People wander across the neighbourhood slipping into any several of the 17 houses spread across from Finchley through East Finchley to Muswell Hill. Finding moments of beauty, a mix of works which appeal or don’t, intrigues, appalls, little bits of delight fascination or nothing muchness. When the art feels dull the interiors are still interesting.
The heat on the pavement reflects back up, distances are calculated, decided upon and the long walk is given up in favour of an ice cream, a trip to the paddling pool or replaced with a quick hop on the bus.
New conversations are broached, new relationships are made, neighbours from the next road, day trips from Brighton, people come by and sometimes they don’t. Towards the end of the second day, a couple fall in love together with a painting which touches them, a little piece of magic.
During the week, what these visitors don’t know is that the artists turn into visitors themselves, re-walking their steps, taking turns to host.
This evening I met the potter who made the little sugar bowl I have, the one whose lid I had broken, and in an act of sweetness I was gifted a replacement.
Tomorrow the other exhibiting artists are invited here.
Next weekend it all starts again and then it will be over.
Alone on a Wine Dark Sea, to be collected tomorrow