And ...... relax!

Even though August still has nearly a week to run, change is in the air. Even between yesterday - the last Bank Holiday of the season - and today, the change is tangible. You can almost hear the North Norfolk coast relaxing.

From an unpropitious start, the last 7 to 8 weeks have seemed like one of the best summers people can remember. Maybe it was because of the long cold spring that expectations were lowered. Indeed it changed almost from the moment that the official forecasts pronounced that it was not going to get any better and that we needed to get used to it, with summers likely to be disappointing for the next few years.

In reality it probably hasn't been that remarkable but the surprise of reasonably consistent 'summer' weather has also engendered a positive feeling about just how good life can be.  Annual events which over the last few seasons have started to seem a little routine took on a new shine. A bit more fizz and sparkle. The Burnham Craft Fair - a key event right at heart of the North Norfolk summer - not only felt fantastic but did great business and seemed to avoid some of the stresses and tensions associated with the busiest day of the year.  Watersports Day at Overy which in recent years was increasingly under threat from insurers and the Health & Safety ethos was back in its stride, blessed with just the right weather and fantastic support from local people. Reassuringly good.

On the cultural front the North Norfolk Music Festival is in the middle of an amazing programme with events sold out even when they're competing with fine summer's evenings. On one of the very few damp days, Jools Holland worked his magic at Holkham last Saturday and there is still the Food Fair to come.

And close to home, footfall and sales in the gallery are up. And that was before the opening of Gerard Stamp's latest exhibition with us.  Given the last few weeks I suppose it is not really a surprise that his unique evocations of the marshes, creeks and coast around Overy have been so well received and sold so quickly.  It is a modest exhibition in terms of number of works, but definitely worth seeing.

As somebody remarked at the weekend it feels like time for a rest.  In fact it's not really a rest but a change of pace and style that kicks in now.  More space, more serenity and eventually fewer events and activities. But this is probably how most of us who live and work here like it. Relaxed.

Out of step

My recent musings on the significance of the River Stiffkey prompted the kind of instant multi-directional discussion that has only come with the maturing of social media - in this case Twitter - and its wider use and acceptance.

A number of points emerged. Firstly no-one actually disputed what I was saying. Secondly it seems there is a view that the sea-fret I thought was a transient and ephemeral manifestation of the divide is a reflection of a more significant  block to the transference of weather across Norfolk. Thirdly, there don't appear to be any ley-lines hereabouts!

However and as ever, not to be outdone, Norfolk instantly provided its own alternative, transforming this possible short-coming into a highly distinct and indeed superior version, the Pie-line.  Norfolk never fails to surprise, never more so than here where, within seconds, what had initially been put forward as a slightly amusing alternative designed to appeal to the lovers of the Norfolk Pork Pie, was transformed into an ancient way, the Pork Pie Road, from Beccles to Hindolveston. And just in case there was any doubt about its provenance, this it transpired had been featured in The Independent no less, some 3 years past in an article discussing Norwich's location in much the same way my thoughts had rambled over north-west Norfolk.

Now whether the absence of the inferior and common ley-lines has anything to do with it I do not know but going back to the weather, not only has this week lent weight to the blocking effect of the Stiffkey, but it has also confirmed the difference between us and the rest of the country. Monday night into Tuesday morning saw spectacular storms. "The most lightning and rain across the country since records began"  Maybe not but you know what they say. And where did they stop their easterly advance? You know the answer but just in case - half an inch of rain and electrical storms in Lynn, Brancaster and Burnham; Hindolveston? - beyond the Stiffkey and the source of the Pork Pie Road (in more ways than one) - none. And none further east. Even more strangely, whilst the storms further afield left slightly cooler air, here in west Norfolk it has been hotter and more humid than before. Do different? Yes, wherever and whenever possible - but it's actually because the world here just is different to that strange standardised one beyond.

The Great Divide

The sun shone in Burnham on Friday last, as it has done for much of the last week. At 7.30am it was shining from a clear blue sky, as it was in Walsingham and as it was at Thursford and Sharrington. But it wasn't at Letheringsett, or Glandford, or Wiveton. Neither was it in Blakeney, Morston or Stiffkey. Actually it was in Stiffkey but only just.

So where is all this leading?  I have often held that Norfolk has an invisible divide between east and west. Not an Iron Curtain or even a net curtain, but certainly something changes. On Friday it was made visible in the weather.

So what is it? Let's put it this way, if you live in Norwich, Cromer and Sheringham are on the radar and you will visit them and indeed Blickling, Felbrigg and Holt.  You may also visit Blakeney.  A bit further and you feel uneasy. Morston? maybe. Wells? unlikely. Fakenham? very unlikely. It just doesn't feel like home. Conversely if you live in Wells, Brancaster of Fakenham do you go to Norwich? Hardly ever; maybe for the football or John Lewis. You're not comfy in Holt and why go to Cromer?

So just where is the line? Starting at the coast I would put it between Stiffkey and Morston. Coming inland somewhere between Warham and Binham. Deeper still, between Fakenham and Melton Constable. And then it gets confused by the Fakenham to Norwich road which surely is the boundary between North Norfolk and the county's heartland.

And then I realised. It's the River Stiffkey, one of Norfolk's unsung heroes.  Largely ignored and pretty well unknown apart from those who live along it, the Stiffkey is Norfolk's Great Divide. More powerful than it appears, less transient than Friday's sea fret, it is the physical representation of an unconscious but deeply felt change in character and atmosphere. A change in the feel of the place.

The perils of popularity

It may be a long way from Norfolk, but a comment this morning from a friend in Gloucestershire struck a chord. As a child she used to visit a local spot on the river. It was special to her and her family and friends. They canoed there. This last weekend it was overflowing - not only with humanity but sadly and somewhat inevitably with their rubbish. This is the price of popularity and being listed in a 'Top 50 place to ... " in weekend magazines. No longer secret, special or anything else much.

Almost immediately, a friend not a million miles away here in North Norfolk was bemoaning the litter pick she needed to do this morning outside her business.  She knew what they'd had for lunch because they left all the packaging for her to deal with. As she noted, they hadn't even shopped locally. 

I know how lucky I am to be here in Norfolk, and like many, prefer it when it's quiet. But courtesy of endless marketing - blatant and less blatant - there is no getting away from the fact that it's not quiet very often these days. It's certainly no longer secret; it is still special. Just.

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.