A Wet (and very White) Weekend in Whitby

devils
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The Doomstone, York Minster.

spire
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Whitby Abbey.

shadows
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sheer drop
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No shit …

pulpit
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18th century three-decker pulpit in St Mary’s.

Stopped off at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park on the way home.

cragg 1
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Tony Cragg’s pieces from A Rare Category of Objects are almost designed to be photo­graphed rather than engaged with.

cragg 2
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See what I mean?

burger 2
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A pair of burgers from Matthew Day Jackson’s eerily abject Magni­ficent Desol­ation.

burger
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A crowd of graphite ware figures, all look the same to me, don’t shoot …

don't shoot
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… part of Zak Ové’s 80 strong crowd — Black and Blue: The Invisible Men and the Masque of Blackness.

door
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And on the way out through Jaume Plensa’s Wonderland — on the threshold of nowhere.

On the Rocks

wreck
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Asleep at the helm … a not-so-subtle Brexit reference … the wreck of the RMS Mulheim which ran aground in Gamper Bay near Lands’ End in 2003, when the chief officer tripped, fell, banged his head and passed out. She was eventually broken up and thrust into Castle Zawn where she remains.

scillies
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A partic­u­larly dull photo­graph of the Long Ships Light­house on Carn Bras off Land’s End. That is … until you look at it full size and see the Scillies on the horizon. A full 28 miles away but clear as day … never had such visib­ility here.

gull rock
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Enys Dodnan … home of the handsome, fearsome black-backed gulls.

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Slit arch at Nanjizal Cove.

waterfall
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Beautiful, filthy waterfall on to the beach.

sloes
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On the inland route back to Sennen we foraged for deliciously ripe sloes, filling our empty lunch box with future christmas cheer. The fennel vodka is already maturing … nom nom nom.

corn flowers
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Incredibly intense cornflower blue … cornflowers at the side of the path, Centaurea cyanus.
And eventually, safe back in harbour … long before sunset for once.

Old Dog

gatekeeper
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A Gatekeeper, Pyronia tithonus, a girl down from the moor.
I am gradually acquiring a very basic reper­toire of common butter­flies. So far, this year I have learned 5 new tricks. Good dog.

peacock
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Almost as numerous as the Red Admirals — the Peacock, Inachis io.
It’s not nick-named the butterfly bush for nothing … Jeez.

tortoise
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A Small Tortoise­shell, Aglais urticae and then lastly a Speckled Wood, Pararge aegeria, up from the valley.

speckled-wood
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Luxuri­ating in a beautiful echo of summer down here.

Swamped

lady

Just wandered out to get an image I needed of the sky and found the buddleja covered in butter­flies, including this beautiful Painted Lady, Vanessa cardui. I didn’t know they were migrants too. Along with the geese and the cuckoos and the robins and the starlings and the …

I’ve got a horrible feeling that if we ever did stop all freedom of movement we’d die of lonely silent hungry thirsty brain-dead BOREDOM.

Gunwalloe

flower
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I’m not sure what it is but there were lots of these beautiful little things on the cliffs above Church Cove.

nightshade
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Now that I can identify: Atropa Belladonna. I assume the berries are unripe, I’m sure they go black but the blue and red were incredibly intense.

dice
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Down at Gunwalloe Fishing Cove, an exposed seam of quartz is breaking down.

landscape
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Having dutifully applied my flying ointment (see above) I rode the air and looked down from a great height and saw … errr … or not. Scale independence.

dragon
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… found a dragon trapped inside a rock … sort of … if you tilt your head and squint a bit.

stone
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And in the graveyard of St Winwalo’s Church, the saddest of stories in a few terse lines. Life really does hang by a thread.

Sunny Safari

scarab
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One of a few Rose Chafers we saw patrolling the brambles, beautiful jewel-like scarabs (their vivid green produced struc­turally by left-circu­larly-polarised light rather than pigment, he said), Cetonia aurata, on the cliffs between Cape Cornwall and Sennen Cove.

gatekeeper
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There were clouds of butter­flies in the fields behind the cliffs but the only one who was vain enough to pose for long was a male Gatekeeper, Pyronia tithonus.

longhorns
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And a herd of magni­ficent time-slipped English Longhorns.

Cornwall Boogie Woogie

cornwall boogie
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The work I’m doing at the moment starts with a grid … well, no: it starts with an image which is then trans­lated into a grid … well, no: several independent grids … aye aye aye, whatever — I need my grid. It’s where I start.
And it’s not just a pretext — the grid has to work on its own, to dance and to tell tales, even if I’m the only one to hear them.

But this one tickled me more than most — getting better at this. Two days ago I was convinced I’d bitten off more than I could chew … and then …

I’m sure I’m a bit weird but I find this strangely rewarding and the making of it as much like a dance as I am comfortable with — so here’s my Cornwall Boogie Woogie, Piet.

Storm’s blowin’ in

storm
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Filling the sky in the south and east … can feel it coming — a heavy blast of hot humid air blowing before it. Appar­ently it’s not going to be too bad, just very wet but we’re a little exposed up here and they always makes us anxious. I suppose we could all do with the water but … and but — dribs and drabs would be so dull, damp and English
Leccy off in the studio this evening I think.

dipsacus
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Beauty and the Beast.
The dipsacus all over the farm are all doing their beauti­fully raggedy rising tide flowering at the moment.
But beware those thorns — they’re lethal.