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Wednesday, September 07, 2011

Clive at The Gregynog Gallery, 2

Here are more pictures of the preparations for the retrospective of Clive Hicks-Jenkins at The Gregynog Gallery of The National Library of Wales. If you peek around, you may see:  Clive with Iwan of the White Gloves; Clive with Peter Wakelin; St. George; my bedroom at Ty Isaf (how did that get in there? wasn't he cute to provide a bear?) complete the two books published in honor of Clive and his retrospective; me looking just arrived, jet-lagged, and hanging on to Clive as though I might slide off into the abyss of sleep (my double-jointedness is showing); Ezekiel; still life paintings waiting patiently; the car leftover from the prior last show.


  1. What a magical unforgettable experience all that was for you, Marly, one for the grandchildren :-)

  2. Clive has a lovely way of life, and I was lucky to be invited in to see him in his natural environment and meet Peter and friends.

  3. Sweet bear! And again, an impressive peek into the preparation for his exhibit.

  4. Yes, it is interesting to see how much work it is to put up such a large exhibition, make all the signage and essays-on-board and so on.

    I can't believe it. First Irene. Now major flooding. Everything has been cancelled, stores closed by four, and I am wondering if the third day of school will be cancelled.

  5. By the way, that picture of you leaning on Clive shows you as seemingly quite alert! I don't see that melting into the wallpaper jet lag you describe and that I remember from my own trip to the British Isles years ago. It was worse, I'm sure, because we came further, from the west coast, and it took nearly a whole day to get there.

  6. Well, it wasn't as bad as flying back from Thailand, but I was still glad to curl up with Mr. Teddy!

  7. Just catching up here at The Palace. (Running late at Ty Isaf as I gallop gallop gallop toward the next deadline, ho hum!!!)

    Gosh but those photographs bring it all back. Look at the flowers from the garden on your bedroom table! Now we're rain-lashed and battered and the Autumn feels wintry even though it's only September.

    Thank you for summoning the happy memories. I'm with Robbi. I don't think I'm holding you up. More like the other way around.

  8. PS, the bear is Seymour, a gift to me from the cast of a production of Little Shop of Horrors I designed and directed. He growls when you tip him up!

  9. I don't think you told me that Seymour was a gift from a LSOH cast! How sweet.

  10. Oh, but these are nice!
    And that gallery space is fantastic. What a nice place for a retrospective, indeed!

    I will not think about bear in bed. Seymour, see less, see saw marjory daw : )

  11. Lovely gallery, lovely contents...

    The bear was very well behaved!

  12. I am glad to hear it, Marly!

    (What is it about teddy bears? I send those to people in mourning sometimes. Silly, sentimental maybe, but.....)

    I have some. I cannot help but have them.

    I do like Seymour. A well behaved bear.

  13. Yes, Seymour is not naughty.

    I have a Steiff that once belonged to someone else and that I wouldn't trade for a bucket of gold. Nope, not even two buckets.

  14. Just for Paul and clarification, Seymour Bear is not a pun! Is it?

    I'll have to check on the gift givers. They were from LSOH, after all.

  15. Indeed it is : )

    And I BET Clive Hicks-Jenkins smirked at that- just a little!

    Or groaned!

  16. He was named after Seymour Krelborn, the hapless florist's assistant in LSoH. During rehearsals for the show my birthday fell on the evening of the 'tech' that was an 'over-nighter' for all the technical crew. I was sitting in the auditorium at a desk rigged up for the LX plans and my notes, when the stage-manager appeared from around the proscenium arch bearing a be-candled cake, card and a gift. It turned out that when everyone at Theatre Clwyd had heard the sad tale of my dad burning my teddy-bear because it had grown damp while stored in a garage, then it had been decided to acquire a replacement for my birthday!

    When work on lighting the production finally finished in the small hours, there were plenty of puns shouted after me as I stumbled off to bed with my bear for forty winks before the final rehearsal day. Example:

    'Make sure he doesn't Seymour than would be good for him!'

  17. Oh yes... I recall one wag suggesting that he should be named Isaiah rather than Seymour.

    'Why's that?' I asked... too sleep-deprived to be on the ball.

    'Well just look at the poor little beggar! One Ias-iah than the other!'

  18. Drat, I just misspelled Is-aiah, killing that particular pun stone dead!

  19. Frying pan to fire!

    I wondered if it was a LSoH Seymour, but I was too sleepy to bother to see if it really was "Seymour" or not... (Why are we always sleepy? You were sleepy then, and we're still not getting enough Zzzzz-time.) It has been so long since I saw LSoH, though not, I am say to say, in a Hicks-Jen-kinsian production.


Alas, I must once again remind large numbers of Chinese salesmen and other worldwide peddlers that if they fall into the Gulf of Spam, they will be eaten by roaming Balrogs. The rest of you, lovers of grace, poetry, and horses (nod to Yeats--you do not have to be fond of horses), feel free to leave fascinating missives and curious arguments.