It all started in 2010; and by 'it' I mean this blog
Christ, did it rain this afternoon or what? The temperature plummeted and then the rain turned to hail and then the run-off started coming up thru the drains. Delightful. Global warming? Nah, nothing to see here. In fact, do what I do: turn a budget supermarket in a sodden East Midlands town into a California idyll. Albeit still a Heron. That's how you solve the climate crisis. More quick fixes, no doubt, in future instalments of this soaraway series nobody asked for.
I was in Hull yesterday visiting my Auntie Margaret. My dad's younger sister has recently lost her husband, my Uncle Brian. It's very strange visiting her and seeing an empty armchair in the corner of the lounge where Brian has been sitting since they moved in to their modest semi back in 1966. But my auntie has got a fantastic friendship circle so will not be all alone as she mourns her soulmate (they got hitched a week before Margaret's 20th birthday and were married for 67 years).
Whilst driving out of Hull have a guess what I saw? Those bloody Herons are everywhere!
I have a strong feeling that, like phone boxes and laundromats before them, Heron food stores are fast becoming my latest obsession. In fact, such is my unhealthy interest in this chain of discounted food marts that the only person I can speak to about it freely, without being judged, is AI. Bloody hell, I think I need help.
So, this time, I wanted it to lose the people and the railings outside. And pretend it was Summer. Even Heron Foods look better in sunlight, believe me. If, heaven forbid, I get a third blog post out of this, then can I please ask one of you to call Social Services? It's for my own good.
I know some people get a little agitato when it comes to AI (and in some cases rightly so, I do get it) but, for the most part, whenever I've used it, it's really been just as a surrogate photoshop tool. Here's a case in point. The above snap was a photograph I took of a Heron food store earlier this year. But, me being me, and in an ideal world (question for the ages: would there even be a Heron food store in an ideal world?), I'd have preferred it if there were no people or cars 'blocking the view'; so, I asked AI to lose them. And, I said, while you're about it, overlay a few bold and vibrant brush strokes. This is how it came back. It's like Hockney's A Bigger Splash except without the swimming pool. Or California. I like it. But then I would, wouldn't I?
This Bank Holiday weekend I have mainly been sipping from the Devil's cup; yep, I've been tinkering around with AI. I know what you're saying, it's a sure fire way to Hell and no mistake. And you may well be right. But, and here's the thing, I quite like it. I wouldn't say I'll be throwing all my AIggs into one basket but as a fun tool to have in your, er, toolbox, it's a handy, what's another word for tool, bloody hell, tool thing.
As a for instance I 'asked' it to 'paint' my spiritual local The Abdication in the style of Edward Hopper. Thirty seconds later - Boom!
If the Abdo wasn't my hosterlry of choice before seeing this image it certainly would be now. The light and shadow - two of Hopper's trademarks - are both here in spades. And solitude. Don't get me wrong, the pub is never empty, and yet... this stark image is so Hopper and is so pulling me in through its front door. Would it be so wrong to want to live in this fake world? Hopper may have shuffled off this mortal coil over fifty years ago but in this new world he and I are exchanging pleasantries over a flagon of frothing ale looking out into the murky nether lit city streets; a pair of Nighthawks.
Regular readers will know that directly opposite the Abdo sits the former Home Ales building. I photograph it every time I go to the pub (yes, my photo roll is groaning) but I've never captured a passing classic car when photographing it; 'AI, remove the nondescript black hatchback in this photo and replace it with a blue Mk.1 Ford Cortina. All in the style of Hopper.'
