I mentioned recently that, in my artwork, I don't like to burden
familiar places with symbolism. I know this stretch of the Calder
well but I can't help thinking that this rusty old gantry (which
I'd never noticed before), projecting over the river from the cast
iron bridge of the disused mineral railway, probably does have some
I gingerly walk out along it and
find that it's quite springy, like a diving board, but I don't fancy
jumping into those deep dark waters below.
I've walked right to the end and when I turn around I discover
that there is now a gap of about seven feet between me and the bridge
- can I jump it? It looks just too far to manage in safety.
This gap is of course impossible in the real world and it's at
this moment I realise that I'm dreaming. I wake before I find out
how I'm going to get out of this cliffhanger situation I've put
It must be something about the end of the summer. At the end of August
last year I was having dark, deep thoughts about another bridge half an
mile from this one. I like the melancholy atmosphere of the autumn but
it was a bit too much for me last year and I got so fed up that I posted
hardly any diary entries in September.
Richard Bell, firstname.lastname@example.org