Anita's Christmas Show 2010

We are delighted to have 'Anita's Designs' back this year with her amazing seasonal decorations and wonderful flower arrangements.

  Do come and see 'Anita's Christmas Stable -

Open Tuesday to Sunday 10.30am - 4.30pm

POT OF THE MONTH - NOVEMBER 2010

CURATOR’S CHOICE

POT OF THE MONTH

Mark Dally's Platter

This month there is a wide range of beautifully crafted pots in the Gallery’s Christmas Show.  In some ways choosing just one is objectively difficult and so I am responding to a piece which has a powerful aesthetic appeal for me and hopefully everyone who has a chance to experience this work at first hand will make a similar connection.

Mark Dally has to be one of the finest decorators in studio pottery. His patterns are strong and vibrant and each stroke displays innate confidence, visual awareness and a designers focus, which will have been honed during his first and Masters degrees in Ceramic Design at Staffordshire University.

This platter is a fine example of his work. It brings the pot to life and whilst it is clearly a ‘busy’ design it has that sense of completeness that is the hallmark of the master decorator. Hope that you enjoy it too.

POT(S) OF THE MONTH - OCTOBER 2010

 Curator's choice
POT(S) OF THE MONTH

MARTIN McWILLIAM

This is the first time that we have shown the work of Martin McWilliam at Bevere and it has been such a pleasure to exhibit these distinctive "Trompe-l'œil" pieces. Each one has much to commend it however, in a group, they give as much pleasure as a Morandi still life. It is common to talk about volume and the heft of the pot but in this case the pieces generate, through skilful modelling and shading, a presence which is beyond the space they occupy. "Trompe-l'œil" by definition is presenting as real that which is far from real – an optical illusion. This is high craft and Martin has the acute eye which is essential in the making of such compelling work

Stuart Dickens

Eric James Mellon's 85th Birthday

This celebratory exhibition  got off to a great start on this lovely sunny evening  at Bevere.  Eric was in good form having spent the afternoon looking around Worcester  with  Stuart our ceramic curator and enjoying a boat trip on the river.

 He talked to many of the guests
and enlarged on his life as an Artist/ Potter

in his informal speech to open the show.








There were 90 new works of art in the exhibition -  Original prints, pots and paintings

 

Eric signing his new book

POT OF THE MONTH - SEPTEMBER 2010

CURATOR’S CHOICE

POT OF THE MONTH

ERIC JAMES MELLON - DREAMING MAIDEN

It is hardly a surprise that the choice this month should come from this special 85th Birthday Exhibition. This small vessel is not the largest in the show, nevertheless it has so much that is redolent of Eric’s best work. The bean ash glaze has fixed a wonderfully drafted nude maiden and a jaunty spotted horse. If Eric were writing this, there would be more to tell as every Mellon pot holds a story.

The scale of this pot means that it sits very comfortably in the palm of one’s hand. It repays the time spent looking at every angle including a small portrait of the maiden on the foot.

This pot punches above its weight and is one of the treasures amongst an exhibition of extraordinary work.

Pat Tromans's " 'Just Write' Amongst Artists" Creative Writing Workshop

We were pleased to host and welcome Pat and her students to create a picture with words (as one of our facebook friends put it)

They gathered in the Gallery Craft room with many

 paintings around them

 Wandered through the

Sculpture Garden gaining inspiration from many of the exhibits

and chatted after lunch  in the Gallery Café

A piece created  by Penny Cooper one of the students during the workshop-

"A rusty roller

Leans against the ancient oak

That spreads its branches over static sheep

The sheep are lifeless,

Frozen, gazing across the grass.

They cannot hear the wind surging through the trees

Or add their voices to the cawing crows.

But golden dragonflies can flit about

Pausing to rest their gossamer wings

Upon the sun-warmed bench.

And robin can perch

Unharmed on the gorilla's head

While the pig, arms outstretched

Must wait forever his chance to dance.

We can stroll by leafy paths

Through twisted rhododendron tunnels

Past a green man with ivy hair.

We feel the wind on our cheeks

And smell sweet scents of flowers

But the wire woman is forever condemned

To heave herself out of the ground

On splayed hands and outstretched fingers.

Striving to free herself, and go

We know not where.

Penny Cooper August 2010"

and another by  Linda Hutton

Moon-gazing

"Ellie knew it was him long before she saw him. The smell of Balkan Sobrany from his pipe wafted ahead of him, and she heard the sound of him marching down the gravel path.

“In here,” she called.

He stuck his head around the first tree trunk to look into the glade.

“What are you up to now, cariad?” he asked, then spotted the sculpture. “Bloody hell, a dancing pig! Whatever goes on in your head sometimes?”

His words might seem brusque but they were delivered with affection, and Ellie knew that he’d be smiling when she turned and looked at him. Her big brother hadn’t an artistic bone in his body, but was very proud of her.

“Are we still going riding, then?” he asked, putting a hand under her arm to help her up.

“Oh yes! I just had to put this little chap in place.”

“You could’ve done that tomorrow.”

“I know, Bob, but somehow I feel he needs to be out here today.”

He rolled his eyes in mock despair, then took her heavy shoulder bag off her and arm in arm they walked away, him slowing his long stride to match her limping one.

Dusk came, birds twittered their evening chorus, and with the departure of people from the gallery and sculpture gardens a pleasant hush fell over the place. Long shadows stretched further out and beneath the trees a quiet tension began to build.          

“Are they gone?” the smallest of the sheep statues communed to its  companions. Together they had stood beneath the spreading arms of the great oak since spring. Flowers had come and gone with the seasons but now they were going. All day they had been practicing their farewell song, and soon it would be heard.

 “All clear!” The gorilla from by the front door swung into the garden, nimbly swinging over the garden wall and locked gate, and knuckling his way over the lawn to meet them.

  “Your last full moon here, then?”

“Yes,” the lead sheep baahed. “We’re off to a garden somewhere.”

“I’m scared,” the small sheep bleated. “It’ll be strange and we won’t know anyone.”

“But at least we’re together..,”

“...together..,”

“...together,” the other three baahed in unison.

“But what if there’s a dog?” the little one persisted. “The one here’s friendly but others might not be.”

“Don’t you fret, it’ll all be fine,” the gorilla said reassuringly. “You’ve got your leaving song all ready for us?”

“Oh yes...”

“...oh yes..,”

“...oh yes..,”

“...oh yes!”

Together the sheep and the gorilla moved across the darkened lawn. A Green Man plaque on the wall whistled to attract their attention and the gorilla lifted him down by standing on the back of one of the sheep.

“Can’t think why they stuck me on the wall out here!” the Green Man sighed, “it’s going to be interesting next month if I’m still here.”

“Don’t you worry, mate, I’ll get you to the gathering somehow,” the gorilla assured him.

Moving into the wood they found the other Green Man and the Green Lady and some of the other sculptures who could roll their own way to the assembly beneath the trees. Moonlight fell on parts of the garden, but not here, deep in the thicket and far from the prying human eyes inside the house.

“We have a newcomer!” the Green Lady announced from her vantage point on the tree. “Over there!”

            There in the middle of the tiny clearing stood the terracotta pig. His arms spread wide, snout in the air, nostrils flared as if waiting for some unknown thing to happen. His tail was curled in anticipation as he sat on his stone stump, frozen in time. Together the others began a soft humming, and, as the last of the warm herb scents from the courtyards faded and the cool night air awoke more earthly scents, the pig blinked.

“Welcome,” the gorilla said. “For whatever time you are here you are one of us. Do you sing?”

“Sing?” the little pig blinked, seeming astonished that he had been freed from his solid state. “I don’t think so.”

The other looked from one to another. It was rare that an awakened piece lacked a voice, but sometimes it did happen.

“Not to worry,” the Green Man called down. “Just listen and follow us in the choruses.”

Together they settled into a circle as near as they were able, and then they each sang their song, led first by the Green Lady. After the gorilla had rumbled his way through a shanty he gestured to the sheep, who were the only ones left who hadn’t sung besides the pig.

“Time for your farewell song,” he said. “You know the code now: to awaken others whom you encounter, keep the faith, and don’t let the humans see!”

Leaning close to one another the sheep sang a beautiful chant, noses lifted and eyes gazing at the flickers of moonlight which peeked now and then through the canopy. If a human had opened the window they would have heard nothing, but the spirit song was heard by all those gathered, clear and true.

“Go in peace to your new home, we’ll not forget you,” the Green Lady said, then turned to the pig. “And what of you little one? What does your heart tell you to do?”

The pig waved a trotter experimentally, then another. Then, as a shaft of moonlight finally found a hole and sent a shaft of white light to the woodland floor, the pig slipped off his stony seat and began to dance. He pirouetted on wobbly legs at first, then as stars twinkled above and he gained confidence he began to move more rapidly. Like a tiny shaman of old he danced with a love of life, little feet tripping across the fallen leaves, forepaws outstretched and a smile on his face.

“Will that do?” he asked when he stopped.

“That’s just perfect,” the gorilla said. “Welcome brother!” 

Feedback comments from a couple of students :-
  " Inspiring venue & excellent food & facilities."
     " . . . the setting is wonderfully inspiring."

From Pat: I liked the way the writers wanted to pick up where the artists left off.  The artists captured living forms in static materials;  the writers' response was to re-animate them in their stories and poems.


 

 

Amelia Humber's - Solo Exhibition in the Gallery

Amelia Humber visited Bevere and enjoyed exploring the Gallery areas and talking to Stuart our Ceramic Curator

also  the Sculpture Trail.











We are pleased to show her paintings in the Main gallery throughout August

They strive to relay the atmosphere and emotion of the landscape through a personal and momentary experience. They contain the ideas of capturing the sublime and those immediate feelings of drama in a continuously changing landscape

Her interest in the landscape was stimulated by her childhood in the countryside of West Sussex where adventures on the South Downs with its ever changing skies and their dramatic effects on the land beneath became her inspiration when she discovered her passion for painting