A day ago my friend and I have organised a trip to Compton Verney gallery to see exhibitions I really, really wanted to visit. Quentin Blake, and The Lost Worlds. It felt kind of like destiny- when I went to the Oxford trip with the university, I picked up the random flyer from the museum and didn’t look at it twice until I arrived back in London. Quentin Blake?! My heart lit up. The Lost Worlds exhibition looked equally intriguing- I have a love for woodland creatures, fantasy and fiction, and watercolor-esque work- this was certainly up my alley. I knew that I had to see this exhibition no matter how far. My friend and I planned to go, ordered train and gallery tickets and everything. Woke up at 7am on the day. Rushed to the bus stop. Running a bit late. Then, A Dooming Phone Call came. It was from the gallery. ‘Sorry, we’re closed for today due to extreme weather conditions,’ and I smile a Frozen Smile at the Snow. I looked at my friend. We decided to go to Warwick anyway. A Spontaneous Trip! How Fun.
It was the first time I’ve experienced snow in this country. It was the real Winter Wonderland. Real snow, Real crunch, Real Cold. It got me thinking about snow being used as a symbol / motif. Purity? Innocence perhaps. Maybe rebirth. Cleansing. I had a conversation with a friend before about this, he talked about blood in snow. Then I flashed back to some images I found on hunted animals before, dead in the snow. Also to Courbet’s snow paintings. I personally loved the fox one, of course. There is something about the concept of doing something so, Animalistic, hunting down and killing another, the only evidence of it being slaughtered concealed in the forgiving layers of snow. White is arguably the ‘purest’ color to exist. It’s the lightest hue yet it can hide and conceal the darkest crimes and secrets. Like hiding behind a mask. Hidden intentions behind a polished, glazed cover. An Evil veiled behind Good. (perhaps I can sketch out an idea for this)
On the day, we went around and took numerous pictures of this small town. Snow transforms everything. If there was no presence of snow, this town would feel much more empty… It covered all the grit, the grey. Like frosting on an old sponge cake. The highlight of the pictures was when I accidentally used flash in the dark, when snow was still falling in motion- the pictures, surprisingly, was fascinating. The snow, as it was floating down, reflected from the camera flash, so it was frozen in time in the image.
