"I have observed something else under the sun. The fastest runner doesn't always win the race, and the strongest warrior doesn't always win the battle. The wise sometimes go hungry, and the skilful are not necessarily wealthy. And those who are educated don't always lead successful lives. It is all decided by chance, by being in the right place at the right time".

I came across these words from the NLT* version of Ecclesiastes 9:11 while researching luck and superstition. They provide, to my mind, an apt opening as I write in a week when America chose its 47th president, the latest of many elections across the globe this year, elections with fathomable or unfathomable, favourable or unfavourable results, depending on which side of the aisle you sit.

The superstition I was particularly interested in was that around the number thirteen.

Last month I was involved in an exhibition held in a church. For organisational reasons, the exhibition pieces had to be numbered, so I found myself the night before sitting at my kitchen table scribbling numbers 1 - 45 on tiny white stickers. I sailed through numbers 1 - 12, but what to do about sticker 13? If I wrote that number on the next white sticker, would I be blighting the chances of the unfortunate artist whose work had been so marked? I hesitated. What to do? Use 12a? Skip straight to 14? Would any art collector buy a piece branded with that inauspicious number?

I wrestled with my conscience and reminded myself where this exhibition was to be held. The Christian God, we are led to believe, disapproves of superstition in any form, and offers divine protection to those who blithely walk under ladders, plonk their new shoes on the table, raise wet umbrellas indoors and go around forgetting to salute and suitably greet any magpies they might come across should they venture outdoors. We were in a church, for heaven's sake. It would be all right. I continued my numbering operation, content, until the time came to apply the stickers to the artworks set out on display. I stickered my way through Nos 1 - 12. My fingers quivered as I peeled off No. 13. I hesitated. There were people watching, I had no choice. I drew a deep breath and slapped the seal of fate on the next artwork. Artwork No. 13 was my very own painting. Part of me was relieved I hadn't blighted anyone else's chances of a sale. I shrugged. I knew my own work wasn't going to attract a buyer in any case - both of my pieces were too big, too abstract, too unfathomable for anyone to tuck under their arm after enjoying tea and cake at a pleasant church fundraising event. I carried on, resignedly, stickering on through to the end. There was always my second piece, of course, No. 14... but by the end of the first morning everyone had sold something, it would seem, except ill-fated me. I wasn't surprised or perturbed for the reasons mentioned. I was surprised when in the middle of the afternoon a cry came from the corner "I'm going to get it!!" and No. 13 was sold. "Lucky 13!" I thought. "I knew it!"

The next week was the opening of sales at the National Brain Appeal's "A Letter in Mind" The Wonder of Colour exhibition. ALIM invites artists to anonymously submit work they have made specially on the back of an envelope, and these are sold to raise funds for research into neurological conditions. It's an exciting event in that all envelopes are priced the same, but buyers, while they can view the artworks, don't know if they are purchasing a piece by a celebrity artist, or an unknown, until they have put their money down. All revenues go to the charity, and it's a fun chance for little-known artists to rub shoulders on an exhibition wall with the likes of Grayson Perry, Zandra Rhodes or Orlanda Broom. Incidentally, there are envelopes left to purchase, both from this and from previous years and I will put a link at the end of this post.

Anyway, the annual ALIM exhibition was launched the week after the exhibition at Yaverland church. Imagine my excitement when I saw my two submissions had again been allocated Nos. 13 and 14. Thirteen, of course, sold on the first day. Fourteen took a couple of days longer to be snapped up.

As for the painting at the top of this blog post, I decided to push my luck by singling it out simply because it is the thirteenth artwork from a new exhibition I currently have in the upstairs gallery at Ryde Library. The exhibition is called Peopling a Landscape and is my impressions, in abstract images, of the more urban aspects of life on the Isle of Wight. Nos. 14 and 15 are also oil paintings and they form a trio with No. 13. I have named this little threesome "The Dancing Floor". All the paintings are named after works of detective fiction in honour of the classic crime book club which meets monthly at the library, but the stories they tell have nothing to do with the books that share their titles. The caption in italics gives a clue to my internal narrative regarding these three. This is one mini saga among several which unfold within the exhibition.

The Dancing Floor

"We are waiting in the gangway for our train to reach the station, bounced gently by the linkages under our feet and certain in the knowledge that we have long missed the last ferry home".

So, if you are in Ryde between now and 29th November (inclusive), please pop into the upstairs gallery at the library during open hours (closed Thursdays and Sundays) in George Street and have a look. For those who are too far away, I've included a whistle-stop tour of some of it in the video at the end of this blog.

Incidentally, there are hypnotists who offer a cure for triskaidekaphobia. Or we can just elect to follow the vagaries of reason and free will. The choice is ours.

*NLT - from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

Link to "A Letter in Mind 2024" online exhibition