The end of summer beauty has been rudely interrupted by shutter crashing brutal winds and rain storms. The colours are still beautiful but the landscape has changed character...the melancholy spirit of the hills is being blown aprt and made more more dramatic.
My charge is an interesting young man with Aspergers...and we are yet to find an equilibrium that will allow him to produce ...he goes from docile to mania in a short time and his medication is not fool proof. This can lead to confusing the fanciful with the true... The sharpness of the vision goes sour or muzzy...and the clarifying drugs, if taken to excess, end by making you either muddled or megalomaniac..
This is my challenge today in Pollensa. The sun is up bright and early and I have just climbed the 417 double steps that rise steeply from the Church of The Angels to the Chapel of Calgary overlooking the city and out across the valley to Formentor in one direction and the bay af Acudia and onto Can Picafort beyond. In the square the village idiot is acting out a scene from some imaginary drama. A few stray but affectionate dogs and some mangy cats.
I will return to the villa shortly, after my coffee, to see if my charge has finally managed to get up in time (this is the 4th morning) to catch some of the exquisite morning light. Also in a slumber is a writer, who has just completed a book about a potter, her husband who is a judge and who unusually cannot abide music in any form and I think especially classical. This is curious and I think stems from Eton days......though god knows what went on to give him such morbid dread....the mind boggles.
The flies are irksome and relentless. The usual poseurs...as found in Kathmandu, Goa and the Portobello Rd are sitting round the square full of an air of self importance as they pretend into their smart phones. Still they make a change from the other English taking photos of the Market and squirming and clucking at the sacks of live snails and marvel at raddishes the size of apples.
It was good to meet a house hold of artists staying in a villa nearby...a very elegant and fragrant homestead.....I was ashamed to see that in their 80s they had produced so much in the same amount of time as we had spent attempting to come up with something. They had been on the same flight though they were delayed a full hour in the airport as one of them had followed me after our brief introduction and all the rest had been looking for him -fearing the worst.
Yesterday was Market day and after that we attended Mass in the main church. A magnificent baroque/ renaissance rocco number in full darkened splendour after the brilliance of the Market outside. It was well attended and beautifully sung though I daresay enough to give the judge a full on panic attack. There was a beautiful moment when a young girl dressed as a bride was accepted into the church by making her first holy communion. It was moving to share her special moment as the family and friends snapped away with their mobiles and cameras.
Now I am off to the bakers and into the hills to sketch...
My charge is an interesting young man with Aspergers...and we are yet to find an equilibrium that will allow him to produce ...he goes from docile to mania in a short time and his medication is not fool proof. This can lead to confusing the fanciful with the true... The sharpness of the vision goes sour or muzzy...and the clarifying drugs, if taken to excess, end by making you either muddled or megalomaniac..
This is my challenge today in Pollensa. The sun is up bright and early and I have just climbed the 417 double steps that rise steeply from the Church of The Angels to the Chapel of Calgary overlooking the city and out across the valley to Formentor in one direction and the bay af Acudia and onto Can Picafort beyond. In the square the village idiot is acting out a scene from some imaginary drama. A few stray but affectionate dogs and some mangy cats.
I will return to the villa shortly, after my coffee, to see if my charge has finally managed to get up in time (this is the 4th morning) to catch some of the exquisite morning light. Also in a slumber is a writer, who has just completed a book about a potter, her husband who is a judge and who unusually cannot abide music in any form and I think especially classical. This is curious and I think stems from Eton days......though god knows what went on to give him such morbid dread....the mind boggles.
The flies are irksome and relentless. The usual poseurs...as found in Kathmandu, Goa and the Portobello Rd are sitting round the square full of an air of self importance as they pretend into their smart phones. Still they make a change from the other English taking photos of the Market and squirming and clucking at the sacks of live snails and marvel at raddishes the size of apples.
It was good to meet a house hold of artists staying in a villa nearby...a very elegant and fragrant homestead.....I was ashamed to see that in their 80s they had produced so much in the same amount of time as we had spent attempting to come up with something. They had been on the same flight though they were delayed a full hour in the airport as one of them had followed me after our brief introduction and all the rest had been looking for him -fearing the worst.
Yesterday was Market day and after that we attended Mass in the main church. A magnificent baroque/ renaissance rocco number in full darkened splendour after the brilliance of the Market outside. It was well attended and beautifully sung though I daresay enough to give the judge a full on panic attack. There was a beautiful moment when a young girl dressed as a bride was accepted into the church by making her first holy communion. It was moving to share her special moment as the family and friends snapped away with their mobiles and cameras.
Now I am off to the bakers and into the hills to sketch...