No Stone Unscanned

I found a book today that was in appalling condition, covered in enough mould to cure a TB epidemic. It was beyond repair, but luckily I was able to salvage the contents for scanning purposes.

Some of these illustrations by Reynolds Stone are barely larger than a postage stamp, but each one is as complete and satisfying as a full canvas.

Many of Stone's illustrations have a sense of quiet desolation about them. If people appear, they are always alone and the landscapes they inhabit seem to have come from the collective imagination of songs, poems and stories.

Here is a representative selection:

Reynolds Stone

The weekend hasn't quite turned out as I'd planned. Yesterday I set off in the morning for a beach party in Suffolk and was planning to take lots of bloggable photos of Dunwich Heath. Instead, I found myself in Essex, attached to an ECG machine. For a few terrifying minutes, I thought that was it.

My memory of the experience is hazy, but I do remember thinking that a mistake had been made somewhere. I was relatively young and healthy, ate my five a day and could fit into a pair of 34" waist trousers. I drank a bit too much wine, but didn't that thin the blood?

I also vaguely recall a slight disappointment about the banality of what might have been my final thoughts.

However, I slowly began to improve and the ECG tests showed that I had a healthy heart. Five hours later I was watching Placido Domingo in Simon Boccanegra. So what did happen? I shall see my GP tommorow and hopefully find out.

As I have no photos of Dunwich, here is something much better that I found in a book last week - seven illustrations by Reynolds Stone: