Naturally

Amongst my friends, there is still probably a majority who don't use social media, be it Facebook or Twitter. Personally, I now find it difficult to remember life before twitter. In business terms it's great, a really good way to network and to stay in touch and, indirectly, it does actually help sales, although that's not why I do it.

It's main benefit now is that even when based in the gallery for much of the time, I feel that I'm in touch with what else is going on in the wider (local) world. To be so informed about changes in the local business world - so easily - is remarkable. And you find out about things that could easily pass you by.

For years I have driven alongside the estate wall of Bayfield, between Wiveton and Letheringsett, and have been to a number of events there. However, whilst in years gone by I used to notice signs about wildflowers I don't recall ever having investigated further. However, prompted initially by a tweet from my friend Sarah Pettegree - she of the brilliant Brays Cottage Pork Pies - about plants she bought there on Friday afternoon, followed by a generous offer subsequently from Sarah to escape the pie world and baby-sit the gallery for me, I visited there this morning.

Now trading as Natural Surroundings, I got no further than the plant sales, run by Anne Harrap. What a delight, and such a change from the increasingly corporate style and range of most garden centres. Tucked way in this idyllic corner of the Glaven Valley there is an intriguing and very personal selection of plants on offer. Without Sarah and her twitter, I 'm not sure I would have been drawn here and, sadly, probably continued to have wound my way past this unsung delight. Needless to say I will be returning and also needless to say I will be recommending it to friends and visitors to the gallery.  They - Natural Surroundings - tweet as well! @natsurroundings 

The other bonus is that despite the peace and quiet of the gallery on a warm Sunday morning, Sarah says she enjoyed it.  Even if she didn't she was very diplomatic and her presence here will have reminded the thousands of friends who love her pies and her tweets, that it's worth a visit to us and to Bayfield. And maybe eat a pie as well.  It's win, win, win as far as I can see.  The next step is surely for me to sell Sarah's pies... but I'm not sure she would trust me with that.

Less is more

The first time I heard this, I was a very young, very naive and ill-informed (about to be an architecture) student. At the time I was unaware of the context and having had no art education to speak of it meant little. As the course progressed I came to appreciate it more and more. The idea of minimalism definitely appealed, but I discovered early on it is not that easy.  When a design or project is finalised (never completed) it's quite easy to look back and take out the elements that add nothing. But the temptation always remains - to add something or adjust something. Experience suggests that it rarely benefits the outcome.

Forty years on, the concept holds good in the gallery world, but is still difficult to achieve. Statistically one-man or one-woman shows do best with fewer pictures than most artists want to show.  It's not clear whether this is a recent phenomenon but based purely on personal experience, a growing percentage of sales derived from featured exhibitions, actually occur outside the publicised time frame - i.e after the event.

The key feature appears to be that almost regardless of the style or content, customers find it difficult to differentiate when confronted by more than half a dozen works by the same artist. And then there is the basic satisfaction we all derive from finding rather than selecting.

Our current exhibition is yet another variation on this theme. Much appreciated, lots of visitors and looking good both in reality and on the internet.

However, it is when they are separated and viewed individually they come into their own.

This is difficult for any artist who clearly like their exhibitions to be viewed as body of work but if they can overcome this,  they eventually sell more.  Which, of course, is what they and us want!

Wagner at the Staithe

Most days after work – I use the term advisedly – I head for the Staithe. Everyday is different, people, boats, birds, skies. As the weeks go by and the days grow longer if not warmer, time constraints on my leisurely strolls have more or less disappeared and its now just as easy to go for a wander after dinner or the pub as it is before. In fact it's better; the light is usually more interesting and certainly by the time you get out to the sea there's rarely anyone else about.  To stand above the beach with just the sea and the sky, knowing in all probability there isn't anyone within a mile of you in any direction is a very good feeling.

Having said that, there have been a couple of occasions this week when it was unlikely I was going to meet anyone even at the Staithe. The spring tide had already covered the hard and, with the encouragement of a stiff northerly breeze, was eyeing up the road. It being 200 years since Wagner was born, the gods of the weather had clearly decided to serve up something special to mark the occasion. Dark clouds at sea beyond the island hinted at what was to come.

Setting out along the bank, it got darker and colder and the wind got up. However, this little appetizer was not coming my way and looking back from the sluice it had clearly decided to head towards Overy Town. 

Onwards to the  beach and proof, if proof were needed, of the power of the wind. Not for the first time, the way to the beach was blocked by a moving and visibly growing sand dune while out to sea, early signs of the next course heading in.

Back along the bank, pausing to watch a Little Egret (I think), the main course arrived at the corner about the same time as me.  From a glassy calm on the water to rushing wind in minutes. Known to some as Machine Gun Corner the next 10 minutes placed a new interpretation on the origins of this title with wind driven hail doing its best to strip not only the tender growth of the young Alexanders (these are the local wild form of celery known to the Romans) but also some of my more exposed parts.  I'm not complaining - it's good to be reminded just what really matters and who's in charge of things.  And just to confirm matters, a couple of flashes of lightning. A friend of the family, now sadly no longer with us, used to walk regularly on Dartmoor and I recollect he remained utterly unconvinced of the claims of modern 'technical' waterproof clothing. I imagine they were based on long experience of such weather.

On the Norfolk coast, squalls often pass quickly. This it seemed was not such a squall. Crunching along the bank over lying hail, the now exposed hard and anybody foolish enough to walk across it was being given a thorough working over. Back in Burnham, the roads were white over with small drifts pleasingly arranged against the front of the gallery. Early the following morning the hail was still in evidence on roofs in the village. Pleased to say that the numerous fledglings lurking amongst the pots on the patio all seem to have survived the onslaught. A bit damp, a few ruffled feathers but otherwise business as usual. That's nature for you.

Words and Music

In just 3 days last weekend I enjoyed great poetry and sublime music. Friday saw the opening of Poetry-next-the-Sea, that fantastic feast of poets and poetry at Wells-next-the-Sea. Organised pretty well single handed by Burnham Market's remarkable patron, Fiona Fraser, the star of the show was undoubtedly the late lamented George Barker. Kicking off with an extraordinary and very moving archive video of the great man reading some of his work towards the end of his life - accompanied by booze and fags lit from a candle -  it was followed by readings of his work from Oliver (brother of Jeffrey) Bernard. Now in his late 80's, Bernard's performance, for this is what it was, was a tour de force and a fitting tribute to possibly Norfolk's greatest poet. Barker's rehabilitation was confirmed by tributes and readings from his daughter - and now author - Raffaella Barker followed by a powerful tribute to her late husband from Elspeth Barker.  A stunning evening and, I would have thought, a very hard act to follow. I shall certainly be looking out for next year's festival.

Just two days later, courtesy of my former business partner, I headed east to Ludham, St. Catherine's Church to be precise, for an evening of sublime music from the Academy of St.Martin the Fields. A programme of Elgar, Britten, Arvo Pårt and a new commission by Sally Beamish combined to make the trip on a dark and damp evening more than worthwhile. Elgar's Introduction and Allegro never fails to please and excite, whilst the Sarabande in Britten's Simple Symphony came as an unexpectedly moving high point. Pårt's - to me unknown - Cantus in Memoriam Benjamin Britten proved mesmeric in the darkening Church. More Britten in the shape of his Variations on a Theme by Frank Bridge provided further proof of the quality of the performance and that we don't need to go to London to hear the best.

It's not wrong, but it is happening

North Norfolk is blessed with great places to shop and eat. No question about that - and clearly they're wanted or they wouldn't keep opening. But are they? When a new supermarket is proposed, a predictable uproar ensues.  The death of the High Street. The growth of anonymous standardisation. The loss of money cycling within the local economy.  But what about the growth of the farm shop and the garden centre?

On the face of it, what possible objection could there be? Local jobs for local people and all particular to the area.  But the reality is possibly different.  What starts as a shed selling locally grown fruit on a seasonal basis, realises that it can expand its business year round by diversifying what it grows, or (very quietly) buying in.  They have space, crucially they have parking and they're not seen as incomers or corporate big bad business.  There then follows a cake shop, because we all like home-made baking.  Then a butcher. Then a country clothes shop - and so it goes.

We all know them.  They're great places to go, the right people go there. The fit-outs get trendier, the cafe's start competing with local pubs and in some cases start their own restaurant. But at what cost? Not surely the sacred High Street?  This is creating new demand or so the story goes, but I'm not so sure. It's great to see local outlets supporting local makers and suppliers but it doesn't stretch the imagination to see that the local butchers, bakers and delis with the overheads and limitations of village and town locations will start to feel the pinch - maybe even relocate themselves - and the rural High Street (if such a thing exists) will have gone. Just as the Banks, Post Offices, and Pubs have largely gone to be replaced by sensitive residential conversions - 'The Old Bank' - so my guess is that the remaining food shops are next.  Leaving the convenience store if you're lucky...  and people like us.

It's not wrong, but it is happening because thats the way we live now. Just saying.

Spring in my step

Living and working in one of Norfolk's best bits, I find myself in a dilemma each day. Where to walk? Top two are rather obviously Overy Staithe and Norton.  This week it's been a narrow victory for Norton  - but more of that next time. This week started with fantastic light at the Staithe.

Looking the other way towards Holkham and, almost by chance, an almost japanese image of what I now know is an Egret in amongst the reeds and reflections.

And just to round it off, a sunset. Routine, normal for Norfolk.

Finally?

It seems we might just be seeing the end of one of the most drawn-out winters, with the prospect of double-digit temperatures on Sunday. In actual fact we seem to have got away quite lightly here in Norfolk, particularly because we missed out on the heavy snow a couple of weeks ago.  That said, it's clear that not only is new growth in the gardens, trees and hedges noticeably late, there look likely to be high numbers of plant casualties.

Before the cold it was the wet, with seemingly nowhere exempt from an excess of ground water. The last few weeks of persistent dry cold have changed that and nowhere is the rapidity of recovery more noticeable than on Norton Marsh, where the paths have dried out to be replaced by a hard and cracked crust.  Despite reports of the impact all this has on life and business, visitors continue to head our way - although there have been moments when it's been hard to conceal surprise that there's anyone out there for pleasure. However, my daily perambulations at the Staithe and out to Gun Hill always serve to remind just why they continue to come.

Not many are lucky enough to have this on their doorstep - and that's on one of the coldest days. On a good day it's just extraordinary.

The downside to the apparent farewell to winter is, of course that it's less likely that you get it all to yourself!