I am getting ready to move house and the stress levels at home at the moment are high as the packing has entered its “relentless” phase. But I am not about to moan and groan (for a change), instead I am going to share some of my (perhaps slightly weird) reflections on packaging materials of all things.

Prior to the relocation, the materials likely to float my boat were leather, fishnets, feather boas, silks (you get my drift), but most recently I have found myself getting stimulated by cardboard and polythene!

Over the last few months, the acquisition of cardboard boxes has been a significant focus. Over this period I have found myself taking a technical interest in cardboard in a way I haven’t before. Boxes need to be double skinned to be strong enough; the more uniform in size the better for stacking; they need flaps that can be taped tightly shut.

I have caught myself looking at boxes cast aside by shops or taken to the tip (plenty of my stuff has gone in this direction) and wondering if I should snatch the cardboard and reuse it. Seeing it left to rot just felt all wrong.

I recently spent some time at one of my work related marketing agencies and was genuinely delighted when I was offered a batch of brand new, still strapped together Enviro Boxes.

In the run up to Christmas, my boss bought me a case of Belgian beers. I thought “beer, great” and then moments later thought “and I can reuse that box”.

In the extended Baldwin family, some of my relatives are also moving and I have been able to talk enthusiastically about cardboard boxes with my uncle (like normal blokes might talk about football, girls, beer or bands). We have discussed marking techniques and packing protocols.

Bubble-wrap has suddenly become a valued commodity and I have asked various people to save it for me.  I get a stash of the stuff and feel the urge to get wrapping immediately. I have even walked around various shops comparing prices for the stuff.

I am hoping that these odd/sad feelings pass. I haven’t got as far as asking Mrs B. to wrap herself in polythene or wear cardboard knickers, but I am nervous that I am on a slippery slope, I may never be the same again.

When the move is complete, I have already determined how others can benefit from the cardboard boxes I have amassed – they will not be wasted, they will be used again. It’s important to me!

My fingers are crossed that this is a phase I am going through, like Picasso’s blue period and that once the move is done, things will return to normal.

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Over the festive break a chap called Ray Horton got in touch with me to enquire about an artwork featured in my seventies gallery. The piece by Sylvia Watmough prompted an email dialogue because it turns out that Ray has another of Sylvia’s creations. His initial note;

“I saw your Sylvia Watmough artwork; I have a larger version of the same thing which was given to me in the late sixties by Sylvia Watmough. Have you any idea about its value or any more information whether it's collectible?”

Here’s my response to Ray’s email;

“Hi Ray,
Nice to hear from you, thanks for getting in touch.

With regards to your questions about Sylvia Watmough, I am afraid that I can't help. I acquired my picture some 15-20 years ago and since then, I have struggled to find out much about her at all.

I have seen larger dashboards before and in different colourways. I'd love to see what yours looks like. Perhaps you can email me a photo. I'll write a blog post if you do. 

As to the value/collectable nature of her works, again I am unsure. Things do appear on ebay/etsy from time to time but of course the value is only determined if the pieces actually sell.

I am fascinated that you got your artwork from the artist herself; that is a cool thing to be able to report. Did you know her? Was she a friend?

Kind regards,
​Adrian”

Our initial exchange of emails led to others and resulted in the sharing of the attached image and the writing of this blog post.

Apparently, Ray managed a DIY store where Sylvia Watmough purchased framing materials. On one occasion Ray delivered an order to her home/studio in Welling, Kent and was presented with the artwork shown in the photo.

The piece hanging on my lounge wall is signed but unnamed. I call it “Dashboard” because every time I look at it I think of the dashboard of an old car. Whilst I have the family saloon dashboard, Ray has the full blooded, multi instrument, sports car – think my Rover P5 to his Jaguar E Type. I think Ray’s artwork is terrific, it’s bigger and better than mine and, if I am honest, I’d like to own it too.

I guess that for Ray, value is important if he wants to sell his dashboard on (I have no intention of parting with mine). My guess is not a significant value given the difficulty in finding anything out about Watmough – but, and I may have stated this before - I am just a bloke that likes seventies stuff and that makes my point of view worth even less.

​Value aside, but of more importance for me, is that I am delighted that Ray managed to find me and engage in some dialogue. This is the kind of interaction that makes running my own website worthwhile.

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