“Meanwhile, let us have a sip of tea. The afternoon glow is brightening the bamboos, the fountains are bubbling with delight, the soughing of the pines is heard in our kettle. Let us dream of evanescence and linger in the beautiful foolishness of things.”
… and let’s read the ‘paper while we’re at it.
Before occupational health and safety was invented, I had a holiday job demolishing an industrial oven made out of asbestos. I recall the boss’s safety advice: “if there’s a lot of dust, just hold your breath till it settles down.” Happy days.
We loaded the oven bits onto a Bedford truck. The truck’s mascot was a griffin waving a flag with a ‘V’ on it. A whacky touch of whimsy in the midst of hot, dusty, post-industrial grimness.
I saw a Bedford truck parked on a nearby street. It had a tree growing out of it, actually two trees, so maybe it had been abandoned. But the griffin badge was still there on the front. How the memories came flooding back …
Continuing my series of paintings of colourful medicines in the sunlight, here is Dimetapp Multi Symptom Cold & Flu, as seen late on a cloudy afternoon.
Photographer friends tell me to take advantage of cloudy days as, apparently, the light is more diffuse and creates softer, more evenly lit results. Certainly the mellow, fading light on this day brought out the warm amber honey tones of this gel capsule.
I have a crystal ball, but I have never seen the future except after it had happened, and by then it wasn’t the future anymore. The crystal ball has a swirly bubble in the middle of it; I imagine this is the glassblower’s breath immortalised and made shimmering in the afternoon light.
It is no surprise that there are lots of train spotting websites. From these I understand that what I saw at the mouth of a scary looking tunnel in Heidelberg was an automatic normal speed warning. I thought it looked pretty against the sullen stone backdrop.
There’s at least one reason Andy Warhol’s Campbells soup can was such a hit. Very smart people dedicate their lives to designing products to make them desirable, even suitable for framing. Howard Arkley borrowed his palette from the most attractive packets he could find on supermarket shelves, and then applied those colours to paint arresting pictures of the other shoppers’ houses.
I imagine that long hours went into making Advil just the right shade of acqua, and Nurofen Zavance just the right shade of red. These gel capsules very nearly occupy complimentary (that is opposite) positions on the colour wheel, and so colour theory reflects modern capitalism.
Continuing my series of colourful medicines, here are Advil and Nurofen Zavance gel capsules as seen in the afternoon sun.