LUDLOW, the Shropshire market town dubbed ‘the loveliest town in England’ by Sir John Betjeman, has it all: the curving embrace of the River Teme, a brooding medieval castle, a concentration of some 500 listed buildings, delectable food shops and a glorious church accessed by an alleyway of ancient pubs. I go there often, but by way of a little black sketchbook, rather than in person. I open a page and I’m back at the Harp Lane Deli: I remember the weather that day (sunny), the noise of the market behind me (bustling) and the Yorkshire terrier inspecting my foot (somehow both nosy and dismissive).
Drawing is to photography what walking is to driving: it’s more work, it’s slower, it demands patience and it’s something we’ve increasingly forgotten how to do. Yet it pays dividends: the work is the reward, the pace allows a scene to sink in and be appreciated. Concentration breeds a contemplative mind set and it’s something that can be re-learned. Anyone can draw, and the more you do it, the more you’ll want to.
I always travel with a camera, but, with my Luddite love of drawing en plein air, the distractions drop exponentially. It’s likely that more photographs have been shot in the past year than in the whole first century of photography: we all carry cameras in our pockets now. However, after posting a few selfies, we go tumbling down the rabbit hole once more, scrolling our way to a world of worry far from the Georgian streetscapes we’ve travelled three hours to enjoy.
This story is from the {{IssueName}} edition of {{MagazineName}}.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber ? Sign In
This story is from the {{IssueName}} edition of {{MagazineName}}.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber? Sign In
Tales as old as time
By appointing writers-in-residence to landscape locations, the National Trust is hoping to spark in us a new engagement with our ancient surroundings, finds Richard Smyth
Do the active farmer test
Farming is a profession, not a lifestyle choice’ and, therefore, the Budget is unfair
Night Thoughts by Howard Hodgkin
Charlotte Mullins comments on Moght Thoughts
SOS: save our wild salmon
Jane Wheatley examines the dire situation facing the king of fish
Into the deep
Beneath the crystal-clear, alien world of water lie the great piscean survivors of the Ice Age. The Lake District is a fish-spotter's paradise, reports John Lewis-Stempel
It's alive!
Living, burping and bubbling fermented masses of flour, yeast and water that spawn countless loaves—Emma Hughes charts the rise and rise) of sourdough starters
There's orange gold in them thar fields
A kitchen staple that is easily taken for granted, the carrot is actually an incredibly tricky customer to cultivate that could reduce a grown man to tears, says Sarah Todd
True blues
I HAVE been planting English bluebells. They grow in their millions in the beechwoods that surround us—but not in our own garden. They are, however, a protected species. The law is clear and uncompromising: ‘It is illegal to dig up bluebells or their bulbs from the wild, or to trade or sell wild bluebell bulbs and seeds.’ I have, therefore, had to buy them from a respectable bulb-merchant.
Oh so hip
Stay the hand that itches to deadhead spent roses and you can enjoy their glittering fruits instead, writes John Hoyland
A best kept secret
Oft-forgotten Rutland, England's smallest county, is a 'Notswold' haven deserving of more attention, finds Nicola Venning
