There are times when life throws you a curve ball. It can come straight out of left-field without warning and you know nothing of it, till it smacks you on the head and leaves you wondering what on earth hit … Continue reading
It was Mark Twain who said: “In the spring I have counted one hundred and thirty-six different kinds of weather inside of four and twenty hours.” Well, that’s certainly true of this year ! I have never known such changeable … Continue reading
Hello Everyone, Happy New Year or Xronia polla! Christmas at home in London is always such a busy and wonderful ‘family’ time and this year, thankfully, was no exception. We had the added thrill of sharing the festivities with good … Continue reading
Hello, from a very wet, very cold and eerily quiet island! What a difference just a fortnight makes! At the start of this month Skiathos was still buzzing with tourists, the sun shone high in clear blue skies, tavernas were … Continue reading
Aah, the beautiful Lily………. ‘The modest Rose puts forth a thorn, The humble sheep a threat’ning horn: While the Lily white shall in love delight, Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.’ (William Blake 1757 – 1827) … Continue reading
NEW for 2010!! I’m absolutely delighted to tell you about TWO very exciting NEW courses on offer at ‘Painting Skiathos’ this coming season: (photo: © Sara Ridgley 2010) CREATIVE WRITING COURSE – with SARA RIDGLEY – MAY 29, 30 Successful, … Continue reading
Well, that’s it! The summer season in Skiathos is finally, officially, over for another year. It ended as the last charter plane, carrying the few remaining tourists took off into the clear blue sky this afternoon. Most businesses that hadn’t … Continue reading
What a busy time! Well it’s official, the summer season has definitely begun in earnest and with soaring temperatures and suffocating humidity you’d be forgiven for thinking this was August and not just the start of July. Having spent a … Continue reading
I was thrilled this morning to discover I’d received this award from a fellow artist whom I greatly admire, Sarah Lynch. These blog awards are a lovely way for artists to show their appreciation of each others work and, at … Continue reading
Hi Everyone!
Greetings from a cold and wet Skiathos. Yes, I’m back on this lovely Greek island, making ready for another exciting year ahead. Gosh, it’s hard to believe that ‘Painting Skiathos’ is one year old already!
‘Happy Birthday blog!’
To think that just 12 months ago I began this journey to fulfill a long-held dream, and in a relatively short space of time, it’s been realised! The art studio is up and running with courses filling up for a second year and stage 1 of the building works complete.
It might be cold, grey and damp here at the moment but I’m keeping warm and dry with the fire lit and the sweet smell of burning olive wood filling the house.
We have some days when the rain holds off long enough for a bracing walk. Yesterday I ventured up the lane into the valley behind the house and, apart from birdsong, in silence, passing through the peaceful olive groves and crossing the streams, the words of the ancient Greek poets came to mind
“Do not drink here, traveller, from this warm pool in the spring; for it is full of mud the sheep have stirred up. Go but a little way further over the ridge where the heifers sre grazing, and there, by the shepherd’s pine, you will find a spring bubbling up through the rock, colder than the snows of Boreas” Leonidas Of Tarentum XV1 – 230*
I love the island in these few short months that nature reclaims it and before the noisy frenzied pace of summer arrives.
You can walk for hours and never see another soul! In fact the only sign of life I came across, during several hours walking, was the occasional startled sheep, grazing goat or chicken!
“Dear Hermes, sharer of this hillside rich in fennel and chervil, and of this goat-pasture; be friendly to the herb-gatherer and the goatherd, and you shall have your portion of both the herbs and the milk” Leonidas of Tarentum 1X – 318*
in a just few short weeks the island will be showing the first signs of spring; with a riot of wild flowers carpeting the meadows, clear blue skies, long shadows and everywhere green, green, green! The first flocks of swifts have already arrived and begun to build their nests and a sense of expectation, mingling with the smell of woodsmoke, fills the air. So, as well as painting, I’m spending time in the garden, getting it ready and ship-shape for what promises to be another busy year ahead.
Last year was filled with one exciting adventure after another and the opportunity to make lots of new friends and meet some exceptional artists. Together we created LOTS of art and staged 3 art exhibitions. Welcoming guests from all over the globe, we exchanged ideas and learning from each other, over endless dinners and carafes of local wine we engaged in plenty of discussion, putting the world to rights and, best of all, we had fun!
All in spite of the hard work, the nail-biting and the set-backs; there were plenty of dark moments when I feared it would simply never happen; moments when my goal seemed unobtainable…….and, like Icarus, reaching for the sun, I found myself falling…
This beautiful painting is by artist Daniel Perez. To purchase a print or see more of his work, visit his online galleries HERE
But blessed with eternal (albeit naive) optimism and the help and support of some truly special friends…..’Painting Skiathos’ was born!.
So, A huge ‘Thank you!’ to everyone – not forgetting my readers – I couldn’t have done it without you and I look forward to welcoming you on this wonderful ‘shaded isle’, in the months ahead.
* Quotations taken from ‘Poems from the Greek Anthology’, translated by Robert Reid & published by Faber & Faber
Hi Folks!
Sorry, I didn’t mean to be silent for so long, after packing up ‘Painting Skiathos’ for another year and returning to London, I immediately contracted the dreaded ‘Australian ‘flu! I guess, with the air being so much purer on the island, these days, whenever I return to this thriving metropolis…I get sick! Happens every time. When you consider how many millions of people are crammed into this city, living and working side by side and all the accompanying germs, well, it’s hardly surprising I suppose! Happy to report I’m as fit as a fiddle once again. Wish I could say the same about my computer though (why does every thing go wrong at once?) I’ve been struggling along on an old lap top that just wouldn’t let me upload files or photos. Very frustrating! Any way, at long last, here I am.
Skiathos, when I left a couple of weeks ago, had certainly slowed down; beaches were deserted, tavernas empty and shops closed up for the season.
Skiathos old port from the now deserted Bourtzi
The last of the tourists depart on the sea-cat
and the Skiathites, tired from the frenzied pace of the summer, were winding down and re-claiming the island as their own once again. It’s actually a lovely time to be on the island. The leaves were turning from green to gold, the skies clouded over and the smell of wood smoke was beginning to fill the air.
Richard Buchanan -Dunlop, artist, poet and probably the longest ex pat resident on the island captures this time of year perfectly in his poem ’Troulos’. This, the final verse, is taken from his ‘Skiathos and other Poems’ anthology:
“At Troulos in the autumn time a gentle peace returns again
The withered grass and weary pines recover in welcome rain
The small taverna once more closed sits in a state of silent dread
Waiting for the lonely solitude the cold damp days that lie ahead
Summer debris lies around left for the wind and sea to clear
And Troulos sleeps the winter out whilst waiting for another year”
Sadly this book is now out of print but a new one, with his latest works and illustrated with many of his own paintings, is in the pipeline. I was fortunate enough to visit him in his studio, when he asked if I would photograph them in preparation for their publication, and I was surprised to discover what a prolific painter he is. There were literally hundreds canvasses, each bearing his trademark colourful, vibrant style ( a true reflection of his own profound, many-faceted, fascinating personality) everywhere!
Richard Buchanon-Dunlop in his studio, with some of his paintings
Richard B-D and yours truly
Old friends, Richard B-D with my Father
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SURPRISE, SURPRISE!
There’s nothing that makes being an artist more worthwhile (for me anyway!) than seeing one of my paintings going to a home where I know it is appreciated and will be treasured. My dear friend Matt (from the Loulou and the Dolpins Antiques gallery) and his friend, Kees, paid me a visit in the studio earlier, in the summer. I had just finished an oil painting of the olive tree that’s visible through the studio window. They didn’t stay very long and it was only when Matt called me a few hours later, to tell me how Kees had been waxing lyrical about the ‘Olive Tree’ ever since they returned home, that I had any indication he was even interested in it! With Kees’ Birthday coming up in September, Matt wanted to buy it as a surprise for him. I was leaving for London the next day and had planned to add it to the exhibition (running on the Bourtzi throughout the summer). He instructed me to go ahead and display it publically anyway but to make sure there was a (sold) red sticker on it – and I wasn’t to breathe a word to anyone, as it was to be a surprise.
Apparently, in my absence, Kees had visited the exhibition and was distraught to find the painting ‘sold’, wishing he’s seized the chance to buy it himself when he first saw it! Several times he went back, to show friends, kicking himself every time!
When September arrived and I was back in Skiathos, I was invited to Kees’ birthday dinner. I took the painting earlier in the day, secreting it in the kitchen – so when I arrived at 8.00pm with only a ‘bottle’ and card, the deception was complete. When the moment arrived for Kees to open his gifts he’d clearly absolutely no idea what was wrapped in the large package. As the realisation dawned, incredulity was written all over his face (not only at receiving the painting he’d loved but that Matt had been able to keep it a secret for so long!). I was just delighted to be on hand to witness his amazement and to capture that very special moment on film. Take a look – the photos speak for themselves:
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Whether one believes in ‘Fate’, ‘Serendipity’ or just plain old coincidence, there’s no denying that often, when one goes in search of something, with an open mind, doors miraculously open and unlikely paths somehow lead us directly to the answers we seek.
I began my quest; searching for confirmation that the rural English idyll of my childhood still exists, while out walking on a damp, drizzly afternoon, between the far-stretching wheat fields along a ridge overlooking a valley in the boulder-clay country in the old county of Huntingdon (now Cambridgeshire),
I stumbled upon a beautiful 14th century church; St Andrew’s at Steeple Gidding. Sadly it’s no longer in regular use, for the parish it served, no longer exists, it is however still beautifully maintained by The Churches Conservation Trust. 
Surprised to find the heavy door unlocked and with a charming note pinned to it which read: “……This door is NOT locked – However – the door is sometimes difficult to open. (thinks -now there’s a metaphor!) Turn the handle a 1/4 to the left and push the bottom of the door with your foot………!):
I followed the instructions and entered. The air was heavy with ancient history and, with the late afternoon sun streaming through the stained glass windows I stood (for the pews had long since been removed) in the peaceful stillness 
and considered that my fears were perhaps not unfounded after all; all that remains of this once thriving agricultural, thriving English community was this monument to glorious days long past. I left with a heavy heart and continued along the country path.
After a while another church loomed into view: St John’s at ‘Little Gidding’. 
This time instead of an air of neglect and sadness, I sensed it was full of life, set as it is in the immaculately manicured gardens of Ferrar House which, I soon discovered, is the home of the T.S Eliot Society. Upon entering the tiny chapel, and finding books of this famous poet on display, I was delighted to find the last of his ‘Four Quartets’ was in fact entitled ‘Little Gidding’!.
Reading his beautiful, profound words:
“If you came this way,
Taking any route, starting from anywhere,
At any time or at any season,
It would always be the same: you would have to put off
Sense and notion. You are not here to verify,
Instruct yourself, or inform curiosity
Or carry report. You are here to kneel
Where prayer has been valid. And prayer is more
Than an order of words, the conscious occupation
Of the praying mind, or the sound of the voice praying.
And what the dead had no speech for, when living,
They can tell you, being dead: the communication
Of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living.
Here, the intersection of the timeless moment
Is England and nowhere. Never and always.”
and…..
“A people without history
Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern
Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails
On a winter’s afternoon, in a secluded chapel
History is now and England”.
I began to understand that perhaps I’d been too quick in reaching the conclusion that the England I sought had all but disappeared. Still further clarity and proof was needed and, as luck would have it, later the same evening, it was to follow.
I attended an ‘open mike’ session at a nearby village pub. Several musicians and poets (notably the outstandingly talented, witty, and hysterically funny Tim Clare, writer, performance poet and musician) gathered in the large old barn at the rear and entertained us brilliantly with their music using a wide range of instruments that included guitars, a flute, eukelele and mandolin, singing both traditional and contemporary English folk songs.
It was also an opportunity for some of the artists to showcase their latest work. The lyrics of one song, written and composed by Mike Whitaker,
held particular significance for me and slowly I began to understand as everything fell into place, that my quest was over; I had indeed found, as his title suggests:
“A LITTLE BIT OF ENGLAND”
“I am Gaius Marcus, Centurion of Rome
In Brittania with the 20th, a thousand miles from home.
My soldiers guard the border, all under my command
Romans and invaders, marching up and down the land
I’m a little bit of England, that’s not English after all
Marching in the freezing cold, the length of Hadrian’s wall.
We’ve kept Brittania from the Picts through thunder and the rain
And when the Emperor calls us home, our legacy remains….
A band of Irish brothers, we set sail across the sea
All hoping for employment – Paddy, Fergus, Mick and me.
You’ll see me by the trackside, a hammer in me hand
Just a bloody navvy laying steel across the land
I’m a little bit of England that’s not English after all
Taking ship from Dublin just to heed the worker crew’s call
We’ll work here for a decade, laying track for Brunel’s trains
When we sail back to Ireland’s shores, our legacy remains….
Now me and Jake and Randy came across in ’44
A band of Air Force brothers flying bombers in the war
Chatting-up the ladies, take them dancing with a band
Just a bloody Yankee, flying high across the land
I’m a little bit of England that’s not English after all
Flown in from America: beside you, standing tall
The skies of England darken with a thousand of our planes
And when we fly back stateside, our legacy remains…
All the way from Poland, I’ve come over here to work
With Aleksy and Paulina, for the jobs the English shirk
You claim we’re taking jobs away, but I don’t understand
How come there’s no-one English working with me on the land?
I’m a little bit of England that’s not English after all
Across from Eastern Europe, far and wide we hear the call
Cheap labour, easy money, England’s loss is our gain
Do you wonder, when we leave here, just what legacy remains….?”
Hearing those words, it dawned on me that the England I had been searching for, didn’t really exist anywhere other than in my own mind. It was simply an ‘ideal’, rooted in fond childhood memories and nostalgia – just a moment in time that would never come again- just as I would never be able re-live those golden years.
I realised we have always been a nation of ‘foreigners’, ever since these shores were first invaded and occupied. Each group of settlers brought (and continues to bring!), it’s own culture and traditions and each in turn leaves its unique legacy behind.
That’s what makes Britain the richly colourful and diverse society it is today. Our ‘green and pleasant land’ certainly does exist – though who can rightfully claim its ownership? Well, that would appear to be open to individual interpretation!
I’ll sign off with a little prayer I came across in ‘Little Gidding Church’ – it seems a particularly appropriate note to end on:
PRAYER FOR PEACE
Lead me from Death to Life,
From Falsehood to Truth
Lead me from Despair to Hope,
From Fear to Trust,
Lead me from Hate to Love,
From War to Peace
Let Peace fill our Heart,
our World, our Universe…..
(Lyrics of ‘A Little Bit of England’ are reproduced here by kind permission of their author & copyright holder, Mike Whitaker)
Doors, whether they’re ornately sophisticated, triumphant works of art or, charmingly rustic, simple and more concerned with functionality (as is more typical on a Greek island), they’ve always held a particular fascination for me.
Doors are common everyday objects that all of us use everyday without even thinking about it. They’re just something to open if we want to get’ in’ and either pass through or close behind us, when we leave. Unless they’re particularly noticeable, by their beauty or architectural significance (or unexpectedly locked), they‘re rarely paid any attention at all! Yet we all spend our lives living ‘behind closed doors’,’ opening the door of our homes’ to friends, seeking’ doors of opportunity’ etc, till eventually we arrive, as we all must, at ‘Death’s door’ and, perhaps even beyond; entering the ‘Doors to the kingdom of Heaven or Hell’
They’re often symbolically endowed with ritual purposes, and the guarding or receiving of the keys to a door, or being granted access to a door can have special significance.
Doors and doorways frequently appear in metaphorical or allegorical situations, in the arts, often as a portent of change, .and in literature (The writer Stephanie Strickland says that, ‘poems are words that take you through three kinds of doors: closed doors, secret doors, and doors you don’t know are there’,
Here are some of the doors to be found in Skiathos (accompanied by the words of (some great) poets who found inspiration, in reference to the humble door:
‘The sparrow flies swiftly, .in through one door….out through another
Similarly, man appears on earth for a little while
But we know nothing of what went on
Before his life and what follows’
- The Venerable Bede 673 – 735
‘I compare human life to a large mansion of many apartments,
Two of which I can only describe, the doors of the rest
Being as yet, shut upon me’
- John Keats 1795 – 1821
‘There was a door to which I found no key
There was a veil past which I could not see’
&
‘Myself when young did eagerly frequent,
Doctor and Saint, and heard great Argument,
About it, and about: but evermore
Came out by the same Door I went in’
- Edward Fitzgerald 1809 – 1883
‘Men shut their doors
Against a setting sun’
- Shakespeare 1564 – 1516, ‘Timon of Athens’
‘The sweetest thing that ever grew
Beside a human door!’
- William Wordsworth, ‘Lucy Gray’, 1770 – 1850
‘One., two, buckle my shoe
Three, four, knock at the door’
- Nursery rhymes
‘It was a summer evening
Old Kaspar’s work was done
And he before his cottage door
Was sitting in the sun’
- Robert Southey 1774 – 1843
‘A trick that everyone abhors,
In little girls is slamming doors’
- Hilaire beloc 1870 – 1953
‘I seem forsaken and alone
I hear the lion roar
And every door is shut but one
And that is Mercy’s door’
- William Cowper 1731 – 1800
“Is there anybody there?” said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door’.
- Walter De La Mare 1873 – 1956
‘Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose garden’
- T.S. Eliot 1888 – 1965
‘I see a red door and I want to paint it black’
- Rolling Stones song lyrics
‘…….Knocking at Death’s door’
- Thomas Sackville 1536 – 1608
‘Knock, knock, knocking at Heaven’s door’
- Bob Dylan’s song lyrics
The Mayor of Skiathos chose the work of local artists for the theme of next year’s ‘official’ calendar. I felt so honoured when I discovered he’d chosen one of my paintings for the front cover and another painting (from of my ‘Chuches of Skiathos’ series) was selected for the accompanying booklet. I will have similar calendars (in English) available for sale on my website soon. If anyone would like to pre-order one, just let me know (they will be in the Skiathos shops this summer).
Prints of all my paintings are for sale at:
Every year in August, the Mayor of Skiathos’ Cultural Committee organises an Art Exhibition, on the Bourtzi, to display and promote the work of local artists. It is always a highly successful and extremely well-attended event with virtually the whole population of Skiathos, turning out for what is one of the most eagerly-anticipated highlights in the Skiathos calendar.
These are some photos of the last year ‘s event showing the work of just some of the artists (out of more than thirty who exhibited) . Namely Despina Mitselos, Asia Brassan, Gail Stathakis, Stamatas Patir, Giasemi Kondili, Georgios Vrezarianos, Eleni Mermiga, Panagiota Koroniou…… and myself
Here are four of my paintings from the ‘Skiathos Churches’ series:
