The Brancusi Sculpture On The Staircase

My friend Marion realized that I needed a little coaxing.  “Go ahead, push the doorbell.”

We were standing on the doorstep of a rather large house on Castle Street in Cambridge, England.  The house was formed from three adjoining sixteenth-century cottages.

I pushed the doorbell. The door was opened.  For a few hours every weekday afternoon, the public is welcome to come and roam around inside this house. 

Marion and I roamed.  I immediately recognized a painting by Joan Miro hanging in the dining room...and I noticed that there were two guys sitting at the dining room table writing in notebooks. 

In the living room there were British folk art paintings on the wall and some twentieth-century sculptures sitting on tree stumps.  Amidst the art and sculptures, three women were sitting on a sofa, chatting.

When we passed a bookcase, somebody grabbed a book, sat down in a nearby chair, and started reading.

As we walked down a small stairway, I spotted a small Brancusi sculpture sitting on the next-to-top step.

What was this place?  It was filled with art --- but it was not exactly a museum.  It had lots of furniture --- but it was not exactly a house.

Marion saw the bewilderment on my face, and explained.  This house had been owned by a man who once worked at the Tate Museum in London back when modern art was struggling to be accepted by the art community.  This man, Jim Ede, encouraged the Tate to buy modern artists.  The artists were so grateful that they gave Ede artwork as presents for his house.  That explained the Miro on the wall and the Brancusi on the staircase.

The house is called Kettle’s Yard.  It is being maintained exactly as it looked when Jim Ede and his wife retired to Scotland in 1957.

Marion pointed out that the house is not all art.  She showed me a table where smooth stones had been arranged in a spiral.  Jim Ede would pick up objects when he went walking with his grandchildren.  He integrated the everyday objects into the house. 

Me:         “I wonder what is in this drawer.” 

Marion:   “You can open it.”

Me:         “Can I really open it?”

Marion:   “Go ahead.”

I don’t remember what was in the drawer, but I do remember that I felt like a guilty child and expected a guard to come swooping down on me the moment that I opened it.  No guard swooped down.  In fact, I don’t remember any guards whatsoever.

A woman sat down at the piano, played a tune, and moved on.

I realized that people do not visit Kettle’s Yard --- they hang out in Kettle’s Yard.  Marion and I were hanging out.  We were hanging out with a bunch of strangers in a place of art and found objects and books and inviting furniture and a tranquility only interrupted by piano music.

When my friends tell me they are planning a trip to England, I always mention Kettle’s Yard.  When asked to describe the place, I can only say that there is no place like it on this side of the Ocean and there is no place like it on the other side of the Ocean.

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Here is a 2-minute YouTube video about Brancusi, the sculptor:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oj5jpMpuml8

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com

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