It’s been a trying few months. We’ve relocated to London for a year and plan to return to Istanbul in August 2019. The process of shutting up one house and moving to another is exhausting as we all know. Now that the summer is over it’s time to be painting again…


Crushed street bollard in old Istanbul in watercolour

“So what do we stick on the end? I mean the bit that cuts stuff?” We were in the middle of buying a second hand angle grinder as we say in the UK, something that cuts through metal. Our conversation with Turkish craftsmen usually goes something like this. I go in search of a piece of equipment to help us with our 3D sculpture work and when I find the guy who can help us I say..
“Do you have one of those things which cuts through metal?”
“How thick is the metal” he’ll respond.
“I don’t know, it’s a car door, I guess pretty thick”. The guy usually pauses and then asks why we want to cut through a car door.
“It’s complicated to explain” this does nothing to help.
“OK, I’ll explain,  we’re artists and we are making sculptures”. At which point we’ll get out a photo of some of our efforts to date and then the conversation warms up and we drink tea…

A crushed bollard in Balat, Istanbul. Watercolour on 600 gm paper.

Merc respray…

Watercolour of a Mercedes Respray

“Fear clutches my b’reast” said Daffy-Duck in one of his best cartoons. The phrase stuck with our family and was added to the growing number of phrases forming our own unique family dialect.

This was different however, “It’s a clutch” the friendly motor oil covered warehouse assistant said.
“Really” I said? The peddle which I press on my elderly stick shift operated vehicle to change gear bore no resemblance in my mind to the metal object which lay before me.

It was however, beautiful. Herein lies the fascination for me. When we consider sculpture we often think of three dimensional works formed to evoke something beyond the mere substance from which they are created. Often there is a symbolic or a conceptual  angle the sculptor is seeking to investigate.

This pile of clutches which must have numbered hundreds rusting into tantalising shades of brown, orange, yellow and turquoise spoke so clearly of so many things and yet they remained silent in the corner of a dark cold basement in a breakers yard.

I picked one of them up and took it over the counter where the long suffering breakers yard attendant looked sceptically at me. He  knew that he was going to have to explain what it was, why it was actually going to be worth more than it looked to us, and that no, we couldn’t have a discount.

He was on the other hand probably looking forward to hearing why on earth we wanted it. I’m not sure I can explain that in English let alone in Turkish but the surprising thing is that once it’s pointed out to the people who work in places like this how the objects they sell have aesthetic appeal to the likes of me, their eyes light up and there is a flicker of recognition. It’s as if the apparently dull, lifeless objects they scurry back and forth with in answer to the barking orders of of local mechanics looking for spare parts are elevated to another plane.

Watercolour on 600 gm paper

The Nun, the assassinated great grandson of Ghenghis Khan and an old church in Istanbul


Hammers from a steel mill

Hammers from a steel mill

Byzantine Emperors had ‘illegitimate’ children like most of the rulers of their time. These  offspring it turns out were useful. Michael VIII Paleologus sent one such daughter (Maria Palaiologina) to be married to Hulagu Khan (a grandson of Ghenghis Khan). He however died before she arrived, so she was married to his son Abaka Khan. It then turns out that this husband was assassinated by this brother years later and Mary returned to Constantinople. Understandably (I assume) tired of international intrigue Mary became a nun and renovated the church which still stands in Istanbul known as St Mary of the Mongols. It was one of the few Orthodox churches of Constantinople to be granted permission to continue to as a church after the fall of the city in 1453. Yet another ‘diamond in the rough’ inconspicuously occupying a corner of ancient Istanbul.

Watercolour on 600gm paper