Skills

Whilst browsing the bookshelf at work last week I came across this beauty. Not only is it an absolute treat to look at, but it is surprisingly educational in it;s content. Initially picked up and flicked through in jest, it quickly became apparent that the term 'housewife' described a completely different role in 1963 (the year it was published) than it does nowadays. This book features an array of everyday crisis solutions: quick party canapes, how to re-grout tiles, treating poisoned patients, fixing a broken pipe, how to love animals, making a dress and how to make your home a loving, welcoming one. Im pretty sure if there was an equivalent now it would focus more on personal grooming and the use of a microwave and mobile phone to delegate all household problems to others.

Peach

Have a look at Peach magazine. It is laid out beautifully in a very obsessive graphic designer fashion, but features some brilliant imagery of the girls ripping it up. I can't comment on the text content as unfortunately I don't speak Dutch. But I'm sure that it is just as brilliant.

Childhood dreams

Last night I watched a documentary on Christopher Wheeldon; one of the youngest and most successful choreographers of contemporary ballet. The Bolshoi Ballet (one of the oldest and most traditional companys) invited him to create a new piece for them. He takes two of his closest dancers/ friends with him to document the experience who prove to be more useful in the creative process than he planned. The way in which Wheeldon works as an artist is highly organic and exploratative, whereas the dancers he is working with are used to being taught predesigned sequences from previously established pieces. This is made evident right from the start and causes quite a ripple amongst the company and within Wheeldon's creative process.

Watching this documentary was a pleasure as well as inspiring. Not least because my childhood dream was to be a Prima Ballerina, but also to see that even the most successful, high-profile artists are often challenged by their own routine and processes and still have to adapt to ever-evolving situations. Just because you are a national star or prodigy, does not mean that performing and creating at the same pace and in the same way will hold your success status. Being successful is about constant challenge and development.

Having my memory stirred by remembering my childhood dream resulted in a late night trawl through youtube to find footage of a German TV series aired in the late 80's called  Anna. My life after the discovery of this series was changed forever. Mainly with my questionable fashion taste being based on that of Anna's. Actually, it probably still has a glimpse of influence still now. Despite the original being as badly dubbed as The Moomins and the German version now only available, I can still remember nearly ever word. Especially from this scene...one which was recreated hundreds of times in my living room with the sofas pushed back and the carpet rolled up. Which I am off to do right now. Enjoy. 

Sunny September morning

Corrine Day

Corrine Day passed away on August 27th. Although much controversy surrounded her work, you cannot deny the atmosphere of her images draw you in and take you away to the etherial place suggested in their mood. Beautiful. May she forevermore lay in peace. In her own etherial place. 

Open spaces please

Michael Foucault was spot on with his theory of 'the other'...the idea that to know what/ who you are, you must know what/ who you are not. It is through this process of elimination that we are able to work out who we are and what we are made up of. I believe it to be unhealthy to live with regrets, but instead feel that it is more beneficial to acknowledge and observe our conclusions about the effectiveness or the decisions we have made. This summer I have realised a number of things:

I thrive on space and dislike being in restricted environments

A good cup of tea and slice of cake in the afternoon is more enjoyable than pint number 6 at midnight

City centres on a Friday and Saturday night resemble my image of the hellish end of purgatory

The ocean is a decent substitute for the mountains

Waking up in a tent is bliss

Farms and parks in the city comfort me, yet also confuse me

Keeping a blog is self-indulgent and somewhat similar to considering your diary entries in the hope that someone 'accidentally' stumbles across it

Chai tea is on par with earl grey

All of these realisations stand correct for the time being, yet I know that they will shift and alter and dissolve with time. But for now I am planning as many escapes away as possible to places with real roaming trees, rolling hills and crisp, crashing waves.

"Into the Wild" by Jon Krakauer

So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity and conservatism, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man that a secure future. The very basic core of a man's living  spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day  to have a new and different sun.

The joy of reading

I have just finished reading The Uncommon Reader by Alan Bennett in which he writes as if he were the Queen who has just discovered the joy of reading. In this short yet thought-provoking novel, the Queen becomes wholly absorbed in the supposedly self-indulgent pleasure of reading and finds herself understanding her surroundings and subjects in a much more sensitive manner than her previously less-literate self. Those working close to her object to her new found pastime, seeing it as selfish and inappropriate due to its idol nature and lack of visible positive change to those in contact with the Queen. After a while her time spent reading evolves into time spent writing as she feels that this is a healthy compromise for all affected by her leisure pursuits. Writing, she considers, is an act of doing as opposed to just being and therefore less selfish as something physically happens out of the action. Fictitious as it is, the notion that reading or allowing yourself to be completely absorbed in an interest is selfish and disconnecting from ones surroundings is a sad one. I have always valued time spent on personal pleasures, such as reading, valuable and rewarding. There is a very fine line between selfish and looking after yourself but understand the line of selfishness to be crossed when other people are negatively affected by the action in question. It is 1.30am on a Saturday night and I have just spent the last two hours reading myself, instead of joining good friends in town. I am sure they have not lost out by my absence and I feel I have not missed out as I have enjoyed my "old-before-my-time" night with book and mug of peppermint tea in hand.

Everyday

Everyday I think about him, I miss him, I love him. Not just because it is today. Five years doesn't heal. It just quietens. But that dull ringing is always there.

Stratus/ Cumulus/ Cumulonimbus/ Rain

On Monday I started my mini adventure to Herefordshire to help create and make a mess at the Big Chill festival. This excursion was one full of big hills, rich green fields, ducks, biscuits, tea, wet feet, clouds, rain, sunshine and lots of fresh air. I'm not usually one for grand landscape photos but I couldn't help but want to show off the stunning sights of our homeland. Often it is easy to get absorbed by the notion that you have to travel faraway and spend lots of money and time to witness natural sights of wonder that take hold of your attention. But there is so much to be seen and appreciated at home I am beginning to find it hard to want to spend my time away.

Static/Suspension/Strength

So...here is the talented Holly Black who was my inspiration to bruise and batter my limbs through the circus art form of static trapeze. Having taken part in many sports and physical activities throughout my time, the act of movement, stretching and hanging from a suspended piece of apparatus is one which gives a feeling of complete skeletal and muscular freedom and release. It is rare to find yourself static yet suspended, being affected by gravity yet not grounded.

Wonderful things

Today has been a good day. I awoke to some welcome sun rays peeking through the slats of my blinds. My morning was one full of positivity and promising up coming opportunities. Then came two serious looking cyclists nearing the top of Park Street. One was of significant great age and looked like he was flagging at the last stretch. So, his younger more spritely companion gently positioned his hand on his back and cycled that bit stronger in order to aid his friend all the way to the very top without having to let aged bones and weathered muscles stop him. Next came a self-indulgent hour of yoga, followed by a welcomed mug of tea with a dearly missed friend. Now it is soothing sounds from Bon Iver, a perfectly ripe, ruby coloured plum, feelings of flittery excitement and the prospect of a chilled pint surrounded by the evenings warmth and good friends.

Big Chill excitement

Following a surprise phone call with a long-lost friend, Sarah Parker, the opportunity of assisting with the creation of something quite wonderful was presented to me. Sarah is going to be bringing to life the space within the maze of the Ziggurat of Flavour at this years Big Chill festival. The giant black and white pyramid which has been imagined and realised by Bompas and Parr the Jellymongers, is going to be brimming with confusing optical illusions, weird and wacky patterns and depth-defying compositions. Being asked to help with this brilliant project is extremely exciting as I sure the days of installation will be filled with much hard graft, tears, tantrums, giggles, smiles and achievements. Look out for the giant jelly at the top of the hill!

St Pauls Carnival

Just over two weeks ago (when it was still nearing tropical temperatures and the sky was crystal clear blue) St Pauls carnival took over the streets of our neighbourhood. The original Notting Hill carnival, celebrates the Afrikan Caribbean culture present within Bristol and has grown to become an annual street festival since 1967 when the first party took place. The weekend was a wonderful one full of colour, drum beats, bass beats, red stripe, bbq chicken and rice, dancing, sun kissed faces and laughs. I found this beautiful old film in my Mum's garage when I was last home and came to the conclusion that probably had similar age as myself. Not expecting much from it, I popped it in my camera and took it out with me whilst dancing on the streets. Admittedly, the results were most definitely under-exposed, grainy and blemished, but with a little time and love from Adobe Bridge they have gained a little light and colour.

Testing out the rat race

Being involved in the early morning commuter scramble at first made me feel like I was part of some cool kids gang. One that I always observed at school, aware of their presence but never to be part of it. This one never promised to be a fun, healthy one, but a sense of solidarity and belonging looked likely to begin with.

I started my commute at 8am and by 8.31am I had boarded my train to London Paddington. It was at this point a reclined back into my lonesome traveller state as the members of this gang were not ones to be envied. Straight faced, silent suits; hamsters at home on the wheel; ladies shuffling at high speed in their power-dressing, feet crippling stilettos. How are you supposed to run or cycle or jump in this ridiculously restricting items of clothing? Each day should bring an unknown adventure (not always life changing, but something to take note of none the less) to ensure that one precious day is never photocopied and repeatedly distributed. I will not give into this gang warfare. I will have an adventure today.