I fear I may have committed yet another faux pas, this time with the local artist community, some of whom used to use my tearoom as a meeting place to plan their exhibitions and events.
Although not a particularly artistic type I embraced my new found friends, happily publicising and attending their events. They didn’t seem to mind getting trapped in my toilet - I didn’t mind their impromptu pagan dancing and singing in my courtyard.
All was well until I noticed that they had stopped dropping off flyers for their events, the invites to the ‘gala’ openings dried up and the realisation that they hadn’t popped in for a coffee since June.
Perhaps toes have been trodden on. After seeing a price list for one of their pieces of work, I commented that it was a lot of money. The piece in question was 5000€. To put this in perspective I would need to let a room in my B&B for over 100 nights to get that sort of money. I didn’t say it was too dear or not worth the money, just factually that it was a lot of money. This did not go down well.
Failing that, it is all my mother’s fault. While on a visit I persuaded her to come along to one of the exhibitions. This was perhaps not a good idea as my mother is even less of an arty type than me.
The exhibition consisted of a number of rough drafts of poems with assorted paperbacks tied up with string and pinned to the wall. Another exhibit consisted of various wine glasses glued to a French window. This work is by Pontrieux vitrailliste Julian Lannou and looks stunning.
What was not expected was someone breaking the silence by playing this exhibit with drumsticks and wailing. This was followed by three people walking round in a circle hitting cowbells and chanting, finishing off with a bagpipes and a rendition of The Wild Rover
I knew the effect this would have on my mother. She was attempting to hide behind me, tears rolling down her cheeks and her fist in her mouth in a vain attempt to suppress the laughter. My mother’s critical response to the spectacle unfolding may have been the most honest, but I fear may have harmed Pepworth-Artist relations.