gives me great pleasure that my watercolour of the legendary virtuoso recorder player Frans Brüggen has found a good home in the hands of an excellent recorder player who was one of his many fans. As a young man, he was the idol of would-be recorder players worldwide, myself included!</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Painted in 1983, shortly after Frans co-founded the wonderful <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orchestra_of_the_Eighteenth_Century">Orchestra of the Eighteenth Centur</a>y, of which he became such a dedicated conductor. </span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;">I seized the opportunity to make sketches during rehearsals when m</span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;">y late wife the cellist Vivian King played briefly in the orchestra. Soon after this Frans gave up the recorder to devote all of his energies to his orchestra.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: red; font-size: xx-large; font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh27Y5pbCkxsoLVbhg5nwIG7l5YGDz000hKC5wOhx4Fxm5oKeFdiyfBgqKmmTG9KdNj0NPB3Uj1Blw_plQr5sZSos_qxzNZVvYYBslmISvKdoH2BSPuQu-b4Z06Em7GWHE25bQKL1idzUg/s1718/PC060105.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1718" data-original-width="1332" height="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh27Y5pbCkxsoLVbhg5nwIG7l5YGDz000hKC5wOhx4Fxm5oKeFdiyfBgqKmmTG9KdNj0NPB3Uj1Blw_plQr5sZSos_qxzNZVvYYBslmISvKdoH2BSPuQu-b4Z06Em7GWHE25bQKL1idzUg/w620-h800/PC060105.JPG" width="620" /></a></div>Frans Brüggen, watercolour 61 x 48 cm, 1983</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">In those years, I was searching for a free way to go with flow, to suggest the movement in a </span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><i>less is more</i> style. The following year I was in Japan, soaking up the freedom of their brushwork. Here's the <a href="https://normanperryman.blogspot.com/2017/04/early-musical-works-less-is-more.html">Link</a> to my blog on that line of thought around 1984.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: red; font-size: xx-large; font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1LMpF_VIws8xm_u23K7MPTABeqyY7pjpYLRTCyGWP2mglfuc-V-RzPiVkoy2ZWGPynwLLlcMAigUrWlS4Zb-Spgz8Ut-iyYF-Fvr3eY_skshoEZYDW0RusgBvA3hJPepcTYBk5gPTHTU/s2048/Frans+Bru%25CC%2588ggen+conducting.tif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1601" data-original-width="2048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1LMpF_VIws8xm_u23K7MPTABeqyY7pjpYLRTCyGWP2mglfuc-V-RzPiVkoy2ZWGPynwLLlcMAigUrWlS4Zb-Spgz8Ut-iyYF-Fvr3eY_skshoEZYDW0RusgBvA3hJPepcTYBk5gPTHTU/w513-h400/Frans+Bru%25CC%2588ggen+conducting.tif" width="513" /></a></div>Frans Brüggen conducting 62 x 57 cm, chalk, 1983</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmWxybeEqi3dIDaFghefyX4fgbhc0jVJqtbxcadNolFOjBwnAoDOXgTaxPm9EVdjYT2EhT0cfDHegvn06lZKlBLRQ_b-E3xLcytFgqNAAv5TRHjuv8dxGLySTjvEeMY6zjoE9cHP0kHv8/s1668/P1060217.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1553" data-original-width="1668" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmWxybeEqi3dIDaFghefyX4fgbhc0jVJqtbxcadNolFOjBwnAoDOXgTaxPm9EVdjYT2EhT0cfDHegvn06lZKlBLRQ_b-E3xLcytFgqNAAv5TRHjuv8dxGLySTjvEeMY6zjoE9cHP0kHv8/s640/P1060217.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>pencil sketch of Frans conducting, approx. 40 x 30 cm. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">_________________________________________________________________</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">(The drawings are still for sale, by the way).</span></div><p></p>Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-5311768536582134522020-07-19T08:17:00.004+02:002020-07-26T12:40:49.423+02:00A deeply emotional encounter<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE571K8MG0Za8y33DCabz_QD436y7XK-jVrrOQdEaQW8Bz-pHUyutWT1YQPL3-COoTZubXdJpG01o9kk5SK2BdJFdUi76oj6laCDkGWxMq9JM2Da5NhL4ORk9E8Do-UKagyJ5XWTg3WbU/s1000/Signature.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="1000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE571K8MG0Za8y33DCabz_QD436y7XK-jVrrOQdEaQW8Bz-pHUyutWT1YQPL3-COoTZubXdJpG01o9kk5SK2BdJFdUi76oj6laCDkGWxMq9JM2Da5NhL4ORk9E8Do-UKagyJ5XWTg3WbU/s320/Signature.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>A deeply emotional encounter</i></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">I've </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">made many pencil sketches of sleeping babies, but never a painting of such an irresistible personality, only twelve days old. The first time I took her in my arms, I hummed Brahms' <i>Wiegenlied</i> (Lullaby) to her. She became very still and gazed up at me with those alert enquiring eyes. It was love and understanding at first sight. I looked at her very long fingers and thought: Oh yes, she's going to be a cellist, like her late grandmother Vivian, or perhaps an oboist like her grandfather Maarten. I was deeply moved.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcGrI8g_d4459IN9Qi-ydLfwcuuUfeozMI2InKu41w71MId7DkBMYVTOcpsGPBe6tc99pexbGdc5sbF1Q3SPJ0Fh4AU1e2AvnnL65LqZQkLaMY0vCIhGV4uMuyJBbjPdhNPuLC204mi80/s2000/Liv.++watercolour+21+x+28+cm.+7+July+2020.jpg.+Norman+Perryman.1a.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1469" data-original-width="2000" height="471" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcGrI8g_d4459IN9Qi-ydLfwcuuUfeozMI2InKu41w71MId7DkBMYVTOcpsGPBe6tc99pexbGdc5sbF1Q3SPJ0Fh4AU1e2AvnnL65LqZQkLaMY0vCIhGV4uMuyJBbjPdhNPuLC204mi80/w640-h471/Liv.++watercolour+21+x+28+cm.+7+July+2020.jpg.+Norman+Perryman.1a.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; text-align: center;"> My watercolour of Liv Vivian Maria Perryman, 21 x 28 cm, July 7th 2020.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">In a way, we had met before. When I painted my portrait of her mother Lorena, she was listening, nestled inside. Here's the Link to that event:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"><a href="https://normanperryman.blogspot.com/2020/02/portrait-painting-as-quest.html">https://normanperryman.blogspot.com/2020/02/portrait-painting-as-quest.html</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">Four months later, unexpectedly her mother had to be taken to hospital by ambulance. The Amsterdam stairway was too narrow, so </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">the fire-brigade came to the rescue and Mom was whisked out of the window. Meanwhile Liv was nestling in the safe arms of her father Alex. </span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">To sooth our mutual anxiety</span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">I dashed off this little card for her, to say that her Opa was also cradling and rocking her gently in the branches of the old tree outside my window.</span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"> Alex said she couldn't take her eyes off it. My dear granddaughter had become my youngest fan. (</span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">Here's the </span><a href="https://normanperryman.blogspot.com/2019/07/my-old-tree-marks-time.html" style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;">Link</a><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"> to my earlier painting of that tree, as a self-portrait).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";">Liv Perryman, born June 25th, 2020</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">Share my tears of joy with that lovely 3-minute <a href="https://youtu.be/EBIKYRXGz2k">Brahms Lullaby</a></span></div>
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Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-19609195577086764412020-06-07T08:52:00.001+02:002020-07-21T18:20:45.559+02:00a single black brushstroke<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ZTuj_BAMK6pBj33JAc_f3siRHR52RZX-njLBr2s_scjthyryCGFJvkaWf9KdocVDhDb2V0alK4TplyreWRXMylObZqLAitnL5UQUJpvPb8Ro4ekuI52qI1mjmGE5RWwTT-UemaW8F6Q/s1000/Signature.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="1000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ZTuj_BAMK6pBj33JAc_f3siRHR52RZX-njLBr2s_scjthyryCGFJvkaWf9KdocVDhDb2V0alK4TplyreWRXMylObZqLAitnL5UQUJpvPb8Ro4ekuI52qI1mjmGE5RWwTT-UemaW8F6Q/s320/Signature.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>a single black brushstroke</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">My language is the brushstroke. I load my brush, focus, then breathe out with the stroke, to make a mark full of power, peace and joy, expressing my innermost feelings. But wait...... what has happened here? This simple stroke betrays anger, distress, fragility,</span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">shattered emotions.</span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"> I'm breathless, lost for words. I'm not the only one. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjarbLbiIBmo3SpswtxPzChRQeG5lnckic_5G4cLNFgTP91GMM6l9Mt7v9_39QK_2NjOMYauL8f7S3uI_d6d0bdiMeWEkqnua92BIQ-8snBk3SMvgeZ1oM86fCcytN9EneykajIYuqibeo/s4887/a+single+black+brushstroke.0.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4887" data-original-width="2000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjarbLbiIBmo3SpswtxPzChRQeG5lnckic_5G4cLNFgTP91GMM6l9Mt7v9_39QK_2NjOMYauL8f7S3uI_d6d0bdiMeWEkqnua92BIQ-8snBk3SMvgeZ1oM86fCcytN9EneykajIYuqibeo/w262-h640/a+single+black+brushstroke.0.jpg" width="262" /></span></a></div>
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Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-782138671916303805.post-44088830729701248162020-05-09T14:04:00.000+02:002020-05-09T14:04:51.006+02:00Self-portrait in a treetop<div style="text-align: center;">
<img height="16" id="4ktql3z1fqki" src="data:image/gif;base64,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" width="16" /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqI8bC9KetB5_iTbo_XbGN7EwHytxYM0jE3OvZ3uBfI8YFx3C_ph_swVBn8j6stxD3AKG7UKZpV61XaZC8Duc0syKgXkbOfZcM44tcruj5l1LEL4COK57baPLSOZygfjZghD0QpSZv5MY/s1600/Signature.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqI8bC9KetB5_iTbo_XbGN7EwHytxYM0jE3OvZ3uBfI8YFx3C_ph_swVBn8j6stxD3AKG7UKZpV61XaZC8Duc0syKgXkbOfZcM44tcruj5l1LEL4COK57baPLSOZygfjZghD0QpSZv5MY/s320/Signature.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>Self-portrait in a treetop</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">What on earth can a portrait-painter do in a lock-down crisis? As I looked in the mirror, the answer was staring me in the face. I must paint another self-portrait. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's my way to reflect, to re-assess where I'm at. I know that my face will betray my innermost feelings, so it will demand honest scrutiny and focus. That's why our self-portraits look serious. I'm thinking of Rembrandt, Van Gogh, Frida Kahlo.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm in self-isolation on the fourth floor of my building, virtually in the treetops. The trees are my old friends, still going strong, so we greet each other every morning. As an English boy isolated in the woodlands of Worcestershire during the war, I would climb into a treetop and cradle myself in its branches, gently swaying in the breeze, dreaming about the future, listening to the drone of propeller-driven warplanes, high up on their way to somewhere else. I can still remember that soothing feeling of being cradled. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now, nearly eighty years later,</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> I can almost touch the branches of the plane trees of my Amsterdam street. Lock-down? I'm on top of the world.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaKNhPekbhQFZBMgcM_8SvdTb80PPyBwufSfmzea54aEq_zKkSTPHFUfhtgTfBmImcvBY14IWvv6C8dTyx7iqc1HY6zSCBtWjqsi1pnOg6O6Oa85zCczNTWCC-cPvoyAJwI1kTYnCbpL4/s1600/Self-portrait+in+a+tree-top.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1422" data-original-width="1398" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaKNhPekbhQFZBMgcM_8SvdTb80PPyBwufSfmzea54aEq_zKkSTPHFUfhtgTfBmImcvBY14IWvv6C8dTyx7iqc1HY6zSCBtWjqsi1pnOg6O6Oa85zCczNTWCC-cPvoyAJwI1kTYnCbpL4/s640/Self-portrait+in+a+tree-top.JPG" width="628" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Self-portrait in a tree-top, watercolour 42 x 41 cm. 2020.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So who is this man in the treetop? Well, he does have a critical eye, perceptive but not unfriendly. Possibly just on the verge of a smile. A quiet </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">observer, reflecting, enquiring, empathetic, thankful to still be alive in these difficult times.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf9KqjckoZiRs1BG2axdlC82tV-AWUH834NTPiz7VjauEb-Ku0vYoHSzZWvXsePQ2GywYlkkPjWVunWDXKFn-zNMNCAObGOL-k9nq4Q_o3S8LGoqJYA6mZoAnlwUuAhr8vkel7h5KXvL8/s1600/20200507_134939.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf9KqjckoZiRs1BG2axdlC82tV-AWUH834NTPiz7VjauEb-Ku0vYoHSzZWvXsePQ2GywYlkkPjWVunWDXKFn-zNMNCAObGOL-k9nq4Q_o3S8LGoqJYA6mZoAnlwUuAhr8vkel7h5KXvL8/s640/20200507_134939.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-align: left;">Here's the </span><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://normanperryman.blogspot.com/2019/07/my-old-tree-marks-time.html" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: left;">Link</a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: left;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-align: left;">to </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-align: left;">an earlier blog and watercolour of my old tree.</span></div>
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Norman Perrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18390097415468653932noreply@blogger.com0