Matisse, the Cut-Outs and sunny London Town

Friday morning and just time to plant some potatoes before we shoot up to Town to see the Matisse exhibition at Tate Modern 

Getting down to ground level and the plants that I miss on my trot up the garden path to the Shed are revealed - I had no idea that the wild strawberries had ripened . . . 

Feeling slightly pleased with myself . . . even though a touch late, but I noticed last year after our cold spell and very late start in the garden, that almost everything 'caught up' and nothing was wasted . . . so why not plant now?

I do have a control plant, this bed obviously (now) wasn't totally cleared and shows how far the potatoes would probably be if I'd planted at the recommended time.

Looking back over the millennium bridge, doesn't it look fab? and the graffitied chewing gum I saw in March is still in situ.

The anticipation grows as we approach Tate. One thing though, the queue inside for the Matisse is long, so if you don't have a membership card do book a timed ticket in advance.

The colours in the exhibition are astonishingly uplifting. 

Amphitrite 1947, is a series of small, gouache painted, sheets of paper with cut-outs layered over. Pin holes showing how each shape has been positioned and re-positioned. (Apologies for my poor photo from the book that accompanies the exhibition) 

The fact Matisse made combinations and re-combinations suggests to me an intuitive approach, coupled with a painstaking and arduous process.

But it gives rise to such a sense of vitality in his work . . . which is difficult to translate through these photos, so if you think you may be interested at all, do not miss it!

And the scale of so much is huge.

Women and Monkeys, 1952,

A particular favourite of mine, The Dragon, 1943-4, the colours sing. 

It doesn't translate into a different medium though. On the wall in the gallery it has 'life' the paper cut-outs convey a precarious, fragile existence . . . which drains away in the photograph.

The Heart, 1943, from the illustrated book, Jazz 

The Knife Thrower, 1943-4, from the illustrated book, Jazz

Christmas Eve, 1952, maquette for a stained glass window.

A visit to London is a great excuse to catch up with our youngest, so we stroll across to meet in Leicester Square. And while waiting, I take time to notice buildings I would usually just rush by in a hurry to be 'somewhere'.

Finishing off a fabulous afternoon with jasmine tea at the Cay Tre in Soho.

Paul Klee at Tate Modern

Crossing the Millennium bridge to get to the Tate is always a joy, great views of the river, St Paul's and Tate Modern. 

On the bridge these little pieces caught my eye. . . everyone was looking out for them.

Graffiti art in miniature! 

. . . the artist at work.

He's actually painting onto chewing gum and therefore not painting the bridge - neat way to go - and I'd say definitely not vandalism but an improvement.

Not the most prepossessing of entrances but Tate Modern is a fantastic space for exhibitions, we're here to see the Klee. 

It's a comprehensive exhibition, and as well as the usual suspects there is a large selection of less familiar works - it's just tremendous and I'd highly recommend a visit, but there isn't long. Sunday 9th March is the last day.

Lyrical mark making and deftness of touch . . . my most favourite piece in the show. 

View from our lunch table

. . . lunch (ah-hem not exactly healthy eating)

Back home and perusing my stash of goodies, the compulsory book and postcards.

The exhibition called this technique oil-transfer drawing. 

I'm more familiar with it as a mono-print process and one I'm pursuing just now for my Storm in a Teacup series.

Initial stages, and next week I'll work further into these two.

Not the first time I've allowed myself to be influenced by Klee's work.

I made a series of water colour mono-prints using Paul Klee's The Goldfish, as my reference source in the early 90's