BOB DYLAN: THE DRAWN BLANK SERIES 10th ANNIVERSARY AT CASTLE GALLERIES

BOB DYLAN: THE DRAWN BLANK SERIES 10th ANNIVERSARY
AT CASTLE GALLERIES

Links:

https://www.castlegalleries.com/galleries/castle-galleries-meadowhall 

https://www.castlegalleries.com/bob-dylan-2016

Email: meadowhall@castlegalleries.com

Tel: 0114 256 9777

I had a browse around Castle Galleries, Meadowhall, Sheffield this morning and what a fine shop/gallery it is.

The main event at the moment is Bob Dylan: The Drawn Blank Series 10th Anniversary:

'Whilst travelling on tour between 1989 and 1992, Bob Dylan created a collection of drawings that were published in a book entitled Drawn Blank in 1994. These expressive works captured Dylan's chance encounters and observations. The creation of these portraits, interiors, landscapes, still lives, nudes and street scenes were done to "relax and refocus a restless mind".'

In 2008, a major exhibition of selected original paintings from 'The Drawn Blank Series' premiered at Halcyon Gallery, London, and signed limited edition graphics have been released since 2008.

Train Tracks, Woman In Red Lion Pub, Sunflowers and Bicycle are just four of the limited edition exhibits in Castle Galleries.

Thank you to James Shore for the chat and for the complimentary copy of the rather splendid catalogue. Greatly appreciated.

And to you, dear reader, much encouragement to pop in to one of a number of Castle Galleries across the country, but make the effort if you are in the vicinity of Meadowhall. Follow the links above.

And it's not all about his Bobness, although that is a bit special. There are many other works of brilliant art on display.

Oh, and they are nice people!

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EAVESDROPPINGS 4

Over a long period of time, I have jotted down snatches of conversations overheard in the streets, in queues, in waiting rooms and barber shops, on trains, in cafes, pubs and restaurants and all manner of places.

They are all true moments. I have no idea what the conversations were before and after the bits I overheard. Here's a few examples to add to 

Eavesdroppings 1 - https://droppedthemoon.blogspot.com/2018/05/eavesdroppings-1.html

Eavesdroppings 2 - https://droppedthemoon.blogspot.com/2018/05/eavesdroppings-1.html

Eavesdroppings 3 - https://droppedthemoon.blogspot.com/2018/06/eavesdroppings-3.html

“It’s my relationship.

Nobody’s business.

And it suits me.”

“It’s predicated

on a different suite of relationships.” 

“He lies horizontal

and I lie diagonal.” 

“I told him straight

and he didn’t like it one bit.” 

“It’s years since

I did that.” 

She goes on and on and on.

I just switch off.” 

“Ach, you’re joking.

You're not, are you?” 

“I’d rather have a fracture

than a break any day." 

“Probably Greece

but more likely the back garden.” 

“It’s a brand new one.

It’s made of wood.” 

“If that’s what it takes,

I’m all for it.” 

“Really? I can’t imagine

doing that.” 

“No chance.

Not a hope, pal.” 

“She wasn’t even invited.

The cheek.’ 

“You should see the list of things 

he gets free now that he’s a pensioner.” 

“What’s the point of a tattoo

if nobody can see it.” 

“The car park machine

wouldn’t take my coins.”

“Stop touching my arm.” 

“I’m his wife.

Not a passenger."

“It curls my brain.” 

A PLAGUE ON HIGH STREETS

(A stock image to illustrate the point.)

I am not wishing a plague on High Streets but I am highlighting a growing epidemic ........... of advertising A-Boards outside shops, estate agents and other businesses.

I live near the town of Worksop in the East Midlands. The main thoroughfare is Bridge Street. I try to avoid going in on market days. Today, Wednesday is such a day. I had to go into town to do an urgent bit of business.

A-Boards + market stalls = not a helluva lot of walking space for the public.

In a half-mile or so stretch of Bridge Street, I counted 49 A-Boards, making the street more like a slalom run. It is very frustrating, especially if you are in a hurry because the car park clock is ticking. I couldn't wait to do what I came in to do and get out of there.

If there are still such things as Town Centre Managers, why are they allowing businesses to spill out onto the streets? Why are A-Boards not controlled more strictly? And what evidence is there to show that A-Boards actually bring in more punters? They are a bloody nuisance.

It is not just Worksop. I have visited dozens of market towns over the years and most of them suffer from this blatant and unchallenged commandeering of public walking space.

Rise up and take back our pedestrian space! (I'll have to work on that slogan!!)

BALL BUSTER & RAGGY DUSTER - A RETAIL MEMORY

I joined British Home Stores, Belfast in 1973, was transferred to Manchester in 1976 and then to Romford, Essex in 1977, where this piece is set......

In British Home Stores in the 70s, we in the lower ranks seemed to find common ground and team spirit in our collective fear and dread of our store managers who were tough, sometimes uncompromising authoritarians, “old school” status-conscious bullies at times, you might say.  The most fearsome of them all, Mr Robinson, (for these were the days when we were definitely not on chummy first name terms) would rule his store and his team with an iron fist and a terrifying scowl.  He controlled everything and if you crossed or displeased him in any way, you were subjected to the fiercest bollocking you can imagine and you left his presence shaking.  He had the sinister knack of arriving on the sales floor and, somehow, exuding an aura of terror amongst the managers.  We did not even have to look up.  We knew he was there.  On the occasions when I did look up, he would be standing a good hundred feet away staring back at me before wagging his come-hither finger.  In a terrified Uriah Heep, ever so humble way, I would approach him knowing that he had spotted at least three things on my department that needed attention.  “Use your eyes, son.  Make sure you see these things before I see them.”  I would nod silently and he would march away to terrify the next department manager.

If you wanted a new duster for your department, you had to take your old one to his office, knock the door, await his barking instruction to enter and then request a replacement cloth.  He would be reclining back in his chair, stone-faced and, I swear, not blinking.  He would grab the old rag dangling from your trembling fingers, hold it up to the light, peer at you through the holes in the fabric and then thrust it back at you.  “There’s at least half a dozen more cleans in that, boy,” he would shout.  This was one of my first groundings in cost control, albeit a trifle extreme but a good lesson in watching the pennies.  I wasn’t rational enough in those days to understand it but when I became a store manager myself, I often used this true tale as a benchmark against waste.  My team members looked at me with the same quizzical expression I had used a couple of decades before.  But, no one can deny the principle of not wasting a business’s money unnecessarily.

On reflection, seeing how standards of service and *staff appearance are these days in a lot of shops, I think retailing could use some of the Robinson bark and bite to restore a wee bit of discipline.  I have obviously lived and learned - a graduate of the old school.

*And don't get me started on that!

EAVESDROPPINGS - 3

Over a long period of time, I have jotted down snatches of conversations overheard in the streets, in queues, in waiting rooms and barber shops, on trains, in cafes, pubs and restaurants and all manner of places.

They are all true moments. I have no idea what the conversations were before and after the bits I overheard. Here's a few examples to add to Eavesdroppings 1 - https://droppedthemoon.blogspot.com/2018/05/eavesdroppings-1.html

and Eavesdroppings 2 - https://droppedthemoon.blogspot.com/2018/05/eavesdroppings-1.html

“I know it’s only a pound more

but I begrudge giving it to them.”

“No, no, no. That’s not what

you said this morning.’

“I was so sure

his middle name was Charles.”

“How many more times?

No. No. No. No. No.

Same answer to the next five questions.”

“I’m fed up backing losers.”

“Just tell him. Let him know.

Draw a line.”

“That dog’s disgusting.”

“He can walk alright

but it hurts when he turns left.”

“You need to bring a packed lunch

to that Post Office.”

“Not if I win 

the lottery first.”

“Most of the time

she’s in her jim-jams all day.”

“Come four o’clock,

the big light goes on.”

“I couldn’t care less

about my wobbly fat on a beach.”

“I had a big lunch

and a big dinner

every day last week.”

“He cut his hand

on a tin of salmon

and the laugh is 

he doesn’t eat fish.”

“My shoes have

memory foam.”

“Be careful.

Nothing too spicy.”

“I need a hobby. 

Nothing expensive.”

“Been to the doctor

but he’s too young to understand.”

“That school is like a prison.

Too many stupid rules.”

“No way can I drink coffee

without sugar. Loads of it. 

The sugar police can fuck off.”

I’ve off TV for Lent,

except for the odd catch-up.”

RIP GEORGE - WE KNEW YOU BUT WE DIDN'T KNOW YOU

From as far back as I remember I have always absorbed the credits at the end of films and television programmes. I have built up a store of knowledge that is useful occasionally but otherwise useless, but it's a bit of an obsession. In fact, if I don't see the opening credits to a film, it spoils the whole thing for me. Similarly, if I don't see the end the credits, I feel shortchanged. These days, TV does that very irritating thing of reducing the size of closing credits in order to advertise what is coming next. A load of names of skilled and talented people are reduced to tiny letters that even the sharpest of eyeballs would fail to decipher. It's insulting really. After the names of the big stars, co-stars, familiar writers and directors, most names on movie reels are of people we may never hear of again, but they have been involved in what we have just experienced. In their own ways, they are important ingredients. They deserve a nod at the very least.

And so to life. We grow up with key people in our lives taking centre stage - parents, teachers, employers, etc. - and in the company of 'extras', people we see from time to time during the course of every day life. In my terms, I am talking about bus conductors, shop assistants, checkout operators, postmen and women, local trades people and so on. People I know but really don't know in terms of friendships, people who become part of a sort of tapestry illustrating my existence.

For thirty years, we have had annual holidays in Portugal, the Algarve to be precise, Oura in Albufeira to be more so. We know the area very well and it takes next to no time to get our bearings once we unpack at the apartment. We have our preferred restaurants and the one we go to most often is Paulu's Pizzeria. It is a typical pasta/pizza place with a signature starter dish of garlic mushrooms, unlike any I have eaten anywhere else. Once I taste those mushrooms, I know for sure I am on holiday. The service is efficient, sometimes, amongst the waiting staff, a smile-free zone, but that's the way it is.

Over the years, we got to know the owner of the restaurant, George (we never knew his surname), a charming host always ready with a smile, a wave, a handshake or a chat. In our lives, he has indeed been an 'extra' but without seeing George, the Paulu's experience is a diminished one, slightly.

We have just returned from a week in that part of Portugal and we ate twice at Paulu's, as great as ever. The first night, the Sunday, no George. We thought it must be a night off. The second time was Saturday when my wife enquired about him only to be told that he had died. It was a shock. We don't know the cause of death but, estimating George's age at around 50, and seeing his face in my head now, he looked a healthy, energetic man. It makes no sense.

We knew him but didn't know him. He was and always will be part of our holiday memories. He is a name on the list of credits in our family's life story, deserving of not just a nod but a salute.

We'll miss him very much, all the more so when we are sitting in his restaurant on future holidays.

RIP and thank you, George.

EAVESDROPPINGS - 2

Over a long period of time, I have jotted down snatches of conversations overheard in the streets, in queues, in waiting rooms and barber shops, on trains, in cafes, pubs and restaurants and all manner of places.

They are all true moments. I have no idea what the conversations were before and after the bits I overheard. Here's a few examples. 

"I’ll see you on the 5^th

unless it changes to the 7^th."

"I told him I wanted

all them presents wrapped

by the time I get home." 

"It’s all pins and pisswords, 

I mean passwords, these days." 

"I only need a small one

but if he gives me the large one

at the same price as a small one,

I’ll take it." 

"Don’t feed the wrong bread to birds.

It sticks to their beaks." 

"I’d phone but I can’t remember the number.

Anyway, I haven’t got my phone with me." 

"That man playing the accordion

obviously hasn’t had his second lesson yet."

“If it’s not working, it’ll be 

the snow on the satellite dish.” 

“I don’t like onions

but I love onion rings.” 

“You can tell by the way he stands

that he’s about to hit somebody.” 

“I had £90 cash in my wallet this morning.

Not even lunchtime and I’ve got zip.” 

“I’m going to Greece. 

He can come if he likes.” 

“I’d had a few drinks 

but I was stone-cold sober.” 

“Are you going to walk

the same speed as me,

or what?” 

“I could murder

a sausage sandwich.” 

“I’ll grin and bear it for a while longer

before bothering the doctor.” 

“I’m gagging. I’m gagging.” 

“I’ve been at this stall for four hours

and I haven’t even made a quid.” 

“You can pick and mix

off the Valentine’s love menu.” 

“Shopping trolleys are handy

but they do get heavy.” 

“To get the benefit

you have to exercise as well.” 

“I’ll wait here for you.

Don’t come out the wrong door.” 

“You carry this bag 

and I’ll carry that bag

And we’ll swap halfway.” 

“He bought a brown suit.

He bought a brown suit.”