MURALIST

~ Caroline Philp ~

Poolist, I should more accurately say for this particular post.

This blog isn't all about slash and burn, although that's what stiffens my sinews and puts an evil chuckle in my throat.

Look at this cheering clip

Admire CP's artistry

Come to Corfu and see and buy for yourselves.

The less lucky of you, check her out on FaceBook.

My talented mother kept an open mind to the end of her 91 years and was always looking, looking for new pleasures.

Rather than praise faintly or insincerely, she would mutter some approving words and move on.

The first ever unprompted praise I heard her deliver was over Ms Philp's gallery and her unpretentious normalness as a skilled créatrice.

Planning to the end, Maman knew she was going and shrewdly dispensed to her paintery pals the more valuable of her 40 years' accumulation of arty-facts. I have had the pleasure and satisfaction of passing to CP what would have gone to waste among lesser daubers - or, indeed, consigned to the tip as mere bric-à-brac.

Dame Laura Knight: Maman had an easel (unprovenanced) she'd bought in her impecunious days but which the gallery told her had belonged to Dame Laura, and I believe it. Magnificent structure, easily doubling as a garotter or gonad crusher, that would only have ended up on a Kondokali tip but now stands 4-square in the Kyma foyer as a chunky warning to over-exuberant suitors, or I like to think it does.

Look at what Caroline has made of maman's cigar boxes in which she kept brushes and oils. Look and marvel.

Music, Maestro! ~ And for your listening pleasure, Ελευθερία Αρβανι's Πάρε με αγκαλιά και πάμε - (Corfucius is nothing if not multi-media)

I was going to give you this but the accompanying graphics are a little too blood-stirring and some of my readership logs in from more cosseted countries where a glimpse of stocking is shocking and piano legs still covered.