Galleries for a snowy day

When it hit, I was ready. Wooly cardigan - check. Red scarf - check. Red beret - check. Umbrella - check. Gloves - half check (only have one). And step outside, into the snow. Ah, yes, it is not over yet. The various monuments along Princes Street did not look as impressive as usual with the wet snow heaped on their heads.

On the way to work...

The blizzards raged throughout the day, but by the time I was free of the keyboard and screen again all had turned into mush. People were hurrying in the rain, hiding their faces in upturned collars and generally struggling to ignore the outdoors which was violently upsetting their plan by turning umbrellas inside out and negotiating its chilly fingers through the sleeves and into the cosy inside of their jackets. As I was walking down Hanover Street I could not help myself and stepped into the cozy vegetably artsy interior of Henderson's Shop and Bistro.

Henderson's interior.

It is a lovely shop, with lovely food, and lots and lots of tasty healthy and indulgent treats. As I was browsing exciting exotic chocolates I had a chat with, hm, well this is a family business, and she is the aunt, so perhaps in some way is a co-owner? Either way, she told me that the business has actually been going on since the seventies. I know Edinburgh is a wealthy city, but I still found it very impressive. The shop has a restaurant downstairs which I intend to explore once rainy weekend.

Stocked up on salad and Chili Chocolate I headed back out and continued down Hanover street, shedding flakes of a delicious spanakopita I got to keep me going until dinner time. I was heading for the Scottish Gallery on Dundas Street. The area seems to be popular with art dealers, and I made some mental notes for when I am rich and famous.

On Dundas Street.

The gallery itself turned out to be a commercial venture as well. In it's small, quiet interior people were working busily on their computers, surrounded by works of modern art. Some pictures had red stickers on the name tags to indicate they have been sold. I got a glance or two.

Inside the Scottish Gallery.

I was the only visitor, and hesitated for a second, but then decided not to give in to the paranoia. I hung up my coat and scarf (at last reasonable people who provide a jacket hanger at the door), put down my umbrella, and inquired politely if it was ok to take photographs. We exchanged lukewarm smiles, I have been acknowledged. I could commence my vieving.

Winter fields.

I know someone who would like this one - it's called 'Remembering the Grand Canal'. She got the colour of the water spot on.

Most of the upper floor was dedicated to the work of Alexandra Knubley. I have never seen a technique like hers before, a combination of oil paints and beeswax which allows her to draw dramatic lines through the very fabric of the painting. Some of the paitings were much to harsh for me, painting architecture with this technique makes it too unintelligible for me. What it is wonderful at, though, I thought, was depicting forests. I am aware that I am biased. Yes, there is no view as beautiful in my eyes as a sunlit forest floor. These particular paitings made me gaze and smile, and feel relaxed, and at home. And they were genuinely beautiful.

My favourite two.

The lower floor hosted a variety of art objects, from beautiful to adorable to just really bizzare. I loved the Japanese vase, and was not surprised to see the 'do not touch' sign near it, it was utterly strokeable, and hypnotising in the precision with which it was made, hard to believe it was sculpted with human hands.

A Japanese vase at the Scottish Gallery.

There was a fair bit of jewellery as well, and I was quite touched with these fragile, laborious and very disposable paper creations.

Paper jewellery.

And there was a lot of purely bizzare stuff as well, such as the 'The shooting of Jeasus', or a distrubing pile of pottery called 'How we live in the suburbs'. You don't want to know what they cost.

The shooting of Jesus (I'm not kidding).

How we live in the suburbs. Apparently.

A golden finger sticking out of the wall, a porcelain fig leaf with earrings, head-shaped mugs, you know, the usual array of decontextualised weirdness. There were also quite a few objects resembling pieces of ultra-new or degrading machinery and materials. If I had a catalogue, it would probably be saying something like 'The artist was inspired by the lethal clenliness of industrially produced stainless steel elements to anesthetic machines' or 'The artist seeked to recreate the sense of loss we feel when faced with material decay'. And I understand those ispirations, I really do, I have often spent minutes staring into a pattern of rust, or even worn stainless steel pieces as jewellery. What I can't understand is why go to such lengths and such expense to try and re-create something which is already given to us by the endless creativity of the world, why not just re-contextualise it, rather than seeking to reproduce it in those half-baked creationgs which try to make dried kethup look like rust, and demand three thousand pounds for a ring of blue metal. Yes, I am such a conservatist, but it seems like a waste of time.

On a lighter note, a photo of an original comic strip, also for sale at the Scottish Gallery. Ah, we've all been there, and remember it with disgust.