A tale of two pictures Part 1

 Caro Ramsay   Scotland  on a Friday

Pam Carter

1952 - 2022

I guess a tale of two pictures Part One is the tale of one picture.

A rather well known Scottish painting called Storm Over Rhum. ( Rhum is a very pretty island to look at, but rather wet, rainy and windy to be on.) Storm Over Rhum has had many prints made of it, all numbered and signed. They are quite valuable, and sadly more so, now that the artist Pam Carter has passed away.

Doing my job, lines of practitioner/ patient can become blurred. I think lockdown and covid obliterated them completely. So. as I think back,  it's hard to see exactly when my relationship with a very old lady, we'll call her Jo, changed. It was probably during covid, or maybe before that when she’d bring her tablet into work, or her phone, to ask for her technical help. Or maybe it was when she lost her last dog, and started to emotionally borrow mine, Mathilda The Staffie.

Jo's children live faraway, they checked in regularly.  But I had my eyes on her once a week.

Jo was one of a kind. 

It's difficult to sum her up but she was 92 and drove a blood red Fiesta, with all kinds of turbos and extra bits. It was fast.

She was a Guardian reader, (she admired Bernie Saunders). She was a graduate of Cambridge University, studying literature. She was born in Liverpool,  and was lucky enough to be tall and slim with  a face made for modelling.

Due to work, she and her husband, relocated up in Scotland, in a small village about 30 minutes drive from where we live. It’s on the other side of the brae, so driving over the hills in winter was …. challenging. Not the first time Alan had to drive out to get her, and let her drive back in his wake so to speak. Or when she was diverted and had no idea where she was going.

 

She had a great interest in literature. So we talked about about books, about the TV series based on those books and how bad they were. She was very into ' proper literature' . She tried to educate me. She failed.

Jo was great fan of Simon Brett and for her 90^th birthday I asked him to send her a wee message saying happy birthday. He wrote her a rondel. She answered with a  sonnet. Or vice versa. They both videoed their performances.

She treasured that little clip very much.

She was the type who quoted Shakespeare correctly. And corrected anybody who quoted him wrongly.

She was  always beautifully dressed, (her father had been a tailor). Always very strong on her opinions, supporting children's charities, donkey charities,  horse and charities.  But she could be brutal in her put down. Which was great fun if you weren’t on the receiving end of it. She had a 'look' that could kill a lesser being at 50 paces. I  think most teachers have a  'look' they can weaponise.

And she loved dogs. In the small clinic I run from the house, the resident dog is often in the waiting room, cadging treats. Two patients just turn up to see the dog, not for any treatment.

There was a weird relationship between Jo and Matilda. Jo being a strict teacher would tell Mathilda to to sit in no uncertain terms, the dog gets a treat. Down gets a treat. Stand gets a treats. 

After doing that twice, Mathilda would run them together as a sequence and ask for 4 treats,

Jo would lecture her that she had to do each one WHEN SHE WAS TOLD.

Mathilda would point out that Staffies DO NOT do things when they are told, they sort of do things when it suits them. Vaguely.  This interplay went on for ten years or more, much to the amusement of others in the waiting room. I’m sure that all parties knew the game that was being played. It became a battle of wills.  The treats became  of higher value, as the sequence became more complex.

At the end of the day, I'm still unsure who was winning, but I suspect it was the dog.

Jo and her hubby  collected art, proper art. And jewellery. And Persian rugs that she hung on the wall. She’d say things about the weave and the weft. I'd say what happens if the dogs peed on it, and why have carpet on the wall?

Two months ago, we came home from holiday and Jo had sent me a text message that was a little odd. Some thing was not right.

We contacted her neighbours. Jo had had a fall.

She passed away a few days later.

Her two children wanted me to have something from the house as a memento.  And that was hard as she was quite posh. I had no idea, so I left it to them. They sent me pictures of a few things- a  few Persian rugs, a few vases, some jewellery.... what did I want?

I couldn't decide.

On Sunday,  Jo's son came by the clinic with two pictures, both Pam Carters, for me for choose between. I had seen them both on the WhatsApp, on a small photo.  

They were huge.

I let her son decide which one to give me.

He gave me the bigger one  Storm Over Rhum.

It was only when he left we discovered that it was an original.

THE original.....

It's now probably the most valuable thing I own that's not bricks and mortar.

We needed to get it valued as  it will need to be named on the house insurance.

I had no idea how to do that, so I sent an email to the person who looked after Pam’s work. She emailed me straight back. Turns out she was Pam's lifetime partner and she said that she was so glad the work had been given to me, and that I should enjoy it. It was one of Pam's favourites, one that was reprinted many times.  She pointed me in the direction of a valuation expert.  And I have to let her know what happens next.

  

So,  then I got on to the big art auctioneer in Glasgow. I sent them an email. I think I had barely pressed send  when they phoned me.

Are you sure it's original? 

Do you have Provenance? Do you want to sell it? Oh that was one of her biggest paintings. He sounded quite ( very!!)  excited.

 

A following email told me they sell more Pam Carters than all the other auction houses and galleries in  the UK put together.

More about Pam next week, she’s an interesting lady (born in Tanganyika in 1952 to an Austrian mother and a Scottish father.)

Meanwhile? The painting?

 

It’s covered in towels, leaning against the wall in an upstairs bedroom, with the door closed so no four legged interested parties can gain entry.

Do you want to see it?

Well, here it is; Storm over Rhum. The canvas is  over a metre wide,  half a metre tall.

I think it needs to be admired. Once I get the details of value and insurance, I might ask a public gallery if they want it on loan for a while.

Caro