Crossing the Shires

Published on 12.03.15

It was a glorious Springy Wednesday when HCA bulldozed into the county of Shropshire, on the way to invading the Local Ludlow Brewery. It was here that stage two of our “Reportage Drawing” project would take place. We arrived, pleased to see the activity of the staff, eagerly mopping the floors and carrying bags of

It was a glorious Springy Wednesday when HCA bulldozed into the county of Shropshire, on the way to invading the Local Ludlow Brewery. It was here that stage two of our “Reportage Drawing” project would take place.

We arrived, pleased to see the activity of the staff, eagerly mopping the floors and carrying bags of hops to the required location for the days brewing. After a moment or two warming by the wood burner (it may have been sunny but it was still pretty cold out) we set about drawing.

The atmosphere was great with the students enjoying the change of scenery and the opportunity to look down on all that was going on from the top floor. It was from here that we watched one student, whose anonymity I shall preserve, shamelessly flirting with the (nearing pension age) barmaid in an attempt to obtain some free ale. Thankfully the attempt failed (she had heard it all before and it was only half past nine in the morning).

Soon the brewery filled up with a variety of locals, all of whom added an extra angle to the content of the drawings, one man brought in a particularly curly haired dog that drew the attention of a few students.

At lunchtime we made our way in to the town, where we experienced Market Day in full flow and satisfied our noisy stomachs by making purchases from one of the many excellently stocked delis (apart from Nuala, who only wanted fast food which the local Subway was happy(ish) to supply.

The market provided some great drawings allowing students to capture movement and the complexity of the intricately arranged tents and stalls. A musical accompaniment was provided by some Ludlow teenagers who bombarded us with Bob Marley’s greatest hits. I’m certain the man himself never made it to Ludlow.

Time passed quickly and soon we found ourselves running for the train, all leaving Ludlow with happy memories and sketchbooks amounting to a visual feast.

Post header by Andrew Graham

Alan