Carrington in Chichester

I want to write a bit more about Llanmadoc, but we also had another fun adventure, the week after we got back to Swansea.

We found out in the Spring that there was going to be an exhibition of paintings by our favorite two painters in the whole world/over all time: Leonora Carrington and Rememdios Varo -- at Pallant House Gallery in Chichester. Pallant House is a museum endowed by Edward James, who was a Lord of some kind (I think) who had a taste for Surrealist art and acquired a large collection. The museum, in association with the government of Mexico, developed this exhibition.

Carrington was born in the UK, but at a very young age she fled her family's social demands (she was a debutante and supposed to behave and marry well) and went first to London to study painting, and then to Paris--where she met the Surrealists and fell in love with Max Ernst. She and Ernst were together for only a short time before the threat of the Nazi's interrupted their artistic romance. Ernst, as a German alien in France, ended up in a camp. He was released briefly but ended up back in a Nazi camp after the Germans invaded. Carrington stayed in France for a while but eventually was forced to flee to Spain. In Spain she had a breakdown and ended up in Santander Asylum. Her family meanwhile tried to get her designated insane and committed permanently in another asylum in order to try and mitigate her "damage" to the family name. She was released from Santander, managed to give her family's agent the slip, and got away. She married a Mexican diplomat in order to obtain a visa to be able to leave Europe. After some time in New York she went to Mexico City. There she divorced (it had been a marriage of convenience, for the visas) and later married Emerico Weisz, a photographer and expatriate Hungarian Jew.

In Mexico City she continued to paint and develop a truly unique artistic style and an amazing body of work. She is now considered a Mexican artist--though she also spends some time in the US each year. She is about 93, still working.

So consider this part one.

As a p.s. There was a contest to write 150 words about the story behind one of Carrington's paintings. There were 3 paintings, 3 chances. Christien and I both wrote little poems to go with the images. So I will include one here to go with the image of one of the paintings ....




Are you really Syrious?

It is a dawn sky, the first of summer. Sirius rises: flame, fire. He noses up from the underworld where for two months he scented out the tunnels and caves, tracking through the maze. Weaver webs his progress on a loom of sails, each line of feather-fine silk is a line of light that Sirius scored through the dark. And now he is returned. There are dances to be done, another mark to carve on the totem. The long nails of the dogs scratch patterns across the marble tiles. They will all go hunting soon. Rabbits, through the dew-damp flowers. Antelopes, through the tall bent grass. The dogs will chase the hard hot heartbeat, hearing it far off in the cool morning, following its echo down toward the waiting river.

Puppies, puppies

Quite behind as usual ...

So--we were house-sitting out on the Gower for two weeks. It was gorgeous. A lovely house, lots of light. Our bedroom had windows to the north and south. South was a great rising hill topped with cairn/ruins. North was the trailing arm of the dunes out toward the tidal inlet, and a skeletal metal lighthouse (which once went on auction for 1 quid--they just wanted someone to take responsibility for the place's upkeep).

Morning one was us waking up at quarter to 7, stumbling downstairs to make sure the dogs didn't need to burst out of doors. But no, Lurchers seem to be a little bit camel (in the opposite sense) and never in a huge rush to go out and pee in the garden. But they were quite keen to get out on their walk and we rushed out the door, unbrushed, half-dressed, trailing bits of dream and sleep in our wake and bounded up the hill top (gasping desperately for air). Lurchers are part greyhound, sleek, fast, strong. Even Bella, with her injury, was a handful. They pulled us up and down. They long to chase and heaven help the sheep, rabbit, or cat who dashes past their nose if we were to lose the leads. (We managed, sometimes painfully. I brusied a finger holding onto Lyra when she lurched after a cat on one of our evening walks.)

After that first scattered business we learned how to cope better--if not gaining the upper hand exactly, we made a sort of compromise with the dogs. I came down early, let them out, had tea and a few almonds. Christien came down a bit later after stretching, and then I went up to change for the walk. Much more coordinated and organized.

First round here I will post a few pics of the dogs ...

Sweet Bella, who broke her foot in February, had just started wearing an orthodic brace and taking longer (45 min) walks with the rest again.


Lyra is the rescue that was abandoned in a parking lot. She is very shy--but warmed up to us by our first walk that evening and by the end of our two weeks we were very close. She loved to play and fetch. Can't believe a person who abuse such a sweet creature.


Terran was the baby, antsy, energentic and wicked strong! She loved to run straight up the garden and straight back again ... forget fetching.