Barcelona: Four Days and Four Nights

Sun, sangria, and so much art. On exiting the airport, I was immediately accosted by the most Spanish of smells: drains. Yet it wasn't detracting - Barcelona is a city that sits balanced between decay and vitality, with the numbing heat made bearable by the cold saltiness of its seafood. Nowhere is this more perfectly found in the mordernisme buildings of Antoni Gaudi, where bones and living forms are used equally, and the underlying geometry of nature's undulating shapes revealed. Even as a long time lover of brutalism and bauhaus, I cried whilst visiting Casa Batlló it was so lovely.

Of course, there was some time spent drinking silly cocktails on the beach and trawling overpriced tourist shops, but I was touched by just how much the Catalonians cared about their art and civic spaces; graffiti and sculpture were treasured side by side, and I listened and danced to a live jazz concert on the roof of the world heritage site La Pedrera. You can see more of my photos from this brief break on my Instagram (where I also post lots of things that don't make it to the blog), and maybe again in future if I manage to make it back.

Have you visited another city recently? What's your opinions on art in public spaces? Let me know below.

Fiona C.

Bones you have thrown me: Skull Collection 2015

As you can probably guess my camera has been repaired, and I've been putting it to use by photographing a few pieces from my bone collection. I've mentioned previously that taxidermy isn't really my thing, and that still holds true; the anatomist in me appreciates the stripped nature of bone, and their endurance.

Most of the bones I've collected were ones I'd found, specifically in the highlands, but this jackdaw skull is one purchased from The Fox Den I received for my birthday last year. I specifically asked for a jackdaw as I have fond memories of a tamed young jackdaw I knew from when I was a kid sitting on my head and trying to eat my hair (it's really no surprise to anyone that I turned out the way I did), and wanted a way to remind me of him. It fits perfectly in my smaller glass cloche, and it was fun making an arrangement for it.

One of the advantages of being friends with the river bailiff (aside from local gossip and occasional free fishing for my dad) is how he called us completely out of the blue one day to tell us that there was a deer skull beside the river if we wanted it. It absolutely stank out the car on the way back, but it now sits proudly in the garden waiting to be cleaned and mounted.

My most recent addition is something I've coveted for a while, and so fragile I'm afraid to touch it - a complete mole skeleton. I got it on eBay for £30 (my mum shook her head and said I needed supervision for going online when I told her), and the skull is so tiny and perfect, like a baby's fingernail. It really deserves a display to showcase it, but until I either articulate it or frame it (the latter more likely, due to its delicacy) I'll share this.

Do you collect bones or curios? Anything you'd particularly like to see? Let me know below!





Fiona C.

Photography: The Fringe, and St Giles Cathedral

I have a strange habit of gravitating towards churches wherever I go; it started early, having a father who would teach me about the architecture of vast cathedrals and visiting tiny highland kirks to see Pictish Stones, but it's never quite gone away. Whatever you think of religion - christianity or otherwise - the houses of god are beautiful ones.

My first day at the fringe was a day in which nothing went to plan, but I still had a wonderful time. I missed my first show because of a mis-communication regarding trains (my fault) and went instead to see a musical production of The Importance of Being Earnest, after which we missed every show we tried to attend. We finally managed Andrew O'Neill's free stand up show (of The Men That Will Not Be Blamed For Nothing and my mental list of 'men most likely to make me swoon'), which was cackle-worthy in all the right ways. No photos of either, but both shows were great.

It's fun knowing people with connections; a friend of mine used to work at St. Giles Cathedral in Edinburgh (you'll almost undoubtedly pass it if you visit the Royal Mile), and he popped in to see an old friend still working there. We were treated to a cup of tea and some chit chat, before being offered the rare opportunity to go up to the roof. The inside of the kirk is beautiful enough - curiously irregular in shape, with beautiful windows and carvings - and definitely worthy of a visit, but it was decidedly an honour to see inside the clock tower.

We weren't there on the hour, unfortunately, but we got to see the inner workings of the clocks and go up the rickety stairs, before taking some photos looking over Edinburgh. Ben, having spent several summers painting the roof of the church, had no fear in strolling along the angled lead, but I was slightly more afraid of slipping and becoming a gruesome art installation on the Royal Mile.

I'd have shown a picture of me standing in front of this, but it would spoil the view. Interestingly, no one ever looks up.

It's terribly old and rickety, and Ben was worried that in my excitement I would fall down the uneven hand-cut stairs or lean against an unstable beam, but I loved it. In someways, this dusty and most select part of the church is more hallowed than the main kirk itself. Even if only to me, and those who care for it.

"Ring the bells that still can ring 

Forget your perfect offering 

There is a crack in everything 

That's how the light gets in."

I wish I could show more photos of my visit to St. Giles, but I didn't want to clutter this post (you might see them on their facebook, however). St. Giles will soon offer roof tours to the general public, so keep an eye out for that, and consider donating to keep these old buildings alive. 




Fee