Lowry and the sea

I was going to start this post "A few months ago" and then I realised that I wasn't allowing for lockdown temporal displacement and, know what, it was probably a couple of years ago. Or maybe more. Anyway.

A while back, the Minx and I went to see an exhibition of Lowry's paintings. Actually, it might have been at The Lowry, which should be kind of poetic but, in fact, feels a bit prosaic.

Going to a gallery or an exhibition can be a roll of the dice for me. Sometimes I get it - whatever the elusive 'it' is - and sometimes I just feel fraudulent. That said, I usually find something that interests me, even if it's just how ridiculous the prose accompanying the pictures is.

Back to Lowry, though, and the exhibition, possibly at the Lowry. I was, predictably, expecting a lot of matchstick* men and, possibly, to find myself plagued by an earworm of Brian and Michael. And, indeed, those pictures I anticipated were there but also some that I wasn't expecting.

What stopped me in my tracks were the seascapes, which should have been boring but weren't. I found myself staring at them and becoming a little lost and separated from my surroundings. At least that's how I remember it.

I've been thinking a bit about Lowry this last few days, ever since I saw his drawing of the county court, last week. Maybe that's why I stopped as I was driving along the front at Morecambe, this morning, so that I could take this picture.

*I'm sorry. I can't go with "matchstalk"

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