London Fashion Week

We happened upon this today, making for Somerset House on a different mission - to see the Mondrians and Nicholsons ("In parallel") at the Courtauld Gallery. Chambers' elegant 18th Century courtyard was stuffed with marquees and thronged with people less than half my age either wearing outlandish clothes or carrying expensive cameras - often both. For once, I felt entirely unselfconscious, taking photographs of people myself. Caroline enjoyed it too, as indeed our Japanese student lodger would have, had she been with us.

What a contrast between the Courtauld exhibition's cool, controlled, abstract paintings, and so many outrageously costumed models - many thin enough to slip down the cracks between the paving stones!

"Seeing by doing"

This - Seeing by doing - was the catchphrase of Robert Lyon, in the 1930s a Master of Painting connected with Durham University. He it was who was instrumental in the formation of the Ashington Group, made up mostly of miners intent on improving their education through evening classes. One of them survives, and paints every day still: he has a current exhibition on in Newcastle.

Meeting the group's frustration at having to sit and gaze at Lyon's black and white slides of the Madonna with cherubs and its ilk, he challenged each of them at the outset to make their own attempt to create an art work. "The Pitmen Painters" tells the story in dramatic form, and a very good play it is (by Lee Hall, who also wrote the screenplay for Billy Elliot): we saw it last night at Malvern.

This photograph of the Malvern Hills was taken from Farmcote earlier in the Summer.

Spain and Swindon

Four years ago, we were on holiday in Asturias, staying with Caroline's cousin Lizzie. She drove us up into the mountains one memorable day, to the village of Villabre, which modern life seemed to have passed by. There we picked our way amongst clogs and cats and chickens, and between ancient farm buildings, and I photographed this cobwebbed window, which I have always taken to be reminiscent of a Ben Nicholson. For his birthday last week, we gave Tim a framed, blown up version: the postman brought a lovely Timmish thank you letter this morning.

After receiving which I took a train to Swindon for lunch and a walk round Coate Water with my friend Jeremy Rigden: as there was time before the train back, I visited Swindon Art Gallery, and marvelled at its collection - not numerous, but significant - of Modern British (and later) artists.

And there I saw a real Ben Nicholson, which of course bears no resemblance whatever to my photograph. (Perhaps Tim was more on the button in his letter, joking "Eat your heart out Rothko.")