Recommendations - The Stratfordian

An imposter in the world of artistic content

I know I bang on about Stratford upon Avon and its role as an imposter in the world of artistic content but my walk in the sun yesterday proved it to me.

Ironic really. I was sat on a bench a stone’s throw from the Royal Shakespeare Theatre. Sat like an ocean liner. Neon lights flashing and nothing going on. Due to leave port that evening but for the moment just selling coffee and pamphlets.

It set me off. I had a dream.

I was gazing across the expansive (expensive) pavement that along with the dry fountain, a field, some very nice trees and of course the swans, and known as the Bancroft, thinking, what a lot of dead space.

Now, I have never been to Paris but have seen the pictures.
You know the ones I mean?

paris artists

The photographs of Artists selling their wares.

I thought to myself wouldn’t that add some much-needed atmosphere? Wouldn’t that be interesting? If we did that.

You know…Painters selling their Art.

Maybe actually painting, drawing. Portraits on the go. While you wait.

artists in Parris

Don’t get me wrong. I mean, if it’s your thing you could still indulge in the cramped and themeless LSD markets. If you like being crammed into tight spaces and coming out smelling of street food, then fine. Carry on tatting.

I’m just thinking that a few artists and easels spread along that spacious and expensive pavement leading up to the Royal Shakespeare…on not-market-days…then why not?

Day time – evening even. Imagine. As the Shakespearians head towards their evening worship?

Busking without music.

Then I woke up.

I remembered.

This is Stratford upon Avon.

Controlled.

Encased.

Fingers in pies.

Static.

Immovable.

Same old-Same old.

Dead-in-the-water.

Forever and ever.

Amen.

Artistic Oasis

Once you have got over the shock that Stratford upon Avon is not the Artistic Oasis, that you thought it was, even with the Shakespearean influence, and is in fact a town full of tea shops and Estate Agents, I am here to tell you that all is not lost and there is hope.

There are nooks and crannies, hidden places where Art does exist, (and I am not talking about the same-old/same-old High Street galleries that sell pictures of pop stars in sparkling sunglasses for over a grand).

I am of course referring to The Cadabra Art Gallery that lies half-hidden up Stratford upon Avon’s own version of Diagon Alley.

One room crammed full, (at this point I would like to make a reference to the Tardis, you know bigger on the inside than the outside, but I am going to have to stick with ‘crammed full’), with remarkable works of art in every medium you can think of. Old and new, framed and unframed. Work by the long dead or still with us, local and otherwise. A cornucopia.

In other words, exactly what a working Art Gallery should be. A magical place. And all curated by the knowledgeable master collector and supporter of new artists, Graham.

A place where you can get close up and personal (touching range) to what you may be looking for and not the cold, sterile environment of the High Street Gallery of today. (You don’t even have to risk damaging your back by bending down to read a tiny print label that quotes you a price half of which goes to the gallery in er…’commission’).

To find this real Art Gallery you need first of all to get to Ely Street (Stratford upon Avon) and then the Antique Centre. Up the narrow alleyway where, lo and behold and according to the weather, you will either see the imposing figure of Graham himself or the small Gallery itself.

Prepare to be impressed (and tell him Ian sent you).