Stephen Taylor – European Picture Hanging 1660 to today

It was a crisp winter night, where snuggling up in the work-from-home clothes had more appeal than dressing up for a glam evening for a Waikato Decorative and Fine Arts Society (Waikato DFAS) lecture. However, Iggy and I were so pleased we took the plunge into Hamilton’s wintry darkness to hear Stephen Taylor talking on picture hanging.

Stephen Taylor is an artist, lecturer and interior designer with a list of credentials longer than Barbie’s legs. His lecture made what initially seemed like an unlikely topic for a great night out into a richly packed and engaging hour. We had not previously realised that picture hanging has its own history.

Stephen started by explaining quadrati riportati (don’t you love the rhythm of those words?), where artists produced cartoons (drawings) of works to go on ceilings and then painted the actual work into the ceiling architecture. Elaborate gold edgings, which were part of the actual ceiling, formed the frame.

Design and placement of art works became integral with the architecture of stately mansions.  Rooms were designed to be perfectly symmetrical with artworks painted directly onto the wall. Some looked like windows to the outdoors. The paintings were part of the architecture. Paintings of equal size, shape and style were commissioned to be placed above symmetrically positioned doors. The chimney piece, in the middle of the wall, was frequently a family portrait.

I was intrigued by Stephen’s comment – so obvious on reflection – that the colours of paintings had to cope with being seen by candlelight or the light of an oil lamp in pre-electric days. As daylight faded, mid-colours “dropped out” more quickly than light and dark colours. The most important features of a painting were often light in colour so that they stood out in the quiet light  – a factor which will now attract my notice now, when viewing older paintings.

Later, paintings were painted on canvas, framed, and hung on the walls, initially very high up and tilted so that the eye could take them in. Art works of the time showed people standing. As paintings began to show people seated, the position of paintings on the wall shifted to a lower eye line. Stephen showed more contemporary placements where art pieces began to sit alongside other items hung on the wall – art as object. Stephen (who is an artist, himself) favours slim, grey frames for his own works so that they will fit well with any décor. It is a far cry from having paintings as an intrinsic element of a house’s architecture.

For those who wish to explore the topic further, Stephen recommends the book by Peter Thornton, “Authentic Décor”. In the meantime, I am putting out the hint that a perfect gift for Kiwicommunicator would be a copy of Stephen’s own book “Oak” which features three years of paintings of one particular oak – at daytime, night time and across the seasons. (Thanks to Stephen’s website for the images. There’s a lovely image of Stephen and Kiwicommunicator chatting after our DFAS meeting but it’s stuck on Iggy’s phone and is defying every possible move to download it.)

Oak After Snow

Midsummer Night

Billy No Mates and the Olympic flame

A big moment in the history of Billy No Mates Cafe.

Forgive me another moment of maternal pride. No – it’s not the gorgeous hunk with the flame! It’s the cafe behind, Billy No Mates, opened by my son with Olympic visitors in mind. Looks like he got pretty close to the action here. If you happen to be in London, drop by and say hi to Bill – and do leave a comment on my blog!

The Welldigger’s Daughter

Pascal Amoretti (played by Daniel Auteuil) with his gaggle of girls.

I have a natural bias towards French films with sub-titles, assuming that they will be original or provocative in some way. However, I think the four star rating advertised for The Welldigger’s Daughter was rather generous.

The characters were well cast – you have to love Daniel Auteuil in whatever role he plays, and Astrid Berges-Frisbey in the title role was luscious. The movie made me think how today’s women with dyed hair, painted faces and all their cleavages showing, have missed the point about sexiness. The innocent welldigger’s daughter, Patricia Amoretti,  modestly attired, was seduction personified – which is what caused the crisis around which the plot hung.
My quarrel was with the plot. It was Cinderella without the glass slipper – and with an extra-marital pregnancy. Very messy. If you didn’t get all along that perfect Patricia (except for that one  lapse) was going to win over the evil business man (welldiggers and their families being inherently good people and wealthy business people being inherently bad, of course) then you must have fallen asleep during the movie. I found staying awake easy – but would have loved the reward of a bit more substance and texture.
We popped down to Cafe Centrale for dinner afterwards – a modestly priced veal marsala for me and a substantial bowl of spaghetti for Iggy. It was fine, accessible, family fare and served with healthy steamed vegetables as part of the dish, which I applaud. Maybe, just like the movie, it was just a little too wholesome.

Cafe Olive, Flagstaff, Hamilton

Cafe Olive is our local. It’s pretty well always buzzing with people. You’ll find a walking group there, business people having an informal meeting and friends catching up with each other the easy way. Then there are the passers by picking up a takeaway treat. I love the food, I love the coffee (and the tea and the hot lemon and ginger drink) and most of all I love the warm welcome every time we come through the door.

If the winter weather discourages you from taking a stroll through the park to Cafe Olive, you can always find parking right outside.

These sofas have heard many of my secrets when I have sat there in comfort for a good catch up with a friend. (There are plenty of proper tables for when you eat.)

The scene is set with a Mediterranean theme. Specialty pastas, olive oils, coffee and other deli items are for sale.

I loved Tania’s most recent recommendation – cashew crusted chicken with lemon feta dressing and fresh tomato served in crusty foccaccia. I had to take the photo with the pretty bits facing the back, because it looked so great I tucked right in – then remembered I was going to take a photo!

Phil the barrista is a charmer – and the coffee’s exceptional, too!

Tania makes all Cafe Olive’s food on site. I think Tania must be a perfectionist. Melting little cakes piled high with swirls of icing, Eggs Benedict at breakfast, lots of lovely luncheon dishes – every mouthful is sheer joy.

L’Arte Cafe and Gallery, Taupo

New Zealand has its own touch of Barcelona’s Parc Guell. If you wander from the State Highway near Taupo and head towards Acacia Bay, you can discover one of the country’s best-kept cafe secrets. Well, not that much of a secret, as the cafe’s flyer tells us that L’Arte was selected as one of Lonely Planet’s top 10 eating experiences in New Zealand.

Before we even step out of the car, I am full of anticipation. There’s got to be something witty about a cafe whose name is such a glorious pun.

The first hint of the mosaic work to come can be seen as you step out of the car.

There’s more of Judi Brennan’s work on the counter front.

So what do you find if you go up the stairs? A whole living room, of course!

Colourful and Imaginative art works are on display.

The ceramic flowers were particularly appealing.

L’Arte provides a feast for the eyes, the soul – and the appetite. The coffee was just right and the Mediterranean Basket was exceptional. The lunch menu offered so many temptations that we need to go back another day to try some of the other tasty looking offerings.

The prettiest ever teddy bear’s picnic

It was special to be invited to celebrate Iggy’s granddaughter’s first birthday. She is a lovely natured little girl who deserved to have a beautifully themed party. Here she is with Kiwicommunicator.

Nana-Chelle must have been working on the special treats for weeks. The cupcakes were decorated with party bears.

The teddy biscuits were exquisite.

The cake was too gorgeous to cut!

Just look at the fine detail of the picnic food. Each little plate was the size of a button.

OE Cafe, Palmerston North

OE Cafe in Palmerston North was a must-try after VJ had a great meal there a couple of weeks ago. VJ was sure I would like the ambience and she was right!

VJ knew I would appreciate having an art gallery surrounding the cafe. The current exhibition is one by artists from Dannevirke Art Society.

My particular favourite was a painting by Maurice Brookes. The first original painting I bought myself was a small Brookes. I love the energy and am intrigued by how he applies his paint.

The purpose of lunching at OE Cafe was to catch up with Yvonne. As an important aside, Yvonne is a talented artist who has sold her own works at OE Cafe.

What a bonus to have a surprise guest join us. Nikki (left) was the best-ever J1 teacher. She taught VJ and Iggy’s son. (Iggy is here on the right, looking pretty happy, lunching with three women.) Nikki was back in New Zealand after teaching for extended periods in international schools in Angola and Thailand.

The menu is arranged so all dietary needs are catered for. As we were having a big weekend food-wise I ordered the Vietnamese Shaking Beef (appropriately named, given that we experienced a small earthquake while we were in the cafe). Honesty is the best policy here. While there was a generous amount of beef, I was looking for some chilli and citrus notes that just weren’t there.

The coffee in its retro cup was a compensation. The cakes in the cabinet looked exceptional – but in the cabinet they had to stay.

Equine Café

We packed up the trusty Corolla wagon and set off on the five hour drive from Hamilton to Palmerston North for the weekend. Just out of Putaruru, we spotted a paddock with a collection of car wrecks on it and spent the next kilometre or so musing on who would keep these wrecks in full view of the North Island’s main state highway.

Iggy is most obliging about having café stops en route – primarily in the interests of road safety, I persuade him. As we pulled in to the Equine Cafe about 20k short of Taupo we met the owner of the paddock of wrecked cars! (Truly. I am not making this up.)

Iggy inspects the remains of a Sunbeam Talbot which arrived at the Equine Cafe only seconds behind us.

The guy and his wife travel around buying up old Sunbeam Talbots so that he can salvage spare parts for other Sunbeam Talbot car club members. The car collector and his wife were heading back north with a new addition to the collection near Putaruru.

Back to the main purpose of our stopover – making sure Iggy got his compulsory caffeine fix.

Equine Café is at the other end of the sophistication continuum from London’s Billy No Mates, featured in the previous blog.

In the large parking area, you are greeted with images of the back ends of horses.

If you are lucky enough to have the grandchildren with you, you drop them off at the playground so you can have your coffee in peace. (We spot cafes with play areas in anticipation!)

And you walk along the porch to the establishment’s front door, in a setting that is as rural as any cafe anywhere.

You order from a selection of New Zealand classics – Louise Cake is shown here. Most of the food is home cooked on the premises.

Best of all, in true Kiwi fashion, you chat with the very person you were wondering about earlier on in your journey. New Zealand is a very small place.

Billy No Mates in London

This blog takes us about as far as Kiwicommunicator gets from the Waikato – Billy No Mates Cafe in London, England. It is the first (and probably the only) time that I will blog about a cafe I have never even been to. Bear with me on this one. I am the proud mother of the Billy No Mates proprietor! His promo video had me salivating for crusty bread. I could smell the aroma of the coffee all the way to the antipodes. If you are in London, please drop in and say hello to Bill from Mum.

In the meantime, please follow this link and watch the brief Billy No Mates promotional video.

 

 

Tamarillos are really tree tomatoes – ask the Incas

Glowing tamarillos – in season in New Zealand now.

Tamarillo crumble – scrumptious.

I was pretty pleased when Yvonne walked in with five perfect tamarillos the other day. The generosity of the gift and the rich red colour of the fruit warmed a cold Hamilton day. Dessert for our dinner guests was sorted – individual servings of granny smith apple and tamarillo crumble, with the crumble topping dressed up with cinnamon and slivered almonds, and the whole shebang topped with half a blanched and skinned tamarillo with its stalk on (just for a bit of je ne sais quoi – you wouldn’t eat the stalk. One Master Chef judge purses his little lips when presented with food decorated with something you wouldn’t eat, but I choose to ignore him.)

Dad used to grow tamarillos in the garden in Auckland when I was a child – except we knew them as tree tomatoes. He’d halve them, sprinkle them with brown sugar and scoop them out of their skins. I still harbour some resentment for the marketer who, in 1967, interfered with my nostalgic association of Dad with his tree tomatoes by changing the fruit’s name to tamarillo – a made-up word that isn’t descriptive of anything much. The Incas who used to eat the fruit before it became lost from its native Central and South American habitat had it right. They called it the ‘tomate de arbol’ pepper. I notice Mr Microsoft has never heard of tamarillos, but is happy to accept tree tomato.

Fresh, raw tamarillos can be a bit sharp in flavour. Slicing them and scattering them with raw sugar makes them taste luscious and not too sweet. They are the perfect fruit for chutney making for those who have a ready supply. However, as they are sold as a luxury item in our local supermarket with a price tag to match, most of us are compelled to use them more sparingly.

Kiwicommunicator would like to know about your favourite tamarillo dish.