We were up long before the crack of dawn for a day trip to Inverness, which is a long day, but, it turns out, entirely do-able. The reason for the day trip was to see an exhibition at Inverness Museum and Art Gallery, Ken Currie: The Crossing / An Turas.
We set off for the station at around quarter to six for the first train to Kirkcaldy, where we changed trains for Perth. We changed trains again at Perth, heading to Inverness. During the last leg of the outbound journey we were blessed with a 22° halo round the sun (see pics above). A magical start to the day, even if we had actually started the day a couple of hours earlier.
First stop in Inverness was the gallery, and the bottom photo in the first collage is my first view of the paintings as I entered the room. There was no-one else there, which was great because I got quite emotional. I mean not like bawlin and greetin, but there were tears. Just incredible paintings.
I took a snap of the text at the entrance (second photo). If it comes out too small ono here I will post it again tomorrow. I have to confess this was only read by me after I had spent some time with the paintings, and started telling my own stories in response. The second collage has some of the paintings, but there are more, and earlier versions of this exhibition have featured more paintings that weren’t included today.
I had such a visceral reaction to the paintings I simply didn’t want to leave them, especially the horse.
We did leave, and went for a wander along the riverside on our way to Leakey’s Bookshop, because it’s like my second home. It’s an overwhelming place, but also in a good way, and I never fail to find a book in the simply massive section on art, artists, and art history. Today’s find is on portraits.
After the bookshop we looped back to the gallery for a second visit to the paintings. This was when I dug out my sketchbook and filled a couple of pages with thoughts and reactions to the paintings, and also made a sketch of the horse. My art for today also includes some sketching on the train, but they are scribbly drawings that don’t make sense to anyone but me. The art was done, tho, and the streak maintained.
We had a bonus history talk about Vikings and Scotland, and I was quite attached to the replica Viking sword that was among the things we could handle afterwords.
Then it came time to head for the station to reverse the train journey home. I’m still processing the exhibition, and yes, I was the one going close up and squinting to try and figure out how he did, well, all of it. Paint layers and brushstrokes aside, the paintings for me are layered with so many meanings, and stories, and an uncomfortable commentary on the human condition. What we are, and what we have become, and what we are watching unfold on our phones every day. Searing.
I will probably write more the morn, as I’m falling asleep.
Til the morn,
Suzanne
614/700
Thrummie Bizzum 
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