Totally... we're a bit away from Charleston Farmhouse - decorated by that Bloomsbury bunch - generally really not me at all, but then some of the art there, shows what they could do (which to 'me' was better 'art' than what they did in the house).
But you can't 'know' all of someone's work - anymore than you can know a person. You judge based on what you do know and what is visible to you. I hear what Bowie releases - don't like it, so never buy an album - but I agree there may be tracks then that I missed. Ditto for Emin - she may be an amazing artist, but if there was an exhibition down here, I'd never go as I don't like what I've seen so far. Isn't that what we all do? We all then like specific brands and dislike others.. You have to filter somehow don't you?
It would be a boring old world if we all liked the same stuff and people never experimented. There is plenty of music I don't like but that isn't to say it's no good. Where I struggle more is with certain 'art' which seems to be more akin to the King's New Clothes. Nobody will ever convince me that Tracy Emin's unmade bed is art or Damien Hirst's animals in formaldehyde. If I'm not clever enough to appreciate them I'm content to continue living in my world.
Still love the Beach Boys! Funny to hear a lot of my old favourites popping up in the background on tv adverts. I remember when my son was a teenager, he was really amazed to hear me singing along, word for word, to a recent hit. I didn’t know whether or not to admit that it was a re recording of one that was around when I’d been his age.
Yesterday a large bumble bee spent a long time foraging in the winter-flowering heather. I hadn't seen one for a few months so it was a lovely foretaste of spring.
Since 2019 I've lived in east Clare, in the west of Ireland.
Ooo, let's have Spring first- a season of anticipation and awakening. I love how fresh, new growth bursts into life, how birds build nests and later bring their young into the garden, how daffodils like to nod their heads at each other all around us etc But yes, sometimes the winter is too long.
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I remember when my son was a teenager, he was really amazed to hear me singing along, word for word, to a recent hit. I didn’t know whether or not to admit that it was a re recording of one that was around when I’d been his age.
Gardening in Central Norfolk on improved gritty moraine over chalk ... free-draining.
But yes, sometimes the winter is too long.