Gwen John – Strange Beauties at Modern 2

When I’m visiting Manchester City Art Gallery I tend to seek out some favourite works, one of which is a small painting of a young woman dressed in blue reading a letter. A simple portrayal but it always attracts my attention with its fine draughtsmanship, subdued, pastel colours, its weathered, almost washed out look, and the quiet, contemplative pose of the model, who seems to be completely absorbed by the letter, giving it all her attention, unaware that she is being observed. It’s by the Welsh painter Gwen John, one of two of her works in the Manchester collection. A few weeks ago when I was in Manchester city centre and popped into the Gallery I couldn’t find it or the other painting by the artist. I assumed they had been put into storage. But I was wrong.

When I was in Edinburgh last Tuesday, after my walk up Arthur’s Seat I made my way across the city centre to Modern Two, one of the two galleries focusing on Modern and Contemporary Art, both in grand 19th Century Buildings close to Dean Village. Modern 1 holds the permanent collection while Modern 2 shows temporary exhibitions, the current one being a major retrospective of the work of Gwen John, Gwen John: Strange Beauties.  The exhibition has gathered together works from galleries and private collections so, not surprisingly, both the Manchester portraits were on display.

As she was a Welsh artist, the National Museum in Cardiff has a good selection of her works, which I saw during a visit in 2012. Not surprisingly many of them were included in the Edinburgh exhibition.

A quick word about the gallery building. It used to be the Dean Orphanage, the site of an orphans’ home until the 1990s. The building features in popular literature, in particular in The Lewis Man, the second book of the Lewis trilogy by Peter May.

Gwen John was born in Haverfordwest, Pembrokeshire, South West Wales. One of her siblings was Augustus John, also an artist who I first heard off as the pub on the campus at the University of Liverpool is named after him (I had a few pints there when I was a student). Her mother died in 1884, when she was only 8 years old, a traumatic experience which is likely to have a major impact on her. The family moved to Tenby where she seems to have had a happy childhood despite the tragic loss.

She studied at the Slade School of Art, between 1895 and1898, and then moved to Paris, where she mingled with artists and became a model and lover of the sculptor Rodin. She moved to Meudon, a suburb of Paris. At the end of the affair with Rodin she withdrew into herself and eventually converted to Catholicism, which became a major influence on her work considering herself to be “God’s little artist”.

Her most well known paintings are of women, often seated and clasping their hands in front of them, and modest, domestic interiors. She is also noted for her pictures of cats and portraits of nuns. Her models were usually friends that she knew well, although the identities of most of her models are unknown. The model in the Manchester blue girl picture is a ‘Meudon neighbour’, who sat for her more than 60 times. The subjects of her paintings reflected her solitary lifestyle in Meudon. However, the exhibition showed other, less well known aspects of her work.

So, back to the Manchester painting of the girl in blue. Here it is.

The Letter (c 1920)

It was hung on a wall along with five other versions of the same model, in the same blue dress, sat in the same chair, with the same posture reading the same letter (or, sometimes, a book), but with some relatively slight differences. I’d seen another one of these pictures, known as the Convalescent at the Fitzwilliam Gallery in Cambridge.

The Convalescent (c 1920)

In fact there are eleven versions of this “convalescent”, illustrating a particular aspect of Johns’ work – painting multiple variants of a subject, or composition, something that suggests an obsessive nature, to say the least.

Here’s the same girl in the same dress. A slightly different pose and no letter or book

Girl in the Blue Dress (c1915)

Oh, and here she is again, this time holding a cat – felines being another obsession, both in real life and in her paintings.

Young Woman Holding a Black Cat (1920)

Here are a few favourites from the exhibition illustrating the different aspects of her works (I haven’t included any of her numerous portraits of nuns. I’m sorry, but they give me the creeps.)

 Chloë Boughton Leigh (c 1912)

Girl with Bare Shoulders (1910) and Nude Girl (c1910)

La Petite Modele (c1920)

Girl in Profile (c1920)

The Japanese Doll (c1920)

A charcoal drawing of a Breton Girl from c1918

Woman by a Window (c1931) – one of her last paintings

And some little water colours from church congregations

Girl in Church (c1931)

Girl Seated in Church (c1931)

These are just a small selection from a very comprehensive collection of works.

Where does she fit in the world of art? After all we do like to categorise and pigeonhole, don’t we?. Her work is figurative but their are elements of abstraction too. For me she was clearly influenced by the Impressionists. Some of her portraits have similarities to theirs. The Girl in Profile particularly reminds me of a Renoir portrait (I can’t quite recall which one off hand, though). But she has moved beyond them, although not as radically as the likes of Paul Cézanne, for example. Some experts, who know much more about these things than I do, have suggested similarities with Whistler in her use of colour, which she may have picked up when she studied with him for a while in Paris. 

It’s an excellent exhibition and I’m glad I made the effort to walk across Edinburgh to see it. For many years she was in the shadow of her brother, Augustus, but who’s heard of him now? (Well plenty of students in Liverpool know his name, but if they were like me when I studied there, wouldn’t have a clue about what he did). I think she was far the better artist.

(P.S. Hopefully that picture will be back in Manchester soon 😂)

A walk up a Volcano

(Well, the remains of a dead one)

I remember well the first time I visited Edinburgh. It was way back in the 1980’s. I was attending a professional conference that was taking place in Edinburgh University premises and delegates were accommodated in student halls of residence while the students were on their Easter holidays. The campus was close to Holyrood Park and I couldn’t miss the crags and rocky hill towering above the site – Arthur’s Seat (Suidhe Artair) and Salisbury Crags. Well J always says that when I see a hill I want to climb it and, of course I was sorely tempted. However, as I had to sit through the conference lectures and seminars, and in any case didn’t have appropriate footwear and clothing with me, that wasn’t possible. I’ve been to Edinburgh many times since then. Quite often with work but also on short break holidays, but I still never climbed it – until yesterday that is.

I managed to buy a reasonably priced Advance ticket for the train to Edinburgh, a journey of less than three hours direct from Wigan North Western on the West Coast Mainline (J says that’s the best thing about Wigan – it’s easy to get out of!). I caught an early train out and the last direct one back so I had a decent amount of time for a walk up Arthur’s Seat and to do a few other things too. The weather wasn’t as good as promised by the Met Office beig rather gloomy, overcast with rain threatening and a strong wind blasting me once I started the climb.

Arriving at Waverley Station just before 10:30, I set off towards the Royal Mile and then on to Holyrood Park. There’s a number of possible routes but I took what seemed to be the most popular one taking the fairly gradual path up from near St Margaret’s Loch. There was a constant stream of tourists going the same way (and some coming back down the path).

Like Castle rock and Carlton Hill, Arthur’s Seat and the nearby Salisbury Crags are the remains of an extinct volcano, eroded by glaciers during the Ice Ages. The 18th century, geologist James Hutton studied the rocks at Salisbury Crags, contributing to the development of his theory of “deep time“. People lived up here in the past during both the Bronze and Iron Ages and perhaps before.

Although it’s only 822 ft it’s a proper little rugged mountain.  Robert Louis Stevenson described it as “a hill for magnitude, a mountain in virtue of its bold design“.

My route was relatively easy going at first along a well made, and well trodden rough path,

Looking back during the climb

but becomes more rough and rocky towards the summit and some minor scrambling was required. Nothing particularly difficult if you have the right footwear (although given the heavy traffic of tourists who climb the hill the rocks were rather polished in places) but made more difficult by a wind which was becoming stronger the higher I climbed and with strong gusts at times it was difficult to keep upright at times on the crowded summit.

Despite the intermitently dark skies, there were great views from the top, and looking back on the way up, over the city, the Firth of Forth and beyond.

I made my way carefully down the rocky summit and joined the path that crossed the col before climbing a minor summit and then descending down via a long, steep staircase. The wind, blowing from the west was hitting me dead on but I managed to take some photo of the views over the city and back to the main summit.

Looking over Salisbury Crags

Looking towards the main summit

Starting the descent

At the bottom of the “staircase” I started to climb again, this time up over Salisbury Crags.

Looking back towards Arthur’s Seat as I climbed up Salisbury Crags.

After shirting the side of the hill for a while, I climbed higher up to the top of the ridge (more battering from the western wind!) to enjoy the views over the city

Zooming in towards the Castle

After carrying along the ridge I descended back down to my starting point. It had taken me about 40 years, but I’d finally made it and down the hill

I walked along the road under the majestic crags for a while. The sun was in the wrong place for a good shot of the rocky ridge, now high above me.

Time to move on, there were other things I wanted to see and do.

For a flyover video, click here

A flock of Sheepfolds

Last September we had a short break in Edinburgh. One of the reasons was to visit the retrospective exhibition of the work of Andy Goldsworthy. He worked as a teenager on farms in Yorkshire, where he “developed a passion for working with the land“, forming the basis for his practice. He’s prolific practitioner of land art, creating works using natural materials, including many site-specific sculptures. One of his interests, perhaps better described as a passion, is sheepfolds. I think the first of these that I came across are at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park but he has created many more, particularly in Cumbria as in 1996 hey was commissioned by Cumbria County Council to celebrate this “perfect republic of shepherds” with a countywide sculpture project called ‘Sheepfolds’ as part of the UK Year of the Visual Arts. Over the years I’ve seen several of these drystone enclosures, often seeking them out when I know there’s one in an area I’m visiting (the Sheepfolds Project and the Environmental Artworks and Sculpture Trails in Britain websites are good resources, J has a book about them (probably out of print) and there’s a chapter about them in The Stream Invites Us to Follow: A Book about the River Eden by Dick Capel). Sometimes I stumble across one, like the first time I climbed up beside Cautley Spout and passed the Red Gill Washfold on the way on to the Calf, and sometimes I read a blog that inspires me to get out and find one (or more!), and that was the reason behind my walk this Tuesday .

For a while now I’ve been meaning to go to see a collection of Goldsworthy’s folds along a green lane near Casterton, a small village close to Kirkby Lonsdale, where sixteen small folds – the Casterton Fellfoot Drove Folds – are situated at intervals along an old Drovers route approximately 2 miles long. Mark, of Beating the Bounds has written about them several times and then a couple of weeks ago Bowland Climber had written up a walk with some friends to see them and this, along with seeing the Red Gill Washfold on my walk last Saturday, I decided I needed to stop faffing about and get over to see them before the weather turned. BC had also included a very useful map which helped me to locate them all during my walk – some of them aren’t quite so easy to find.

Tuesday looked like it was going to be the last fine day for a while and as I was free of nursemaiding duties for the day I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to get out. After my marathon walk around the Howgills the previous Saturday I didn’t want to stretch myself too much so I devised a lower level route that would allow me to visit the folds and also explore an area I’ve only ever zoomed past in the car.

I parked up near the Devil’s Bridge on the edge of Kirkby Lonsdale and set out, peering over the parapet as I crossed over. The water level was very low, not surprisingly given the lack of rain over the past few months.

I crossed over the A683 and made my way across a caravan site then along a lane to the hamlet of High Casterton.

After proceeding along a narrow minor road, paths through fields and a narrow lane

I reached Fellfoot Lane, a walled, former drovers road that, surprise, surprise, runs across the foot of the fells for a couple of miles.

I soon came across the first of the folds (Number 16 on BC’s map, but, then, I do try to be contrary!) Some of the subsequent ones, behind walls or hidden by vegetation, were not so visible and the map proved invaluable in locating them. There was a clue, though as Goldsworthy had included stiles built into the walls along the lane to allow access. Even so, these weren’t always easy to spot.

For the Cumbrian Sheepfolds project Goldsworthy worked with existing folds in various states of disrepair or in some cases folds which had disappeared altogether but were clearly indicated on old maps. For the Fellfoot folds, the Environmental Artworks and Sculpture Trails in Britain website tells us that:

each fold is positioned where an old fold once stood (or in one case an old farmers hut), and now contain a large erratic taken from the hillside above. Proposed in 1995, the work was complete in 1996. Andy mentions in the book Enclosure, “My hope is that in time people will go on a walk specifically to find the stones”.

Well, that was exactly what I was doing (and others, including BC and Mark)

I took rather a lot of photos of the sheepfolds, so rather than include them in the post individually I’ve created a gallery of some of the better shots in Flickr and you should be able to click through them.

Inevitably Land Art works are ephemeral and the artists accept this. It’s true of Goldsworthy’s sheepfolds, even though this happens over a prolonged timescale. They become part of the landscape, immersed (sometimes hidden) by vegetation, covered by moss and lichen, eroded by the weather and even damaged by animals and (sadly) humans. Consequently they look different now than when they were first built and will continue to change over time.

I didn’t see many people at all during my walk (plenty of sheep and some cattle, mind). Towards the end of Fellfoot Lane, though I noticed three other walkers peering over the wall to look at one of the folds. We naturally engaged in conversation. One of them commented that the boulder in the middle of the fold must have been brought in from elsewhere as the rock was different to that the local limestone.

He was right, in a way, as they were glacial erratics, rocks carried from elsewhere by glaciers which were deposited on the local landscape when the ice melted thousands of years ago and collected by Goldsworthy when constructing the folds.

At the end of Fellfoot Lane I emerged on to a narrow metaled road that traversed the bottom of the fellside.

Looking across the fields I could see a farmhouse

and the rather grand neo-Jacobean Whelprigg House down a private lane.

I carried along the road and reaching the junction with the Barbondale road turned left towards Barbon village. J always tells me that when I see a hill I want to climb it. That’s true, so I was tempted to turn right and make my way back to Kirkby Lonsdale via the hill. However, only a few days after my long, tough (for an owd fella) walk in Sedbergh I decided against it, but intend to return another day.

There was another grand house up on the hillside which made me wonder if I’d somehow ended up in the French countryside. This was Barbon Manor a French Renaissance style building from 1862-3.

Barbon is a very pleasant. small village, with a rather grand church. That’s some tower!

You need to have a few bob to live in the small villages around here and the presence of such a large, impressive church, built towards the very end of the 19th Century demonstrates that was true back in the Victorian and Edwardian periods.

I left the village taking a path across the fields,

with good views across to the fells.

The gate for a large field I had to cross, had a warning about a bull. I crossed it nervously, but although I could see a herd of cattle I didn’t have to get too close to them.

There was Whelprigg House again

and the farm I’d seen after I’d left Fellfoot Lane.

I went through more fields and past more farm houses

before joining a minor road that took me into the main part of Casterton. It’s another small village with a church and best known for its school which is now the prep school for Sedbergh School. It’s roots were the Cowan Bridge School which the Bronte sisters attended and was responsible for the deaths of the two older sisters of the well known trio. It relocated to Casterton in the 1830s where it continued as an independent school until it merged with the Sedbergh school in 2013.

Casterton church is a Victorian building modelled in the Early English Gothic style

It wasn’t too far back to Kirkby Lonsdale now down quiet lanes, avoiding the main road, partly retracing my steps from the morning. Another good walk – a combination of art with some exercise!

Return to a Calf, a sheepfold and a waterfall

Last Saturday I had a day off from nursemaiding duties, handing the baton to my son. It was a fine day so it was a good opportunity to get out and chill out in the countryside. The recent walk with the Ramblers, and the visits for the recce, had left me looking longingly at the Howgill Fells, so I packed my walking gear into the boot of the car and headed up the M6 to Sedbergh. In a fit of madness I decided to repeat a long walk I did up there back in 2019, with some modifications that reduced the length of the walk a little. It was still a long one with some steep climbing. Getting on to the top of the hills always involves some steep climbing but this route was even tougher than most with a long, almost vertical climb beside the Cautley Spout Waterfall.

It looks frightening in the profile of the route above. The height and slope is exaggerated, of course, but it was a tough climb for an owd fella!

The start of the walk was much easier, though. Last time I started off following the path alongside the River Rawthey, but I’d been along that a few times so decided on a change, taking paths through the fields at the foot of the fells.

After a short stroll along the road from the centre of the village I turned off along a path passing the remains of Castlehaw, a Norman Motte and Bailey castle. A Scheduled monument, as you’d probably expect.

Despite regular visits to Sedbergh for about 10 years, I’ve never explored the site. No time for that this time either, as I had a long walk ahead of me. One more thing added to my “must do” list.

After a long hot, almost rainless summer, the ground was dry underfoot, making walking easy and pleasant. I passed a number of old and interesting farm buildings

and there were very good views of three of the lower hills – Crook, Sickers Fell and Knott.

and the fields and fells on the other side of the valley.

After about a couple of miles I left the fields to join the route from my 2019 walk; a track above the river and on the side of the fells that would take me to Cautley. The light was excellent and the views from the path walking along the lower slopes of the fells were outstanding.

Approaching the waterfall with the impressive cliffs of Cautley Crags to the left

Along the path to Cautley I passed a small group of walkers heading the same way and, given the time of year, I encountered four groups of youths on their DoE expedition coming from the opposite direction. They’re easy to spot with their oversized rucksacks and, in some case, resigned looks on their faces. But is was relatively quiet on the route. However, reaching Cautley I started to see a lot more people. I surmised that they’d parked up on the road and were coming across to look at the waterfall. There many more than when I was here a back in 2019. There’s a lot happened since then, of course. Since the pandemic more and more people have been coming out into the British countryside, which is a mixed blessing. I also think that Cautley Spout has become better known through guidebooks and the Internet, so it’s becoming something of a “honeypot”. Having said that, it wasn’t that busy. I probably saw fewer than 100 people over an hour or so.

Cautley Spout waterfall has the highest drop in England, at least for a cascading waterfall above ground, the water plunging over the top of the fells falling a total of 650 feet (198 m)  down a series of steps to the valley floor below. Even though there hasn’t been much rain it still looked impressive even though the volume of water flowing over the falls was probably much lower than normal and certainly much less than in the winter or after heavy rainfall.

I stopped for a while to admire the view but mainly to refuel as my blood sugar had dropped and I needed a boost before I attempted the very steep climb up the path beside the cascades.

It was certainly hard work and taking photographs was a good excuse for a rest. I also stopped just over half way up to talk to a family from Essex.

Looking back down to the valley from the path beside the waterfall

At the top of the fall there are two becks that come together before the water plunges over the spout. The last time I was here I took the path along the main, left hand stream to continue up the hillside (along a more gradual gradient). This time I had in mind to try following the right hand stream and then approach the Calf from the north, but the path soon petered out, so I made my way over rough ground and heather to the main path, descending onto it just before Red Gill Washfold, a large restored washfold with a built-in cairn to celebrate sheep farming renewal – one of a series in Cumbria created by the renowned artist, Andy Goldsworthy.

After another, brief, stop, I carried on along the path beside the beck, gradually ascending to the Bridleway that runs along the top of the main ridge of the Howgill fells. Once there I was greeted with a view of the Lakeland fells spread across the horizon to the west.

I could have turned left now and started to make my way back to Sedburgh, but instead decided to to right as it was just a short climb to the top of The Calf, the highest point on the Howgill range. It’s hard to resist when you’re almost there.

From the summit I looked across the fells to the north, territory I haven’t explored. I must put that right sometime.

There were a few people at the summit – a family of three and a single woman. I ended up speaking to them later during my walk as we were all going to make our way southwards and on to Sedburgh. Unlike at Cautley, as normal, I encountered very few people while I was up on the top of the ridge – I counted just 7 walkers and 2 runners, although there were a few I could see in the distance too, but not many. It’s hard work getting to the top of these steep sided hills and not many day tripper tourists would attempt it. (I sometimes wonder how many years it will be before it is too much for me).

Setting off for the return to Sedbergh I took a break before the steep descent down Calders. The solo lady I’d seen on the Calf came past and stopped for a chat. Most walkers are like that, we like to chat, swapping stories, experience and advice (a certain Mr Wainwright well known for being a notable exception to this). She was local and although having lived in Sedbergh for many years she had only recently started walking on the fells.

After descending Calders (my knees were now starting to suffer a little, even though I was using my walking poles) I climbed up the other side of the col and then decided to take the path to the top of Arant Haw. It’s an easy, gradual gradient on this side of the summit, and the views from the top are superb on a good day.

Looking east with the Yorkshire Three Peaks all visible

Looking westwards toward the Lake District Mountains

The family of three, who’d passed me while I was talking to the lone walker from Sedbergh on Calders, were there admiring the views. I stopped to chat and then made my way down the steep path down the north side of the hill which was getting it’s own back on me after an easy climb up to the summit from the other side.

It was downhill all the way from here.

“Hold to this Earth” at the YSP

We stayed overnight in a rental cottage in West Bretton which meant we could walk over to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park on the second day of our short break. We could also arrive just after it opened and stay until closing time (we actually left a little earlier than that as we were, inevitably, “arted out”). Even with a full day on the park it’s still impossible to see everything as there’s a lot of content in the indoor spaces and spread across the extensive grounds of the Country Park – unless you rushed around without taking a break.

We booked online before we left the cottage making our way to the YSP foot via the village and entered the park through the Park Lane entrance rather than driving in through the main entrance.

The latest exhibition in the Underground Gallery and grounds, Hold to This Earth: Works by Contemporary Indigenous North American Artists from Tia Collection, had opened in June, and was our main reason for the visit. It’s a group exhibition by 38 Indigenous North American artists displayed in the Underground Gallery and nearby grounds, with a wide range of works of sculpture (of course, it is a sculpture park after all), but also includes works in other media including film and photography.

Themes running through the exhibition include the deep, bodily connection to materials and familial, especially matrilineal, traditions of making. Works consider land as a holder of memory, ongoing struggles around land rights and sovereignty, and the enduring legacies of colonialism. They also explore place-based considerations of identity and Indigenous futurisms. These richly layered works pulse with colour, texture and pattern, creating dynamic, multi-dimensional expressions grounded in a powerful material presence.

YSP Press release

The Tia Collection

is a global art collection dedicated to supporting artists and institutions through acquisitions and loans. Founded in 2007, the collection spans the 18th century to today, features more than 1,500 artists and facilitates around 100 loans annually to museums worldwide. Through partnerships, commissions, exhibitions and publications, Tia Collection fosters dialogue, stewardship and scholarship of art.

The Collection began with, and has maintained, a devoted focus on Indigenous practices, and has evolved into a dynamic platform where modern, contemporary, and broader artistic traditions meaningfully intersect.

Not surprisingly, perhaps, many of the works on display are influenced, and represent, the historic and ongoing protests and resistance of the indigenous population of North America, including calls for the protection of sacred sites and return of historic artefacts and bodies from museums and other institutions.

We arrived before the Underground Gallery had opened its doors so started by exploring the works outdoors.

Trade Canoe: King of the Mountain (2025) by Jaune Quick-to-See Smith
This work honours the rare white bison known as Big Medicine that held great symbolic significance for Smith’s community, but his remains were confiscated for taxidermy and display by the US government. The Salish and Kootenai Tribes of the Flathead Valley fought for years for his return, underscoring enduring struggles over cultural stewardship.

The Guardians (2024) by Raven Halfmoon

The Guardians (2024) by Raven Halfmoon.
This  9 feet tall bronze sculpture shows two women standing back to back with their hands over their hearts and is meant to be a tribute to strength, resilience, and ancestral power. 

Bear’s Tipi (2025) by Hock E Aye Vi Edgar Heap of Birds
This workhonours eight Tribal Nations for whom the extraordinary titular magma monolith is held sacred. Featuring their names – Cheyenne, Kiowa, Lakota, Arikara, Hidatsa, Mandan, Crow and Arapaho – the work takes the form of eight street signs arranged in a circle, asserting presence and Indigenous Sovereignty within the landscape and calling for the protection of natural monuments that are being desecrated.

Water Carrier (1986) by Allan Houser (It looks like he was influenced by Barbara Hepworth)

Entering the Underground Gallery the first thing we saw was this large work in the lobby – Kéyah Yinílniih (The Land Remembers) by Dakota Mace.

My first impression that this was a painting of the Universe. Closer inspection of the information panel about the work told us that it’s actually a cyanotype print that the artist made at YSP using natural dyes, along with clay and wool from the UK and earth from Mace’s home of Teejop.

As usual for YSP exhibitions there were a large number of works inside the gallery. I’ve included just some of them in the following photos.

Tonantzin (2021) by Rose B. Simpson. A ceramic figure named after a pre-Columbian Aztec mother goddess 

Tonantzin, (2021) by Rose B Simpson
A mother goddess showing the importance of matrilineal knowledge in her native Santa Clara Pueblo

Ancestral Map of Return (2023) by Nicholas Galanina. A “star map” painted on deer hide, each star representing the remains of Indigenous individuals held in institutional collections. The artist is an advocate for the return to their communities of artefacts and bodies taken and held in museums and other institutions – an issue relevant to many indigenous peoples

Costumes worn by characters in an opera “Sweet Land” that explores colonialism and mythological histories

Exist in the wind of a Knife’s edge (2013) by Nicholas Galanin
ceramic daggers (replicas of weapons used for close combat)

On Loving (2022 – 2023) by Maggie Thompson – textile works on the plinth
Headlands (2017) and Infinite (2023) by Teresa Baker – two hangings made using astroturf and other materials including buckskin, bark and yarn, on the wall

Like a Hammer (2016) by Jeffrey Gibson
A costume and props from a mixed media performative installation. The performance showing in a video.

Tent Metaphor Standing Rock (2017) by Yatika Starr Fields. This work uses tents recovered from the high-profile demonstrations to resist the Dakota Access Pipeline that threatened the water supply and sacred sites of the Standing Rock Sioux.

Making Herself (2000) by Roxanne Swentzell

Ronan Robe #4 (1977) by Jaune Quick-to-See Smith

The above are just a selection of the works on display. We spent about an hour in the gallery and then returned towards the end of the afternoon to take another look. It’s another excellent with a lot of works – some that I inevitably liked more than others – from artists who, in the main, are unknown in the UK. Many of the exhibits certainly posed questions that make you reflect on the issues facing modern indigenous people, not just in America but in other countries subject to colonial conquest. We found many similarities with the themes from the art we’ve seen from indigenous artists in Australia and also from The Beginning of Knowledge the exhibition by the self taught indigenous Peruvian artist Santiago Yahuarcani at the Whitworth.

We spent the rest of the day looking round the park, visiting the latest exhibition in the Chapel and having a bite to eat at the Weston Gallery, where we also re-visited the exhibition by L R Vandy. So there’s more to write up.

The Hepworth Wakefield Garden

In my last post I mentioned that one new feature of the Hepworth Gallery in Wakefield is their sculpture garden which was created by landscape architect Tom Stuart-Smith. Unlike the indoor galleries, access is free of charge. A wonderful space. I thought it deserved its own post.

It was a rather overcast day, with some short periods of sunshine, so not so great for taking photographs, so my snapshots don’t do full justice to the trees, shrubs, grasses and plants.

The garden has winding paths between the flower beds, lawns and benches to sit on. In beds, amongst the plants there are a number of sculptures for visitors to enjoy. It’s a lovely, relaxing space, despite the proximity to the main road. A good resource for visitors to the Gallery, people working in the town centre and Wakefield residents.

Ascending Form (Gloria), 1958, by Barbara Hepworth

Day, 1966 by Kim Lim

Fan Construction, 2023 by Halima Cassell

Pitchfork (Yellow), 2013 by Sir Michael Craig-Martin

Return to the Hepworth

It’s grey and drizzly outside; time to catch up on the blog.

As a new exhibition had recently opened at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park, it was time to arrange to derive over the M62 for a look. Planning the trip, we realised that it was a long time (several years) since we’d been to the Hepworth Gallery at Wakefield, so a visit was well overdue. Two trips over the Pennines via the awful M62 definitely didn’t appeal, but these days there’s fewer constraints on my time than when I was working, so we decided that a better option would be to stay over for a short break and visit them both while there was a lull in the heatwave. I found a cottage in West Bretton, a short walk from the YSP. The price for a couple of nights was reasonable, so with a few clicks on the iPad it was booked and, a few days later, a couple of weeks ago, we were off for a short break. We didn’t expect that it would end with a different type of break, though.

First on the list was the Hepworth. For several years after it opened on 21 May 2011 we were regular visitors. However, the last time we were there was before the Covid epidemic, so 6 years ago. There’s been a few changes since the. In particular it used to be free to visit but now they charge a fairly hefty fee of £13 . Entry for Wakefield District residents and under 18s is free, however, so I guess occasional visitors from elsewhere are subsidising the locals, which is probably fair enough. It’s free for Members of the gallery too, so if you plan to make more than 3 visits per year, that would be a sensible option as it costs £38. The other major change is that they’ve created a garden where there used to be a lawn between the gallery and the former mill buildings.

The drive over the M62 was as good as it ever gets – i.e. heavy traffic, a queue after Milnrow due to an accident and then stop start traffic for most of the rest of the way to the M1. We parked up in the car park over the road from the Gallery and made our way over the bridge, passing three members of the Family of Man beside the river.

We paid our dues and then, as it was midday by now, had a bit to eat in the cafe before looking around the exhibitions.

There were plenty of children and parents milling around; there were a number of family activities taking place, which is good to see. The Gallery building includes spaces for such activities, and they have family workshops and other events organised throughout the summer holidays.

We made our way up the stairs towards the exhibition spaces. The first three galleries were showing works from the Hepworth’s collection.

In Gallery 1 A Living Collection 

continues to showcase art works that have been donated or fundraised for to keep Wakefield’s art collection ‘a living collection’ for future generations to enjoy …….(including) …. works that have joined the collection in the last 18 months and displayed for the first time since their acquisition.

I was pleased to see a couple of drawings by Joseph Herman, Three Seated Miners (1954) and Three Miners (undated), displayed near a ceramic by Nehemia Azaz.

Herman was a a Polish painter a Jewish refugee who arrived in Britain in 1940 to escape from Nazi persecution. He’s best known for his paintings of workers, especially the coal miners he drew and painted when he lived in Ystradgynlais, a mining community in South Wales. I’ve been interested in his work for a while but don’t recall seeing ay on display before. Henry Moore also created drawings of miners during his time as a war artist, and the Hepworth have some of these works in their collection

In Gallery 2 Modern Art and Modern Life: Highlights from Wakefield’s 20th Century Collection 

will chart a compelling narrative of British modernism shaped by shifting cultural contexts and personal visions.

It will highlight key works in Wakefield’s collection by artists including Hans Coper, Barbara Hepworth, Naum Gabo, Keith Vaughan, Ben Nicholson, Ronald Moody, Henry Moore, Roland Penrose and Eileen Agar.

Two Forms (1937) by Barbara Hepworth

79-B (1979) a woodcut by Reika Iwami

In Gallery 3, one of the larger spaces Rhythm, Dance and Everything: The Body and Performance from Hepworth to Now included some works by Hepworth amongst works by Sarah Lucas, Phyllida Barlow, Hans Arp and others, most of whom I wasn’t familiar with.

Torso (1931) by Hans Arp

Galleries 4 (Hepworth at Work) and 5 (The Hepworth Family Gift) hadn’t changed much, if at all since our last visit.

The full scale model of Winged Figure – the work displayed on the side of John Lewis’ store on Oxford Street London – on the wall in Gallery 5 still impresses

The main exhibition, shown in galleries 6 to 9 was Mrinalini Mukherjee: Unbound Forms – Women Sculptors of India and Bangladesh, an extensive retrospective of the work of this Indian artist (1949–2015) displayed together with works by women artists from the early generation of modern Indian and Bangladeshi sculpture – the artist’s mother, Leela Mukherjee (1916 – 2002), Meera Mukherjee (1923 – 1998 – no relation to Leela an Mrinalini), Novera Ahmed (1939 – 2015) and Pilloo Pochkhanawala (1923 – 1986).

I hadn’t heard of any of these artists and the Hepworth should be applauded for introducing their work to a wider audience. There were some marvellous sculptures in this exhibition, some made using traditional techniques but others demonstrating innovative methodology.

Although Mrinalini Mukherjee created ceramic and bronze sculptures, drawings, etchings and watercolours, she is particularly known for her use of dyed and woven hemp fibre knotting, twisting and folding the materials to form intricate, large scale anthropomorphic, semi-abstract mythical figures and botanical forms.

Ritu Raja (1977) by Mrinalini Mukherjee

Naag (Snake) (1986) by Mrinalini Mukherjee

Here are some shots of works by the other artists. The influence of Barbara Hepworth, Henry Moore, Hans Arp and other Modernists is clearly visible. But these are not second rate immitations.

Four large sculptures by by Novera Ahmed

Skyscape (1974) by Pilloo Pochkhanawala

Sitar Player (1976) by Meera Mukherjee

Boatmen (undated) by Meera Mukherjee

Standing Figure (1960) by Novera Ahmed

The exhibition is on until November and is well worth visiting if you’re a fan of Modernist sculpture.

A local walk – Station to station

Planning a local walk, I fancied something different than my usual routes in the Plantations or along the canal, so took the train to Appley Bridge for a station to station walk to Gathurst via Ashurst’s Beacon.

I caught the Southport train from Wigan Wallgate, alighting at Appley Bridge, just a few miles down the line. The walk took me along the canal before climbing up to Ashurst’s Beacon (in the opposite direction to my usual walk up this hill), and then through fields and along quiet lanes to Gathurst station, the stop before Appley Bridge when travelling from Wigan.

Leaving the station, a short walk took me to the Leeds Liverpool canal

Approaching the double lock to the west of Appley Bridge. Only the southern branch is still operational.

Looking up to Ashurst’s Beacon from the canal towpath

I left the canal at this bridge.

Heading up to the top of the hill took me along quiet country lanes – muddy in winter but rock hard surfaces after weeks of dry weather

Not quite completely quiet!

A view of the West Lancashire moors in the distance

The monument on the summit of the hill. The once extensive views across the Lancashire Plains towards the Cumbrian and Welsh hills are now obscured by trees.

The text on the plaque on the monument speaks for itself

I left the hill and started making my way through the fields and quiet country lanes towards Roby Mill and Gathurst

After Roby Mill the roue took me through some woodland

and then, with some difficulty, through a field overgrown with Himalayan Balsam, brambles, nettles and thistles. Perhaps I should have worn long trousers.

Passing through a meadow of wild flowers

The only people I saw during the walk were a handful of other walkers and a cyclist. The latter stopped for a chat.

Entering the steep sided wooded valley of Dean Wood near Gathurst

At the bottom of the valley close to the river, it would be very muddy during the winter or even just after some rain – there was even some mud here after all the dry weather we’ve been having.

I had to go under the M6 and then a short distance afterwards reached Gathurst station. I had a short wait for the train back to Wigan.

Not a bad route, although I noted a few sections to avoid if I came this way again.

Sedbergh walk with the Ramblers

Sedbergh, nesting at the foot of the Howgill fells is in Cumbria, but on Saturday there was a Yorkshire flag flying from the top of the village church tower to celebrate “Yorkshire Day”.

The reason? Well, before Local Government reorganisation Sedbergh was in the West Ryding of Yorkshire. However, it isn’t well connected to other parts of the historic county boundary – Kendal (historically part of Westmorland) is much nearer than any of the main Yorkshire towns and that’s where vital services are accessed. So, Like Dent, a few miles down the valley, it was incorporated into the newly formed county of Cumbria. Folk like to hang on to old loyalties, though, hence the flying of the white rose flag.

Last Saturday, I was in the village with Wigan Ramblers for our monthly walks. I was feeling a little nervous as, for the first time, I was going to be leading the longer of the two walks. Having become very familiar with the area during frequent visits, I’d worked out a route, based on one published by the local tourist office, and had “recced” it, with help from Ian and Sue, two other members of the group. I’d made a second visit, too, on my own a few days before as I wanted to double check a section over the lower slopes of Frostrow fells where the path is sketchy as I didn’t want to end up leading the group into a bog.

Including myself, there were 25 of us on the longer walk (another 20 chose the shorter ramble). I gave a quick briefing about the route and we set off, passing the church and taking the path through the grounds of Sedbergh school, making our way to the small, pretty hamlet of Birks. After crossing the Rawthey on the footbridge,

we took the path across the golf course, crossed the bridge over the Dee and then started our first uphill section. A short ascent (a little steep and overgrown in places) but at the top were greeted with a great view of the Howgills.

The path emerges at the minor road heading east on the north side of the River Dee. After about a mile, at Brackensgill, we joined the Dales Way. Crossing over the river and then the main road to Dent we carried on along the track along which the Dales Way makes its way towards Sedbergh

Before the hamlet of Millthrop, we turned down a path that took us across the lower slopes of the Frostrow fells, with stunning views of the Howgills, Baugh Fell and Wild Boar Fell.

Having done the extra recce just a few days before, I worked out where the path was on the ground. It bore only a little resemblance to that on the map, which would have taken us across some boggy sections. I reckon that over the years the route has changed to a slightly more elevated alternative. At one point, through, there’s a turn off that’s not so visible on the ground as is easy to miss. The more visible path carries on but then suddenly disappears. In the past I’d followed this and ended up navigating through rough, boggy ground. However no such problem this time.

Leaving the moorland, we made our way through fields

before joining the lane which took us to the Garsdale road. This isn’t a busy road but cars can come around the blind bends at speed. We had a short section to walk on the pathless section of the road so the leader (me!) and the backmarker donned high-vis jackets and the group walked in single file. We were passed by several cars but all went well.

We made our way back to the village and the beer garden of the Black Bull. Everyone seemed to have enjoyed the walk. Most of the group had never visited the area before and were impressed by the views. We were lucky with the weather. It was overcast most of the day, but the temperature was perfect for a walk and the rain forecast never arrived.

Back on the “wily, windy moors”.

Back in April I walked from Hebden Bridge to Howarth following a route in a leaflet published by Bradford Council which sets out two routes that together comprise a long circuit between the two towns. At 26 km this “Circular route – for the brave” was too long for me to even think of for a day walk, particularly as the printed route starts and finishes at Midgehole (at the Hebden Bridge end) and walking to and from the railway station would add in a few more miles. My April walk was along the shorter leg but I was keen to complete the circuit, so last Thursday I set out to do just that. The walk would take me up onto the wild moors frequented by the Brontë sisters, going past Top Withins, the site that, allegedly, inspired Emily for the setting of Wuthering Heights.

(We all know the song, but for a different version. with a bit of a twist at the start, click here)

I decided to start from Haworth. One reason was that way I would complete the circuit, but there was a practical consideration too. To get back to Hebden Bridge from Haworth I needed to catch the B3 Bronte bus, but the last bus back leaves Haworth at 20 past six, and I didn’t want to feel under pressure and forced to rush during a long moorland walk in case I missed it. So, I left home early, got the train to Hebden Bridge and then caught the Bronte bus outside the station. The bus only runs once an hour and the direct train from Wigan seems to be deliberately timed to arrive a few minutes after the bus has departed, so I had to change at Manchester Victoria. Fortunately everything went smoothly, I caught my connection which arrived on time so I had a short wait to the bus.

So far, so good. However, as I was waiting in the bus shelter I spotted a notice on the matrix sign which looked a little ominous. I had to wait for the notice to come round again and sure enough it told me that due to roadworks the B3 would not be stopping in Haworth. Bugger!!! There was a woman also waiting for the bus, so I asked here whether she was local (she was, and was getting off at Peckett Well) and she was able to shed a little information on the diverted route. It wasn’t really true that it wasn’t going through Haworth. Although it wasn’t passing through the town centre and past the train station (where intended to get off) it was skirting round the east of the town along Hebden Road. So panic over. However, the message on the matrix sign was clearly misleading to non-locals like myself. The information could have been clearer so a black mark to the Bronte Bus company!

Towards the end of the journey some other locals told me where I needed to get off. The diversion increased the distance of the walk a little but I was still able to complete my planned walk. The joys of travel by public transport! (Still, better than sitting in a traffic jam on the M62).

Anyway, arriving at Haworth, leaving the bus stop I had to descend down the steep hill, passing by the converted mill where I’d stayed last year, walking through the park and then climbing up the steep Main Street towards the church and Parsonage Museum. This part of town is usually heaving with tourists, but I was early so it was very quiet.

Before starting the walk proper I made a quick visit to the Parsonage Field to visit the Anne stone, one of the Brontë Stones, which were the focus of my short break in Haworth last year.

Off I went, back across the Parsonage field,

past the Parsonage Museum shop and Museum entrance. Past the church

and through the graveyard, passing the Parsonage

and continuing on the flagged path heading towards the moors.

I reached Penistone Country Park.

The park, on the edge of the moors, was created on the site of three sandstone quarries, that supplied materials for local houses, roads and the nearby reservoirs. Quarrying finally ceased in the late 1960s. Last year the Country Park was the site of Wild Uplands, a series of art installations as part of Bradford’s year as UK City of Culture. They’re gone now (one of the works, Muamba Posy, a series of three sculptures by the London based Brazilian artist Vanessa da Silva, has been relocated at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park) although there is a permanent sculptural work, “Literary Landscapes”, a collection of sandstone representations of books by the Irish artist Martin Heron, which I passed as I walked through the park.

I now had an extensive view over the nearby moors and could even just about make out part of Pendle Hill on the horizon.

Leaving the Country Park I passed one of the distinctive Peak and Northern Footpaths Society signposts (I’ve quite a collection of photos of them now taken during my walks)

On the track heading towards the moors I passed a done up farmhouse displaying bold signs opposing the proposed construction of a massive windfarm up on the nearby moors.

The large traditional Pennine farmhouse has been very nicely restored and done up as desirable residence for its well to do owners.

I continued along the track

and encountered another of the green signposts

I heading towards what’s known as the “Brontë Waterfall“, a spot on South Dean Beck amongst the moors that the sisters are reputed to favour. Not surprisingly, then, it’s a well used track. The sign pointed to another footpath, that was effectively invisible – swallowed up by the thick growth of bracken. I found that this was a problem up here last year, where a path I intended to take was also obscured by the thick bracken.

I continued down the track

until I reached the “Brontë Bridge” which crosses the river below the “Brontë waterfalls” where there was a small group of fellow walkers taking a break and having a brew.

It’s a pretty spot but although the water tumbles down over the rocks, there’s not much of a fall. It probably looks more dramatic when there’s been rain, but there’s not be much of that these last few months.

The signs up here are in Japanese as well as English as the legend of the Brontës attracts many Japanese tourists, apparently.

After a short break for a bite to eat I carried on along the route towards Top Withins, which was now visible in the distance.

I really was in wild and lonely countryside now. There were no “escape routes” other than going back to Haworth or carrying on to the outskirts of Hebden Bridge. This was the view looking back towards where I’d started.

I joined the route of the Pennine Way and shortly afterwards reached Top Withins.

Emily Brontë allegedly based the location of of Wuthering Heights on the moorland around the ruined farmhouse It certainly fits the description in her novel.

Wuthering Heights is the name of Mr. Heathcliff’s dwelling, “wuthering” being a significant provincial adjective, descriptive of the atmospheric tumult to which its station is exposed in stormy weather. Pure, bracing ventilation they must have up there at all times, indeed. 

It’s a lonely spot up here in the middle of the moorland, a few miles away from “civilisation”. The house, though, now in ruins, wouldn’t have borne any resemblance to the grand dwelling described in the novel.

It had been a few hours since I left home and time to have my dinner, so I took advantage of the bench overlooking the ruins for a break for a bite to eat and to enjoy the view solitude. I bet it’s not often that it’s that quiet up here as, inevitably, Top Withins is a magnet for fans of the Brontës.

There’s classic photos been taken here by two photographers whose work I admire, Bill Brandt and by Fay Godwin (see their photos of the ruin here and here). I snapped a few photos of the site but can’t aspire to their skill and artistic vision.

Reinvigorated by the rest and the carbs, I carried on along the route of the Pennine Way. I was on really desolate blanket bog now which would be more or less impassable for most of the year except for the flag stones that have been laid along the route.

Shortly after leaving Top Withins I met a female walker coming in the opposite direction. We stopped for a brief chat and she told me she had come from Hebden Bridge and was going to complete the full circuit. I wished her luck, but she was younger and a lot fitter than me. Carrying on, the route starts to descend towards a chain of three reservoirs. A couple of walkers, a man and a woman a little closer in age to me, were coming up. I didn’t see anyone else again, except for a game keeper on a quad, until I reached Hardcastle Crags.

The weather had turned grey and gloomy and there was even a threat of rain in the air.

Reaching the reservoirs I had the option of continuing along the Pennine Way for a few miles, but, instead, decided to take the path up over the moorland to the east. This was real game country as a climbed along a shooter’s track past shooting butts and huts. The owners of this extensive moorland mustn’t be making enough money from the slaughter of grouse as they’re the ones proposing to create the large windfarm up in this bleak and lonely landscape.

As I descended down the other side of the hill the landscape changed, becoming more pastoral.

and after a short walk along a minor road, I turned down the track into the woods of the National Trust’s Hardcastle Crags.

I reached Gibson Mill.

Unlike last time I was here (before Easter) the café was open, so time for a brew!

Rested and refreshed I took the riverside route

eventually emerging at Midgehole. Ever since I’ve been coming this way I’ve been wondering how this area got such a curious name. It’s down by the river and so there’s certainly plenty of midges around (although it’s not the Scottish Highlands!), so I did a bit of search on th’Interweb. The only information I could find was on the Hebden Hey Scout Centre website which lists a number of possibilities:

(it may)…have something to do with an old word meaning manure! The hollow (hole) where there was a manure dump. Or the reference may be to a boggy site. It has been said that the word simply means a wide hollow. 

I was getting close to Hebden Bridge now and was following the river. That’s not as straightforward as it might seem as the first section strayed from the river and required a steep climb up hill and then another down hill before rejoining the river bank from where I proceeded into the town centre.

As I approached the town I ran out of water. It had now turned bright, sunny and hot, so I needed some liquid for the train journey home. I had my filtering water bottle with me but decided against trying to refill it from Hebden Water, so headed through the town to the Coop where I purchased a couple of bottles of diet Coke. I don’t particularly like the stuff but, from the fridge, it’s cold, wet and contains caffeine to give me a bit of an energy boost.

I made my way along the canal to the station arriving with 5 minutes to spare before the next direct train to Wigan.

It had been a long walk – just over 13 miles (add on a couple of miles for the walk to and from Wigan train station). I’d enjoyed it and felt quite pleased with myself – as can you if you made it to the end of this rather long post.