PENNINE MILL, WINTER TIME... (My new poem inspired by a Peter Brook painting...)

 Pennine Mill, Winter Time…

(My new poem inspired by a Peter Brook painting…)

Distant hills fail to escape the all encompassing gloom

Of an industrial sky, colourless except for an apricot beam,

A promise, barely comforting, merely a weak streak above the institution.

Grim windows, cell-like, render the mill austere, as severe as doom

And only cursory white frost upon its shallow roof provides limited gleam.

Smoke billows its gasps like signals, from a smaller waterside construction,

Whilst the huge stack pierces the sickly factorial pollution

And shards of ice lurk upon the surface of the waterway, an illusion,
A shattered mirror fracturing the reality into a shivering confusion… 

Pete Ray…

3rd March 2026…

Peter Brook’s painting made me sit and look.

I was made to feel.

And history was there to experience…

The thoughts of independent source, The Sand Martin...

'This dour, dark mill painting harks back to a time in history when the relentless slog of human endeavour for pitiful wages kept the workers’ families in poverty whilst the mill owners revelled in luxury.

The mill symbolises the bleak exhausting lives of workers made old before their time by a treadmill existence of sheer slog and utter misery. The windows are difficult to make out, being painted in shades of dark colours like the entire building. 

The ice-white frost on the roof and adjacent buildings is the only brightness in the picture and illuminates by contrast the dreary industrial buildings. An enormous chimney towers high up into a gloomy sky and the hills in the background with a light covering of frost or snow add no joy to this scene. 

The location chosen for the abundance of running water is an abomination of nature spoiling the countryside but at the same time providing mind-numbing work for those with little alternative and hungry families. 

Whereas the industrial buildings are almost mid centre and dominate the picture the cold icy water flows outwards towards the onlooker. It makes one shiver, being painted in hues of greenish grey and is not at all appealing, though it balances the buildings perfectly. 

The broken ice floating along is reminiscent of the broken lives these workers lived at a time when labour was cheap and safety at work was not a priority or concern. Now many such industrial premises have been transformed into comfortable homes, shopping spaces or art galleries and the horrors of yesteryear are consigned to history. 

This painting captures the cold harshness of a bygone age superbly...'

33 IMAGES OF BIRDS AT UPTON WARREN, WORCESTERSHIRE, 4TH MARCH 2026...

 

CRAIL IN MORNING LIGHT... (My new poem inspired by Louise McIntosh's bright painting of Crail, Fife, Scotland...)

 Morning Sky Over Crail…

(Inspired by a memorable Louise McIntosh painting…)

A furious red sunrise burns cloud into sinister chunks of dark coal

Over Crail’s patchwork street, a cobbled mosaic, a veritable

Kaleidoscopic effect, as the morning reflects from the quay’s hewn stones…

Erect chimneys and slim roofs, tightly packed, proudly taut and noble

Offer clues as to the narrowness of the village, quirky yet somehow secure.

One small boat lies in wait for its skipper, a crabber perhaps, which shies

And lists away from the nearby tide, which hustles white with its indignation

Beneath the drama and backcloth of the violent morning skies…  

Pete Ray…

3rd March 2026…

Crail, on the coast of East Neuk, Fife, beautifully presented by the artist…

The thoughts of the independent source, The Sand Martin...

‘The old saying of 'red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning...' may foretell of stormy rough seas later in the day when this super bright and stunning morning might take a very nasty turn!

For now though it is brilliantly lit up in glorious and vividly painted colours that are almost technicolour. Each house and building is accurately depicted in black or dark tones, like line drawings that have been coloured in with shades of red and orange predominating and giving the thought that it is indeed a very hot day already.

The perspective indicates a very steep slope up from the beach further into the village and then higher up almost to the top of the painting. All the homes and buildings are terraced as they push up the hill from the beach area where one boat awaits an outing.

The different colours of each roof are intriguing as are the cross sections at the stepped edges on some rooftops. Even the greenery is vivid with some depicted in a garden area having grid type patterns to give texture. 

Flowering shrubs too in pink-orange shade have the same grid type of texture. The main street looks almost paved with gold as the yellow, orange, cerise and green hues lead up the hill.

This stunning picture is perfectly balanced by the yellowy cream features of some doors, windows and walls that give both relief from the intense colours but at the same time also accentuate them and thus the glorious nature of this wonderful painting.’

SISKINS, A ROBIN, A HOUSE SPARROW & A RARE GREENFINCH IN THE GARDEN THIS WEEK...

 

EARLY MORNING, NEWLYN, 1926... (My new poem inspired by Dod Procter's painting...)

 Early Morning, Newlyn, 1926…

(My new poem inspired by Dod Procter’s painting…)

Peace becalms the jumbled huddle of cottages and each stylised terraced house,

The angled roofs stripped clean of lichen, guano and lumps of moss. 

Soot-topped chimneys belch out no smoke, suggesting a warmer season

And the absence of gulls, although unaccountable, is really rather engaging…

The harbour’s jointed arms, like a crab’s claws enfold the quay, 

Where moored and tucked luggers shelter upon the calm sky-blue ocean

Of early morning Newlyn…   

There are no raucous screams of gulls, nor clamour from the fishing industry, which might rouse

The locals and there is no lighthouse to guide boats, whose irrevocable loss

In heavy storms could cripple the villagers’ lives beyond all reason.

The absence of more than a couple of folks, although unaccountable, is encouraging

And the enclosing granite arms one hundred years on, still nurse the boundary

Of the harbour for trawlers and crabbers and hand-liners which will soon set in motion

From early morning Newlyn…

Pete Ray…

2nd March 2026…    

Newlyn…

One of my favourite places to see, explore and photograph…

There is now a lighthouse at the end of the right-hand harbour-arm and the roofs are no longer stylised and tidy, like in Dod Procter’s smart painting!

One hundred years have passed since the artist produced this work… 

The thoughts of an independent source, The Sand Martin...

‘This painted view of Newlyn Harbour from the higher vantage point of the hill above looks almost like a photograph. The buildings and rooftops are very precisely depicted with delicate pale grey-white shades giving an impressionistic idea of slates. By contrast the pale orange chimneys and coping stones on the rooftops help to sharpen and delineate the shapes of the assorted roof areas. 

Similarly the greyish-purple areas in the shade stand out, comprised of various types of triangles that cleverly help to show the pitch of each roof area. They appear in parts to almost tessellate as they

fit together so perfectly in quite a graphic style.

The properties themselves are tantalising because one sees mainly rooftops and just a few house walls and windows, peaking the interest as to the full view of the homes clustered together.

Looking beyond, one sees the exquisitely deep blue shade of the calm sea and the harbour with three boats safely moored. Perhaps more are out at sea, having fished overnight.

The stout harbour wall indicates that the sea in these parts can be ferocious and the ocean beyond is depicted as being rather less calm than within the safety of the harbour.

From the soft green shades of the hillside to the colours used in the buildings and rooftops, this is mostly a calm and gentle picture with early sunlight illuminating the bright white of the buildings in the foreground. 

There is a beautiful juxtaposition of light and shade that makes the eye linger and wonder about the properties. The odd bright emerald green patch of garden and areas of lighter green by the harbour wall with a hint of yellow lichen on one roof, all balance this painting so beautifully.

The people walking along the harbour wall tell us that the day has begun in this corner of paradise where the sea beyond can be a living hell for those simply trying to earn a living and longing for the safety of the harbour that is Newlyn.'