Andrew Gray
31-05 2021 17:46
wrote:
Andy was the first person, outside of my wife’s family, I really connected with in Switzerland when I moved here in 2002. Whilst we first meet in the pub and spent many a good hour there talking about hopes and dreams, our friendship took on a multi-faceted role in our lives, of the adventures in the mountains I'll speak another time this one is for construction. Indeed, Andy was working on construction at the time, in the earlier 'noughties', and I was picking up some work doing set design. He was so true to his 'Handy Andy' moniker that I began to rely upon him for every project. We built a crazy set for the English theatre company that involved circa 30 old fragile old windows, with the putty falling out, I’d have likely fallen through one of them, trying to construct it myself. He was a true friend, after working all day on a building site he’d come to my studio and we’d work until the late evening, building the set, drinking a few cold ones and listening to Stereophonics. We worked on sets together for years. I was once asked to make a flying carpet for the Aladdin play at school, I had absolutely no clue what to do. Andy stepped in scratched his stubbly chin (he seldom shaved) build a heavy duty base on wheels holding a medicine ball on a tower (pictured albeit out of focus because he moved - hated posing for photos), the carpet was a sheet of ply with a frame underneath which balanced safely on the ball. It had to hold the weight of two teenagers singing their duet, tilt left and right, forwards and backwards as if flying, whilst being wheeled around the stage - it looked amazing. Genius. He helped me with my personal art projects too, in around 2005 I was having an exhibition (using the leftover glass windows from the set we built. I was running behind schedule and invited Andy and a few lads from school to help me finish some of the exhibition prep, whilst I carved and painted the glass. One teacher broke an art work whilst he sanding down a frame, caught it with his heel as he turned around, hadn’t even noticed. Andy and I walked in, ‘Rob! What have you done mateI 'That wasn't me! he said, Andy and I looked at each other, his response... "Guilty as a puppy next to poo on the carpet" Cross as I was he had me laughing. We kicked Rob out and I remade the broken piece, set it aside and started work on the piece I needed to finish that day. Andy was working with a team painting a large installation of windows outside. Taking a break to call home I turned around to see Andy with his head in his hands. One of the other lads had just carried a piece of work into the studio and stepped right through the artwork I'd been working on! We sent them packing, When they'd left Andy and cracked open a beer and stood there shaking our heads and laughing. In retrospect it would have been better if I'd only had Andy's help, would have got more done that day! Oh there's many more arty stories to tell, writing town one helps me remember another, with Andy always on hand to come out with the witty remark that summed everything up.
Andrew Gray
31-05 2021 17:46
wrote:
Andy was the first person, outside of my wife’s family, I really connected with in Switzerland when I moved here in 2002. Whilst we first meet in the pub and spent many a good hour there talking about hopes and dreams, our friendship took on a multi-faceted role in our lives, of the adventures in the mountains I'll speak another time this one is for construction. Indeed, Andy was working on construction at the time, in the earlier 'noughties', and I was picking up some work doing set design. He was so true to his 'Handy Andy' moniker that I began to rely upon him for every project. We built a crazy set for the English theatre company that involved circa 30 old fragile old windows, with the putty falling out, I’d have likely fallen through one of them, trying to construct it myself. He was a true friend, after working all day on a building site he’d come to my studio and we’d work until the late evening, building the set, drinking a few cold ones and listening to Stereophonics. We worked on sets together for years. I was once asked to make a flying carpet for the Aladdin play at school, I had absolutely no clue what to do. Andy stepped in scratched his stubbly chin (he seldom shaved) build a heavy duty base on wheels holding a medicine ball on a tower (pictured albeit out of focus because he moved - hated posing for photos), the carpet was a sheet of ply with a frame underneath which balanced safely on the ball. It had to hold the weight of two teenagers singing their duet, tilt left and right, forwards and backwards as if flying, whilst being wheeled around the stage - it looked amazing. Genius. He helped me with my personal art projects too, in around 2005 I was having an exhibition (using the leftover glass windows from the set we built. I was running behind schedule and invited Andy and a few lads from school to help me finish some of the exhibition prep, whilst I carved and painted the glass. One teacher broke an art work whilst he sanding down a frame, caught it with his heel as he turned around, hadn’t even noticed. Andy and I walked in, ‘Rob! What have you done mateI 'That wasn't me! he said, Andy and I looked at each other, his response... "Guilty as a puppy next to poo on the carpet" Cross as I was he had me laughing. We kicked Rob out and I remade the broken piece, set it aside and started work on the piece I needed to finish that day. Andy was working with a team painting a large installation of windows outside. Taking a break to call home I turned around to see Andy with his head in his hands. One of the other lads had just carried a piece of work into the studio and stepped right through the artwork I'd been working on! We sent them packing, When they'd left Andy and cracked open a beer and stood there shaking our heads and laughing. In retrospect it would have been better if I'd only had Andy's help, would have got more done that day! Oh there's many more arty stories to tell, writing town one helps me remember another, with Andy always on hand to come out with the witty remark that summed everything up.
