Beautiful Singing in the City at St Ethelburga's

Happy Christmas!

filming

Oops! The timing for uploading this concert of Singing in the City Christmas Concert 2015 at St Ethelburga’s Church, Bishopsgate, London, might be a little late in the season – but, I don't see anything wrong with enjoying a little bit of Christmas in the Spring; do you?

You can see the concert on my YouTube Global Scoble channel!
Watch the video!

 Film Editing

sound recording

The editing of this beautiful concert was delayed due to some technical reasons, and also, to some personal ones, ahem – like I was making a film in Hollywood, for instance – you know how it is. But, perhaps you don't believe me? It’s true! I spent January filming in Hollywood. But, I shall tell you all about that some other time.

 

Sound Recording

I have made sound recordings of some of Singing in the City's previous concerts, but this time, they asked me if I could video it. So, on an evening last December, I took along my recording equipment and one camera; and Daniel Perkin as crew.

 

Love of Singing

Singing in the City at St Ethelburga's church

Singing in the City is a community choir of beautiful voices who sing ‘a Capella’. The choir meets regularly in the city of London to rehearse. They welcome anyone to join and there is no need to audition. Their members range from absolute beginners to the very advanced. All the requirement that is needed to join is a love of singing. The aim of the group is to foster musicianship and friendship.
 

Love of singing

Members' Quotes
(from the Singing in the City website)

"I love the friendships, the camaraderie and the sound"
"It's the highlight of my week"
"Thanks very much for the warm welcome, the singing is great and this is the friendliest group I have come across in my 36 years in London"

 Link  Singing in the City website


Stained glass window in St Ethelburga's

St Ethelburga’s

St Ethelburga’s is a little church that has stood in the heart of the city for a very long time – going back to at least 1250 AD. The church was dedicated to St Ethelreda who was a 7^th-century abbess from Barking. The tiny mediaeval church had been a rare survivor of the Great Fire of London and the Blitz in World War II only to suffer near total destruction by an IRA terrorist bomb on the 24^th July 1993 that exploded in Bishopsgate causing extreme (and expensive £350-million-pound bill) devastation to  the area. The church’s very existence was in the balance with a faction of the Church of England proposing that the ruined church was permanently demolished. Fortunately, ‘The Friends of St Ethelburga’s’, along with a huge public outcry, prevented the complete demolition and secured its future with it being rebuilt to its original plan, albeit with many changes to its interior.


Detail of stained glass window

 

 

You can find a video recording of The Singing in the City Christmas Concert 2015 which was performed in aid of the War Child refugee crisis appeal, on my Global Scoble YouTube channel. Here is a link to the concert -  Watch the video!

Enjoy!

Concert programme

 

Ave Maria - Arranged by Helen Yoemans

Ise Oluwa - Traditional Yoruba Spiritual , arranged by Dee Jarlett

Adiemus -  Composed by Karl Jenkins, choral arrangement by Nicholas Hare

Ide Were -  Traditional Yoruba Spiritual chant to the Orisha Oshun, arranged by Dee Jarlett

Walk Dem Bones - Traditional Spiritual  arranged by Saundra Berry Mussa

White Christmas -  Composed by Irving Berlin, arrangement  by Katie Rose

Coventry Carol - Traditional English Carol

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas - Composed by Hugh Martin and Ralph Blane

Here is My Home - Composed by Si Kahn,, arranged by Sarah Morgan

Gaudete - Traditional carol in Latin meaning 'rejoice!'

 

 

 

 

Drawn to Distraction in a Life-Class at the Mall Galleries

To get to the Mall Galleries I need to cross St James’s Park.
It is fairly quiet and the swans and cygnets on the lake create a peaceful mid-morning scene.

A crow crows as I walk past.

I step into Pall Mall. Did you know that it gets the name from the 17^th century from when a Frenchman introduced the game Pelemele (an older sort of croquet type game) to be played on the lawns here?

A lone jogger huffs and puffs by...

Jogger jogging

Note: referring back to my post of 18th February ‘Now is the Time to Ban Joggers from Tranquil Walkways’ in which I complained a bit about joggers ‘en masse’. The odd solitary jogger is fine by me! It’s only when they are in their hordes taking over the pavement space that I have contention.


A long line of tourists crocodile their way up the red ceremonial route of Pall Mall and carry on past the elegant Regency style porticoes of the Mall Galleries, and on towards Admiralty Arch and Trafalgar Square.

A long line of tourists crocodile up the Mall

Note: the Mall has been tinted red since the period of Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation to create the effect of a giant red carpet leading up to Buckingham Palace – so eat your heart out Oscars!



Before entering the galleries, I glance up to the sky and see the sun (looking more like the moon than the sun making a feeble watery effort to break through the wintry cloudiness.

A watery sun tries to break through the wintry cloudiness

Once inside the galleries I join a pop-up life-class workshop with artist tutor Henry Gibbons Guy. The model is good looking and has a beard that reminds me of an 8th century BC Assyrian warrior of King Ashurnasirpal II who might have leapt right out of a great stone frieze that I have seen gracing a couple of walls in the British museum (I make a note to return to have another look at it again sometime).  It has all these wonderful warriors and horses and lions carved on a gigantic scale and is so AMAZING!

I've been supplied with good quality paper (which negates the lugging of my sketchbooks in an already too heavy satchel!). I want to experiment using charcoal and graphite sticks and mixing them with some wax. I have brought with me a small pot of Michael Harding’s beeswax paste and a Windsor and Newton colourless Oilbar. I draw a bit then smudge on some wax. Hmm this could be interesting… I look up and become a little distracted (not this time by the model, but by what is hanging on the walls. The workshop is being held in one of the galleries and the walls are exhibiting some smashing works of art and a painting has caught my eye.

It is a stunning landscape painted with a palette knife.

Tim Galton 'Incombe Hole near Ivinghoe Beacon, Buckinghamshire'

I return my attention back to my artistic endeavours and scribble and smudge and concentrate a bit more on my drawing

At the break, I sip a cup of tea and am idly looking at a painting of a rainy night scene, when the Assyrian Warrior God speaks over my shoulder, 'That's one of mine' he tells me.  I look at him, and back at the label beside the picture; it turns out that the Assyrian Warrior is an artist called David Caldwell, and a good one at that.

David Caldwell 'Rainy Night'

At the end of the workshop I roll up my master drawing of the Assyrian warrior and tuck it under my arm. Before leaving, I take a walk through the galleries and check out some of the other paintings in the Lynn Painter-Steiner Prize Exhibition.

There is a beautiful oil of Ripley Castle. Gosh! That reminds me of an incredible experience I had whilst visiting this castle in Yorkshire. You wouldn't believe it! I must tell you all about it in another post when I have more time to tell you about a ghostly 'occurrence' from the English civil War. Its a very spooky castle.

A large picture of a broken ship in a wide a cool sea...

Detail of painting

Broken Vessel by Peter Archer

Picture Details

The Cowgate is the winner of the Prize and I like it.

The Cowgate by Henry Kondracki

Details of The Cowgate

The next painting I come across makes me feel like taking a walk around a garden...and I love the thickness of the paint and brushwork. Painted by Peter Clossick and Runner Up for the Lynn Painter-Stainers Prize.

The Garden

Another Runner Up Prize painted by Benjamin Andreas is of Hoxton Square. I'm often in Hoxton so, who knows, I might pass by this location sometime...

Hoxton Square Daytime

Emma Haworth's Secret Garden is like reading a wonderful children's story and I would have liked more time to explore it. The delightful naivety of its style would be magical to hang in any child's room.

Secret Garden

Details from Secret Garden

My final painting selection just makes me want to do some wild swimming in some unknown remote and secret place..

Secret Place by Daniel Ablitt

Oil on canvas 

After spending the morning in distractions of the arts I exit the galleries and out into the afternoon.

Is the sun shining? Nope! The sun has failed in its vain attempt to break through the cloud which now hangs flat and grey overhead. Ah well, Spring is just around the corner, so who knows? We might get to see the sun some time soon.

A Private View at the Menier Art Gallery

My sister Teresa (no, not the Saint) has invited me to a private view at the Menier Gallery in Southwalk.

We enter the gallery, and smart waiters offer me a large glass of wine and a plate of nibbles. I pick at the tasty selection, and feel sorry that I have already had dinner and there is no room for more; nevertheless out of pure greed I stuff the delicious morsels into my mouth, instantly regretting the increase in my girth that will ensue.
The wine is cool, dry and crisp and just how I like it.
The artworks on the walls are accomplished, sophisticated and sublime, displaying a  simple beauty that the Japanese are so good at.

Teresa grabs my arm ‘We are in the wrong gallery’ she tells me.
‘What?’ I mumble. The food in my mouth restricting clear speaking.
‘We’re in the wrong gallery!’ She reiterates. ‘The one we’re invited to is downstairs… in another gallery. I gulp the remainder of my plate and swill it down with the cool crisp wine.

Downstairs a glass of Champagne is placed into my hand, and I wave aside the offer of crisps. I drift around looking at the paintings and sculptures. Everyone here seems to know everyone else and a lot of talking is going on.



Talking…

Talking...

 I prefer to stand quietly by myself and gaze…

 at a perfect  little mono-print by Ilaria Rosselli Del Turco. 

I become absorbed in it and I muse - 

'I would buy that if I had the money.' I look the name of the artist up in my catalogue - 

' Ilaria Rosselli Del Turco? - what a beautiful name. Why can't I have a name like that?!' 

I wander around and discover an interesting sculpture by Laurence Perratzi.

On the way home we walk by the river, which tonight has its beautiful face on. It is awash with colour from myriad light reflections, rippling in the water.

The moon is full and high; but can't quite climb high enough  to perch on the peak of the Shard - and only manages to hang at one O’clock beside it.  (*apologies for blurred photos from my phone - but hey, let's blame the Champagne!)

The air is cool and crisp as the wine in the Japanese exhibition.

We saunter along, past Shakespeare’s Globe theatre’s  gleaming Tudor white walls and passing beneath the stark dark industrial outline of the monolith building of Tate Modern, call in to the Founders Arms near Blackfriars bridge to quench a thirst caused by a touch too much Champagne. I order a glass of water and a beer as a chaser.

Later my  sister and I say goodnight and wend merrily on our separate ways – she toward Waterloo station and I back to the Millennium Bridge.

The bridge is free of the crowds at this time of night and I can enjoy a brief moment of solitude. A flock of gulls flaps over me to land  on a great strut that runs the length of the bridge; and the birds jostle into line to roost.

A couple are strolling on the bridge; their footsteps making a soft metallic twang on the steel walkway.  They don't notice me as they pass by, nor do they notice the small dragons beneath their feet, that an artist has painted minutely on each glob of chewing gum on the bridge. Their eyes are on each other, and the moon.

 I am taking my normal route home toward St Bartholomews and Cloth Fair, but suddenly I am confused and feel lost and disorientated (no, it's not the Champagne!).
My route is blocked. I am sure that when I came by this way recently there were  no building works.

There had been great solid buildings here! The alley I usually go down is no longer there!

There is a vast space where a massive demolition has taken place. The like of this has not been seen since the Blitz I feel sure.

What were the buildings that have gone? Why can't I recall what was there before?

I am forced to divert and find another way. So much building work is going on in London today. There are 150 skyscrapers planned!

Can you believe that!? 

Gone are the days when the clay substrate that London stands upon restricted the height of the buildings. At least, at this time of night the works are silent.  The construction workers are asleep; the heavy drilling and thrum of construction to start again in the morning.

There remains one workman however, in a hole fiddling with wires, with a faint smell of gas around him.

I move on quickly.

*The 12@ Menier exhibition of twelve contemporary artists focusing on notions of representation and abstraction runs until Saturday 27th February.

Artists exhibiting are:

• Sophie Bayntun
• Alice Boggis-Rolfe
• Uta Brouet
• Camilla Cannon
• Susanne du Toit
• Roxana Halls
• Sarah Jane Moon
• Laurence Perratzi
• Oldham Pryymak
• Ilaria Rosselli Del Turco
• Elizabeth Shields
• Adele Wagstaff

Now is the Time to Ban Joggers from Tranquil Walkways

I was feeling a little stressed - the pace and trials of work and living in the city was getting to me - so I reckoned a little stroll down by the river might do me good - calm me down a bit.

The refreshing breeze from the water was bringing me the scent of the ocean that was drifting along on the tide from the estuary far away down river, and filtering gently through my nose passing into my pollution wracked lungs. I breathe deeply while sauntering past a cormorant holding his wings spread out, standing still in a pose like a carved statue at the entrance of some grand mansion. 

Some Clipper boats motor past taking high fee paying passengers to the different jetties of the Tower of London or the O2 Dome. I like boats. I watch the spume of their wake and the surging waves. I am starting to relax. 

Suddenly, I hear panting and a huffing and puffing behind me. 

'What the heck is that!' I wonder. 'Is it a train?' 

Before I can turn round, a whooshing whoosh whooshes by me and a great mass of runners streak past and skim by, within an inch of my life. I totter as the gust of air affected by this phenomenon of joggers churns and dispels around me. 

Whoosh! 

The joggers are all large in stature (why are they so big?) and panting and sweating, and grunting, blowing and gasping, and have passed me with not an inch of space to spare between us. 

Their bright Lycra outfits glaring at me.


Then they are gone.
 'My goodness' I exclaim.
I resume my stroll feeling somewhat overwhelmed by all those large, healthy people rushing by. I watch gulls flying along above the water and then up and over a bridge.
I hear another train of huffing and puffing and panting behind me, and there are more Lycra clad joggers over-taking me dangerously close; then I see more joggers coming towards me at great speed
Whoosh! WHOOSH!
The whooshing breaks the sound barrier (possibly a slight exaggeration).
 It is very disquieting to have quite so many joggers using the river path. They leave no room for quiet, slower activity - like walking for instance.
There are so many of them - why aren't they all in their offices?

Why do people jog? Can anyone tell me? Is it fun?
None of them look like they are enjoying themselves. They obviously don't see anything while they are doing it, or they might give poor defenceless strollers some leeway.

Joggers are on the increase. They are breeding in huge numbers. I'm not saying stop jogging – oh no, not that! As I am sure it is a healthy activity -   I'm just suggesting not to do it ‘en masse’ like a charge of rampaging marauders. Give a thought to the slower specimens of mankind who are out for a gentle stroll; and not to sweep past them in such a way as if they weren't there and discarding them to the wind.

Grrr! I HATE JOGGERS!

 I've nothing against Lycra, don't get me wrong. I like Lycra. In fact, it can appear rather attractive on some people (I could name a few I know :)) But, it should be worn at home where it belongs and not out in the streets frightening the horses (Or disturbing constitutional walks of small people).