Showing posts with label Germany. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Germany. Show all posts
Sunday, 27 December 2009
Saturday, 5 September 2009
Klaus Fussmann and abandoned houses
Following our landscape excursions on Sunday and Thursday, I went to the museum from where my parent's had sent me the catalogue of Albert Koenig's prints (mainly woodcut).
Koenig's landscape representations from the 1910-1940s caught my eye when they seemed so traditional and eery - old trees, woods and heather. He did many of those in the surrounding areas of the heathland we walked and cycled through. - The area is characterised by a particular geological formation - Kieselgur, which google suggests to translate as diatomite - which was industrially exploited... for making both filters and dynamite. (Wiki knows more about Kieselgur in German)
But we weren't in luck at the Museum with Koenig's work. Instead, there was an exhibition by Klaus Fussmann. - A retrospective full of interior still lives, gardens, a few landscapes and a few portraits.
And I begun to fill my gaps (in fact: a wide open void) on German contemporary art. And went back to take another look at this interior drawings and paintings a few days later.
Many of them were done in the (early) 1970s of abandoned Berlin flats and his studios. What a very good coincidence: I could explore still life of interiors a bit more; explore the wide range of yellow-beige via reddish beige to cool blue beige; and contemplate Fussmann's paintings in their quiet melancholy and the meaning of time, memory and emptiness.
... they all seem a bit flat, not quite melancholy and yet joyfully enough.... strange that...
[but I've wondered about this for long enough to know that that flatness is sometimes not more than a lack of experience and connotation assembled around a particular word]
For more info on Fussmann, try these gallery sites
White, empty and Berlin are the connections to the White Room. More I haven't found yet. His interiors are often arrangements on tables or shelves, of bowls, vases and assorted small, white things.
In all his interiors, he paints from above. He is looking down on the objects, or even the entire rooms. It's an interesting incident. It gives him a wide perspective and it makes the objects look even more forlorn and surplus. The paintings which depict a whole room look as if painted from a high ladder. It makes for an interesting assortment. While the table arrangements are often very monochrome, the rooms have the colour of some chairs, a cloth or a jacket.
I find the paintings very strong. Very different to the quiet, joyful assemblages of trickery that Morandi rearranged throughout his lifetime on tables, these are tristesse on canvas. They are left over, forgotten, only to be found by Fussmann who rearranged them into some order and captures them in their forgottenness. Momentarily, for a final snapshot of what is left.
I'm taken by the act of a final recording, taking stock of what has been abandoned. The painter as archivist, as record keeper. Of material objects that are left.
Koenig's landscape representations from the 1910-1940s caught my eye when they seemed so traditional and eery - old trees, woods and heather. He did many of those in the surrounding areas of the heathland we walked and cycled through. - The area is characterised by a particular geological formation - Kieselgur, which google suggests to translate as diatomite - which was industrially exploited... for making both filters and dynamite. (Wiki knows more about Kieselgur in German)
But we weren't in luck at the Museum with Koenig's work. Instead, there was an exhibition by Klaus Fussmann. - A retrospective full of interior still lives, gardens, a few landscapes and a few portraits.
And I begun to fill my gaps (in fact: a wide open void) on German contemporary art. And went back to take another look at this interior drawings and paintings a few days later.
Many of them were done in the (early) 1970s of abandoned Berlin flats and his studios. What a very good coincidence: I could explore still life of interiors a bit more; explore the wide range of yellow-beige via reddish beige to cool blue beige; and contemplate Fussmann's paintings in their quiet melancholy and the meaning of time, memory and emptiness.
Klaus Fussmann, Atelier Steinmann, 1970
gouache, pencil and coloured pencil on board
private collection
gouache, pencil and coloured pencil on board
private collection
I didn't know his work before, but was taken by this stark contrast between those empty rooms and overflowering gardens... the passing of time and all things living. I'm intrigued (if not entirely convinced) by this juxtaposition and marvel at the riches of the German language - Vergaenglichkeit was the word used - and struggle to find translations. How about :
transitoriness, evanescence, transience, transiency
transitoriness, evanescence, transience, transiency
... they all seem a bit flat, not quite melancholy and yet joyfully enough.... strange that...
[but I've wondered about this for long enough to know that that flatness is sometimes not more than a lack of experience and connotation assembled around a particular word]
For more info on Fussmann, try these gallery sites
- some bio info (in German)
- some of his work
- more of his work (also many prints - lino and etchings - note to self: look at them for printmaking course)
White, empty and Berlin are the connections to the White Room. More I haven't found yet. His interiors are often arrangements on tables or shelves, of bowls, vases and assorted small, white things.
In all his interiors, he paints from above. He is looking down on the objects, or even the entire rooms. It's an interesting incident. It gives him a wide perspective and it makes the objects look even more forlorn and surplus. The paintings which depict a whole room look as if painted from a high ladder. It makes for an interesting assortment. While the table arrangements are often very monochrome, the rooms have the colour of some chairs, a cloth or a jacket.
I find the paintings very strong. Very different to the quiet, joyful assemblages of trickery that Morandi rearranged throughout his lifetime on tables, these are tristesse on canvas. They are left over, forgotten, only to be found by Fussmann who rearranged them into some order and captures them in their forgottenness. Momentarily, for a final snapshot of what is left.
I'm taken by the act of a final recording, taking stock of what has been abandoned. The painter as archivist, as record keeper. Of material objects that are left.
Klaus Fussmann, Stilleben Käuzchensteig, 1974
oil and gouache on board,
private collection
oil and gouache on board,
private collection
Friday, 4 September 2009
Birch, heather, clouds and...
Yesterday, we went again to one of the heathlands nearby. We were there already on Sunday and my dad and I decided to go back with bikes, sketchbook and his friend. Them for cycling, I for drawing.
So, I had a couple of hours, inbetween rain showers and fast moving clouds for a bit of sketching and a bit of cloud gazing.
My mom when leaving: 'And you don't worry about bad people you may meet when you're on your own, Gesa?' - No, generally not, despite all the scare stories about the dark and moody heathlands, they are familiar ones.
Schmarbecker Heide,
Pastel in A4 Moleskine
But... in this case, I indeed better should. The nearest village? Gerdehaus. And Hetendorf isn't far either. Any more info you need? Try, this indymedia site here. Oh yes, the heather, the birch, the oak and our soil. And Nazi squatters.
They make me wonder if I do not misunderstand my field obsessions... looking for change and movement - it may be after all simply be about tradition, stability and something that hasn't changed all that much in over 70 years. And I have to think again of the so familiar euphemisms in use by my grandparents' generation to talk about their past.
Well: how to live among the fields, the heather and the woods?
Kieselgur Pond, Schmarbecker Heide
So, I had a couple of hours, inbetween rain showers and fast moving clouds for a bit of sketching and a bit of cloud gazing.
My mom when leaving: 'And you don't worry about bad people you may meet when you're on your own, Gesa?' - No, generally not, despite all the scare stories about the dark and moody heathlands, they are familiar ones.
Schmarbecker Heide,
Pastel in A4 Moleskine
But... in this case, I indeed better should. The nearest village? Gerdehaus. And Hetendorf isn't far either. Any more info you need? Try, this indymedia site here. Oh yes, the heather, the birch, the oak and our soil. And Nazi squatters.
They make me wonder if I do not misunderstand my field obsessions... looking for change and movement - it may be after all simply be about tradition, stability and something that hasn't changed all that much in over 70 years. And I have to think again of the so familiar euphemisms in use by my grandparents' generation to talk about their past.
Well: how to live among the fields, the heather and the woods?
Kieselgur Pond, Schmarbecker Heide
Saturday, 10 January 2009
And onwards.
So many words for what was, and a short list for what I'd like to do over the next year.
1. Two proposals for exhibitions:
- a group exhibition with the Eldon Group for in a couple of years time
- a small exhibition of the books from my Found Papers Project
2. More art stuff offline
- get a better sense of Glasgow's art scene
- check out Berlin too
3. More larger scale drawing pieces
- life drawing
- more observation pieces to fill some of the gaps of my distant love for the sea
4. Travel and paint
- in Scotland
- in Chile
- in Germany
Most of these will involve coastal locations, so for subject matter, seascapes will hopefully figure more prominently.
As for the last point, Casey introduced me to Astrid Volquardsen's pastel paintings of the German coast and her blog Pastell Bilder. Often small scale pieces they capture beautifully the sea, the breeze and the horizon.
The German coast is a place I haven't been to for years, and for the past few years fantasised rather intensely of going there for a holiday, preferably in autumn. So, when I stumbled across Astrid's evocative paintings, that wish had a clear visual expression.
Astrid Volquardsen, Foehr - Oktoberlicht
Pastel on board, 12x34cm
Astrid Volquardsen, Sylter Brandung 3
Pastel on board, 12x34cm
Astrid Volquardsen, Sanfte Brandung
Pastel on board, 12x34cm
(all images copyright Astrid Volquardsen
click on the images to visit Astrid's website)
These are some of Astrid's paintings but do check out her blog and website too. Curiously, Astrid lives just some 30 miles from my parents' place, what a funny small world this is, some times.
As a reminder, I got myself this for my 2009 calendar:
click on image to see a slideshow of the calendar
1. Two proposals for exhibitions:
- a group exhibition with the Eldon Group for in a couple of years time
- a small exhibition of the books from my Found Papers Project
2. More art stuff offline
- get a better sense of Glasgow's art scene
- check out Berlin too
3. More larger scale drawing pieces
- life drawing
- more observation pieces to fill some of the gaps of my distant love for the sea
4. Travel and paint
- in Scotland
- in Chile
- in Germany
Most of these will involve coastal locations, so for subject matter, seascapes will hopefully figure more prominently.
As for the last point, Casey introduced me to Astrid Volquardsen's pastel paintings of the German coast and her blog Pastell Bilder. Often small scale pieces they capture beautifully the sea, the breeze and the horizon.
The German coast is a place I haven't been to for years, and for the past few years fantasised rather intensely of going there for a holiday, preferably in autumn. So, when I stumbled across Astrid's evocative paintings, that wish had a clear visual expression.
Astrid Volquardsen, Foehr - OktoberlichtPastel on board, 12x34cm
Astrid Volquardsen, Sylter Brandung 3Pastel on board, 12x34cm
Astrid Volquardsen, Sanfte BrandungPastel on board, 12x34cm
(all images copyright Astrid Volquardsen
click on the images to visit Astrid's website)
These are some of Astrid's paintings but do check out her blog and website too. Curiously, Astrid lives just some 30 miles from my parents' place, what a funny small world this is, some times.
- Astrid Volquardsen's blog: http://pastellbilder.blogspot.com/
- Astrid's website: http://www.pastellbilder.de/
As a reminder, I got myself this for my 2009 calendar:
click on image to see a slideshow of the calendarTuesday, 19 August 2008
Rural romance
... or something like that.
My mum fell for my attempt at avoiding clichees. Well, she did for a wee while. She liked the high contrast foreground. I offered the sketch to her. She thought about it until yesterday afternoon. Then she says, "You know what, Gesa, I never really liked the view to Frau Fischer's garden all that much, I think I don't want that view in my living room. But I really do like something in orange.'
I smiled. And thought of Frau Fischer's son, my neighbour, known him for twenty years since we moved to this place. Last week, my friend I. visited for a couple of days, and we went for a walk at sunset and moonrise, to show her THE fields. Well, she's been here before, but it's a long time ago. Anyways, we were walking down the small road and some tractor's busy ploughing the fields. I was a bit annoyed, it's a field that figures in many of the winter sketches, it triangular in shape and is just awesomely pretty, so some bare soil just was not cutting it for the picture I had in my mind.
So, my neighbour was ploughing the field, late in the evening as the full moon was rising. My friend and I keep chatting, walking, more chatting, stopping, more chatting etc etc.... on the way back, we're near the tractor. My neigbhour stops: "OMG, Gesa, I haven't seen you for years, what are you doing here", so he goes. Well drunk, his plough not only hits the field but also the path, the bramble bushes, he narrowly misses the telephone pole. He keeps talking and then muses, with the rising moon, how sitting on a tractor is good, really good, in fact as good as sex, well almost, he qualifies with an afterthought.
Well, and on he went, across the path, the bramble bushes and the fields, ploughing as the moon rose. There you go, plenty of romance in the idyllic countryside. Now, where are my bags? Time for packing again. One more post tomorrow and then I'll be gone again. Who would have thought that almost three weeks in the middle of fields, tractors and plenty of mosquitos pass so quickly.
My mum fell for my attempt at avoiding clichees. Well, she did for a wee while. She liked the high contrast foreground. I offered the sketch to her. She thought about it until yesterday afternoon. Then she says, "You know what, Gesa, I never really liked the view to Frau Fischer's garden all that much, I think I don't want that view in my living room. But I really do like something in orange.'
I smiled. And thought of Frau Fischer's son, my neighbour, known him for twenty years since we moved to this place. Last week, my friend I. visited for a couple of days, and we went for a walk at sunset and moonrise, to show her THE fields. Well, she's been here before, but it's a long time ago. Anyways, we were walking down the small road and some tractor's busy ploughing the fields. I was a bit annoyed, it's a field that figures in many of the winter sketches, it triangular in shape and is just awesomely pretty, so some bare soil just was not cutting it for the picture I had in my mind.
So, my neighbour was ploughing the field, late in the evening as the full moon was rising. My friend and I keep chatting, walking, more chatting, stopping, more chatting etc etc.... on the way back, we're near the tractor. My neigbhour stops: "OMG, Gesa, I haven't seen you for years, what are you doing here", so he goes. Well drunk, his plough not only hits the field but also the path, the bramble bushes, he narrowly misses the telephone pole. He keeps talking and then muses, with the rising moon, how sitting on a tractor is good, really good, in fact as good as sex, well almost, he qualifies with an afterthought.
Well, and on he went, across the path, the bramble bushes and the fields, ploughing as the moon rose. There you go, plenty of romance in the idyllic countryside. Now, where are my bags? Time for packing again. One more post tomorrow and then I'll be gone again. Who would have thought that almost three weeks in the middle of fields, tractors and plenty of mosquitos pass so quickly.
There's a PS for my friend M. who will get this in her email delivery. She will smile, remember last year's posts from the fields (like this one here) and think, yes, my dear, now it's time to go soon. I will. I did my homework while I was here.
Sunday, 17 August 2008
Composition clichees, Take Two
Ok, ok... after having uploaded yesterday's creation I saw it too: while eager to avoid one clichee - a path leading youse viewers into the painting - I firmly, and head first (as per usual), fell victim to another one: a stupid, trite and really corny framing of the view by a canopee of trees. Well, my excuse was that it REALLY, REALLY looks like that - and is it my fault if the world operates with clichees???
Where's the shade #2, study
Pen and ink in Moleskine, 26x21cm
Where's the shade #2, shadow shapes
Pen and ink in Moleskine 13x21cm
Na, in any case. This morning attempt no 2: keep the shadows, kind of lose the path and the leafy frame. A couple of studies were done to help me and then I proceeded on a slightly bigger board. This time a darkish blue meant that the world looked considerably more muted. There's more foreground, a bit (tiny, tiny) of the path and the shadow shapes. There is nothing to the right hand side other than a bit of emptiness.
Where's the shade #2
Soft pastel on board, 34x24cm
And all along I am beginning to long for something bigger and most importantly more abstract. All these studies are nice, worthwhile if not worthy, and good fun, but: they are really needing to turn into something else other than a place in time. And with the sketchbook and some plein air sketching I am definitely not getting there.
I want some glue, some paper, some acrylics, some ink to spatter generously across something large... Studio space is what my heart tells me... it'll have to wait a few more weeks to be back home, but it's beginning to feel like something to look forward to. Well, in the meantime: there'll be some more fields...
Oh... and another thought: OIL PAINTS... the smell of oils, turps and the headiness that comes with a studio full of cheap turps... hach, soon....
Where's the shade #2, study
Pen and ink in Moleskine, 26x21cm
Where's the shade #2, shadow shapes
Pen and ink in Moleskine 13x21cm
Na, in any case. This morning attempt no 2: keep the shadows, kind of lose the path and the leafy frame. A couple of studies were done to help me and then I proceeded on a slightly bigger board. This time a darkish blue meant that the world looked considerably more muted. There's more foreground, a bit (tiny, tiny) of the path and the shadow shapes. There is nothing to the right hand side other than a bit of emptiness.
Where's the shade #2
Soft pastel on board, 34x24cm
And all along I am beginning to long for something bigger and most importantly more abstract. All these studies are nice, worthwhile if not worthy, and good fun, but: they are really needing to turn into something else other than a place in time. And with the sketchbook and some plein air sketching I am definitely not getting there.
I want some glue, some paper, some acrylics, some ink to spatter generously across something large... Studio space is what my heart tells me... it'll have to wait a few more weeks to be back home, but it's beginning to feel like something to look forward to. Well, in the meantime: there'll be some more fields...
Oh... and another thought: OIL PAINTS... the smell of oils, turps and the headiness that comes with a studio full of cheap turps... hach, soon....
Saturday, 16 August 2008
The world in high chroma
... a consequence of the limited palette but also a bit of playfulness. Late summer colours just shout cobalt and orange at me. So, I willingly oblige. And this is what I end up with. My parents don't recognise their world in my paintings, but that's probably quite alright, hm?!
Do you see what I did again: painted pages in my sketchbook. I think of 'Liar, liar...' and grin quietly to myself. Determination, heh, overrated... The colour I used was my old school posterpaint - kind of low grade gouache with little opacity, but ok. It doesn't rough up the paper all that much, but I just liberally add hairspray and it works pretty well, thanks again, Brian!
Where's the shade, Softpastel on Colorfix
34x24cm
This scene was a spontaneous find this morning. Spontaneous only in that sense that it's a view I've seen thousands of times. The shadow shapes on the path intrigued me.
Do you see them? No? Well, they somehow got lost, didn't they? I'm never too keen on any of the rather obvious composition points like: lead the eye of the viewer into the painting by using a path... well, it becomes so quickly so generic, so I ignore them. And the shadow shapes got lost at the expense of the fields in the distance. I will need to try again, tomorrow morning, find another way to ignore the path and keep the shade.
Do you see what I did again: painted pages in my sketchbook. I think of 'Liar, liar...' and grin quietly to myself. Determination, heh, overrated... The colour I used was my old school posterpaint - kind of low grade gouache with little opacity, but ok. It doesn't rough up the paper all that much, but I just liberally add hairspray and it works pretty well, thanks again, Brian!
Where's the shade, Softpastel on Colorfix
34x24cm
This scene was a spontaneous find this morning. Spontaneous only in that sense that it's a view I've seen thousands of times. The shadow shapes on the path intrigued me.
Do you see them? No? Well, they somehow got lost, didn't they? I'm never too keen on any of the rather obvious composition points like: lead the eye of the viewer into the painting by using a path... well, it becomes so quickly so generic, so I ignore them. And the shadow shapes got lost at the expense of the fields in the distance. I will need to try again, tomorrow morning, find another way to ignore the path and keep the shade.
Monday, 11 August 2008
So easily pleased
... she is. Do you want to see why?
A few pictures taken just at the time at the sun hits the top of the clouds... That's all there is here. Nothing more. Oh: well, and of course a field of corn and some harvested wheat fields. Not much going on around here.
And now I definitely need to go looking for the turps in the barn to get some pastel ground prepared. I keep missing the mornings but the evening light is fab here. So much friendlier than what I remember from the winter sketches. Well: eight months and two seasons further on. And more than forty sketches and paintings on the subject in the meantime.
A few pictures taken just at the time at the sun hits the top of the clouds... That's all there is here. Nothing more. Oh: well, and of course a field of corn and some harvested wheat fields. Not much going on around here.
And now I definitely need to go looking for the turps in the barn to get some pastel ground prepared. I keep missing the mornings but the evening light is fab here. So much friendlier than what I remember from the winter sketches. Well: eight months and two seasons further on. And more than forty sketches and paintings on the subject in the meantime.
Still surprises me how I end up circulating around these rather boring fields... hm...
Thursday, 6 March 2008
More wintery siblings
Primaries WIP, oil on canvas,80x70cm
... to the earlier posted Haze. These two are not quite finished, they are slightly larger in scale (80x70cm) but worked with the same palette.
Little to say about them just now, so: Hello to the Works In Progress of Alongside and Primaries (I even used the thesaurus for some online playtime with titles).
Alongside WIP, oil on canvas,80x70 cm
The canvas of Primaries was in an earlier life a very mishapen life painting in oil, so I am liking it already much better. These canvasses are not that much larger to the previous ones (80x70 to 65x60) but that extra bit of space is making a huge difference to how it feels - well, both in lugging the canvasses around, but more importantly to the painting process itself.
There's one more of this series - the outsider, ugly duckling and difficult child... will introduce it shortly...
There's one more of this series - the outsider, ugly duckling and difficult child... will introduce it shortly...
Thursday, 21 February 2008
Some winter drawings
The weekly drawing/paintings sessions are about to come to a close over the next couple of weeks and I have begun to bring home some of the drawings that I did over the past few weeks.
If you remember, I've been doing all these winter frozen hazy landscape sketches in late December, and been working them up both in mixed media drawings and oil paintings.
Fields in December #1,
Mixed media on paper, 45x59cm
The process wasn't that straight - I kept working over it again - mainly to get some depth and texture into the woodlands, but also to define - move forward/backward - different masses.
Besides the winter mood, I was keen on developing a range of marks for the trees, in forground, further away or just at the horizon line. Here, varying hue, value and lines took some time. In the end, I faded quite a few of the very linear trees with gouache/acrylic washes - white and cerulean to make them less dominant.
I like how both of them work together, yet in terms of composition, complexity work very differently - and to see that the simpler one (#2) actually works compositionally.
What I was somewhat surprised of was just the extent to which my winter theme carried with it moody, overcast skies and bleak emptiness - far more than I intended, in fact. And I can show how I used the limited palette (cobalt blue, raw siena, lemon yellow and red earth) for the oil paintings in another set of drawings too, to moderate and temper that freeze. - That's for the next post.
.
If you remember, I've been doing all these winter frozen hazy landscape sketches in late December, and been working them up both in mixed media drawings and oil paintings.
- For photos, see this post
- For sketches, see this post
Fields in December #1,
Mixed media on paper, 45x59cm
The process wasn't that straight - I kept working over it again - mainly to get some depth and texture into the woodlands, but also to define - move forward/backward - different masses.
Besides the winter mood, I was keen on developing a range of marks for the trees, in forground, further away or just at the horizon line. Here, varying hue, value and lines took some time. In the end, I faded quite a few of the very linear trees with gouache/acrylic washes - white and cerulean to make them less dominant.
Fields in December #2,
Mixed media on paper, 45x59cm
Mixed media on paper, 45x59cm
I like how both of them work together, yet in terms of composition, complexity work very differently - and to see that the simpler one (#2) actually works compositionally.
What I was somewhat surprised of was just the extent to which my winter theme carried with it moody, overcast skies and bleak emptiness - far more than I intended, in fact. And I can show how I used the limited palette (cobalt blue, raw siena, lemon yellow and red earth) for the oil paintings in another set of drawings too, to moderate and temper that freeze. - That's for the next post.
.
Tuesday, 25 December 2007
Have some biscuits for christmas...
... and Oma Eschede's* Kolutschen would be an excellent choice.
Well, there was a plan to take a picture of the full tin,
but by the time I got round to it,
only these three were left...
They are part of my first memories of making Christmas biscuits. My mum, my little brother and myself in our old house's kitchen had set up an elaborate division of labour: first, Torben and I would have to attempt to roll the perfect round globes which wouldn't fall apart - difficult one, that one. Then we would argue a bit of who would have to baste them in egg white (not much fun) and who would be allowed to roll them in sugar after (much more fun).
Because he was younger, he wasn't allowed to carry out the more delicate task of poking little moulds into them (of course this isn't part of my memories but vividly in his; and probably one of the few disadvantages of being younger - which is of course my vivid memory ;)), the final task would be to fill the little moulds - like bird nests with jelly.
These were my mum's mother's Kolutschen - simple short crust dough with sugar and jam - unbeaten for Christmas sweetness. Strangely enough, these are biscuits I have still to make myself but without fail they would be in one of my mum's biscuit tins, as they are indeed this year.
Here's the recipe
Kolutschen
250 g sugar
150 g butter
1 pack of vanilla sugar
3 egg yolk
400 g flour
Whisk butter for 15 mins, add sugar, yolks and flour, form globes (about 2 cm diameter) , roll in egg white, then in sugar, use one of those squeeze things to making meringue (well: in German it's Fingerhut) to make a mould which you then fill with a bit of jelly (like the redcurrant one here).
Bake for about 10 mins in oven of 180 degree C (fan-assisted).
Here's another gem from my mum's cook book. It's not so much the recipe - I don't think she ever made that After Eight Cake, but it's my other granny's handwriting... and from the titling by me it must be about 20 years old...
* well, naming grandparents in my parents' house happened according to location, so we had Oma and Opa Eschede and Oma and Opa Uelzen ... and as a geographer I would learn some 20 years later that space and place mattered ...
.
Well, there was a plan to take a picture of the full tin,
but by the time I got round to it,
only these three were left...
Because he was younger, he wasn't allowed to carry out the more delicate task of poking little moulds into them (of course this isn't part of my memories but vividly in his; and probably one of the few disadvantages of being younger - which is of course my vivid memory ;)), the final task would be to fill the little moulds - like bird nests with jelly.
These were my mum's mother's Kolutschen - simple short crust dough with sugar and jam - unbeaten for Christmas sweetness. Strangely enough, these are biscuits I have still to make myself but without fail they would be in one of my mum's biscuit tins, as they are indeed this year.
Here's the recipe
Kolutschen
250 g sugar
150 g butter
1 pack of vanilla sugar
3 egg yolk
400 g flour
Whisk butter for 15 mins, add sugar, yolks and flour, form globes (about 2 cm diameter) , roll in egg white, then in sugar, use one of those squeeze things to making meringue (well: in German it's Fingerhut) to make a mould which you then fill with a bit of jelly (like the redcurrant one here).
Bake for about 10 mins in oven of 180 degree C (fan-assisted).
Here's another gem from my mum's cook book. It's not so much the recipe - I don't think she ever made that After Eight Cake, but it's my other granny's handwriting... and from the titling by me it must be about 20 years old...
* well, naming grandparents in my parents' house happened according to location, so we had Oma and Opa Eschede and Oma and Opa Uelzen ... and as a geographer I would learn some 20 years later that space and place mattered ...
.
Tuesday, 7 August 2007
Favourite buildings
It's photographs not pastel sketches today. Back since yesterday, I've just downloaded my photos onto the computer. Besides the sketches and relevant reference photos, there are a many of one of my favorite buildings. It's the St Marien Kirche, a church right in the centre of the small town of Uelzen. Built in the c13th in a style known as northern German brickstone gothic (beware of literal translations again!), it's proportions - plump and wide with a tall solid bell tower - always made me stop, wander around, look up and all around, just to start all over again.
There is something with its proportions that give it solidity and elegance at the same time. I was looking for some good websites, but all I could find were about church services and Christmas carols... which I will just give a miss I think.
With plenty of visits to the town, I took my camera with me on the last day - but really, a sketchbook would have been much better, and I need to remember that for the next time I'll be going. Have a look for yourself:
There is something with its proportions that give it solidity and elegance at the same time. I was looking for some good websites, but all I could find were about church services and Christmas carols... which I will just give a miss I think.
With plenty of visits to the town, I took my camera with me on the last day - but really, a sketchbook would have been much better, and I need to remember that for the next time I'll be going. Have a look for yourself:
Sunday, 5 August 2007
'All good things...
... come in threes' sounds a bit too much like a literal translation from German into English. But never mind that, here's the third post while in Germany.
Am Abend (Windows to the Sky #22)
Pastel on Colorfix board, 35x25 cm
This is the view from my parents' backyard. And it is also the reason why we ended up in this remote village at all. My dad was based at this telecommunication transmitter from the early 1980s onwards and would drive past the derelict farmhouse to and from work everyday. During those years, my brother and I would listen to a lot of stories on how great life on a farm with a large garden, animals etc would be like.
A few years later, the move was announced, and without knowing where we'd go, I exclaimed: 'Moving's fine with me as long as it's anywhere but Bokel' - the remote village, surrounded by heathland, dark pinewoods and the subject of a couple of scary stories was a place that I didn't fancy at all.
It didn't help: our house in the outskirts of a small town was sold and the farmhouse bought, my brother and I changed schools and left friends, and it took a good wee while to settle. Eventually, imaginary scary stories were replaced with the day-to-day scarieness that is rural teenage life.
Here are a few prep sketches:
Neopastel II, marker pen on paper, 21x14cm
Neopastel II, marker pen on paper, 21x14cm
Am Abend (Windows to the Sky #22)
Pastel on Colorfix board, 35x25 cm
This is the view from my parents' backyard. And it is also the reason why we ended up in this remote village at all. My dad was based at this telecommunication transmitter from the early 1980s onwards and would drive past the derelict farmhouse to and from work everyday. During those years, my brother and I would listen to a lot of stories on how great life on a farm with a large garden, animals etc would be like.
A few years later, the move was announced, and without knowing where we'd go, I exclaimed: 'Moving's fine with me as long as it's anywhere but Bokel' - the remote village, surrounded by heathland, dark pinewoods and the subject of a couple of scary stories was a place that I didn't fancy at all.
It didn't help: our house in the outskirts of a small town was sold and the farmhouse bought, my brother and I changed schools and left friends, and it took a good wee while to settle. Eventually, imaginary scary stories were replaced with the day-to-day scarieness that is rural teenage life.
Here are a few prep sketches:
Neopastel II, marker pen on paper, 21x14cm
Neopastel II, marker pen on paper, 21x14cm
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