Going To The Chapel

Back in my hometown there still is a monastery. I made this drawing as part of the exhibition that never took place in 1994. I thought it was a nice building to draw, especially because the village was very expending then. Many houses were build and it looked like the public garden surrounding the place had to make place for a new road and parking places. Luckily that plan never worked out.
During my childhood days I remember seeing nuns walking in our village. My father always used to say: "A nun on the square, brings rain in the air". Of course this was a joke, but sometimes he was right and the day after we saw a nun it started to rain!
Years later my father was frequently asked to play the organ in the monastery's chapel, or, as he sometimes called it: "he had to play with the nuns". A bit naughty, my father isn't he? I remember one day, when I was already adolescent, the organ in the chapel was out of order due to maintenance. My father asked me to help bring in a wooden pipe-organ, owned by a fellow organplayer in our village who was willingly enough to lend out his very expensive pipe-organ for free. All for the good cause, of course. His only demand was that the organ was transported by me. Why, I don't know, I guess because I had a big stationcar at that time. Anyway, everything went well, until we had to bring in the organ into the chapel and my hand got stuck between the organ and the posting of the door. Before I knew it I said something very inappropriate at that time and place and I still can remember the look on the face of the nun who was accompanying us. I'm still very sorry, sister.

Not The House Of My Father

Another advantage of cleaning up archives, is the joy of finding drawings which were long time forgotten. For instance the drawing I've made of this cottage in the village I was born. I'm not sure in which year I've made this pendrawing, but it must be around 1994, cause it's made with the same sizes and drawingpaper I used for the drawings I made for the exhibition that never took place (read my previous post).
This cottage stands on the corner of the street where my father was born. His elderly house didn't look a bit of what it looked like when my father lived there, so I choose this house as subject of my artistic needs. The house my father lived in was also in use as a bakery and a little shop. My father started his own bakery when he got married and my uncle inherited the bakery my grandfather started. Over the years the building was reshapen to the demands of modern entrepeneurship and architectural ideas of how a bakeryshop should look like. That is: according to my uncle. That didn't turn out to be a pretty sight, as you might expect.
Luckily my father had some very old sketches in his possession, which were made in the 1930's by his old neighbour. Using these sketches and some old black and white photographs, I've made a coloured pendrawing. This drawing still hangs on the wall above my father's organ, back in my parents house.