Hepworth's ghastly lemonade

You might recall that, a few posts ago - here to be exact - I wrote that: 'I was lucky enough to meet Dame Barbara Hepworth when I was a boy ... But that's a story for another blogpost.'  

Well, here is that blogpost (all photos by me).

I've visited Hepworth's house in St Ives - now a museum and an annexe of the nearby Tate Gallery - many times. But the very first time was very special. Dame Barbara Hepworth died, tragically, in a house fire in 1975 when I was 14. But, just a couple of years before that, I had the opportunity to meet her. 

My late dad, then a CID officer, had been involved in recovering the proceeds of a number of house burglaries and, among the items found, was what my dad believed was a small Barbara Hepworth piece. Despite searching the burglary records, no trace of a missing sculpture was found and no one had come forward to claim ownership. So Dad decided to take it to Hepworth herself to see if she could positively identify it as one of hers. He then asked me if I'd like to come with him and meet her. 

At the age of 12/13 I wasn't terribly well-acquainted with her work but I checked it out in the school library and liked what I saw. So, on the day, Dad picked me up in his unmarked police car and we drove to St Ives.

I'll be honest - my memories of the day are somewhat hazy but I do recall that it was very warm and St Ives was living up to its reputation as 'the brightest place in England'. I was briefly introduced to a kindly old lady in a wheelchair who asked me if I wanted some lemonade. I then sat in the garden while she and Dad chatted and sorted necessary paperwork. My lemonade arrived and was very sour - that's the thing I remember most about the day. 

Ghastly bitter homemade lemonade. 

I also remember looking at her studio and marvelling at all of the weird and wonderful tools and works in progress that were on display. As indeed, they still are - since Hepworth's death, her studio has been preserved exactly as it was left in 1975. I've been a fan of Hepworth's work since that day. 

How I wish now that I'd been a little older and more educated. There are so many things I would like to have asked her. But, at least I did meet her and I've since revisited the house more than a dozen times at least. Every time is a thrill. The fact that so many of her pieces are on display inside the house is great but the real treat is wandering around her beautifully landscaped garden with its little sheds and summer houses and dozens of huge, tactile sculptures.

Oh, and the sculpture? Dad's instincts had been right. It was indeed a Barbara Hepworth. What had made it hard to identify was the fact that it was a maquette - a preliminary model or '3D sketch' of a future artwork - rather than a finished piece. Presumably, some opportunist had taken it from her house because it was small and portable. 

My photos can't convey what a fantastic, relaxing and beautiful place her house is to visit. It's one of my favourite spots and, if I can catch it out of season when visitor numbers are lower, I can easily spend a whole day there just soaking up the atmosphere. 

Here's the Tate's biography of Hepworth. 

And her website.