Notes
A poem, a painting
I like to pretend I accept the ambivalence of landscape but really I expect some subjectivity from it. I want its blessing, its confirmations, it’s healing powers. I want the right configuration of hedges, trees just so.
A selection of charcoal drawings from last year now available
Music on heavy rotation or nice new finds.
A choir sings in a field, faces pointed up into the encircling darke night. Each voice is like a dove issuing forth into the star-holed firmament.
Barn Wood is full of wood anemones, a patchy blanket of expectant white faces pointed towards any break in the forest canopy.
On the shore that first day were ocean-pocked plastic buoys, steel oil drums, nylon rope, hemp rope. A toilet seat.
Music on heavy rotation or nice new finds.
Music on heavy rotation or nice new finds.
A two day trip east at the tail of last year to Suffolk and Norfolk
Dust doesn’t settle here but thickens the air like cornflour.
Music on heavy rotation or nice new finds.
A Severnland circular
Music on heavy rotation or nice new finds.
I spent the last afternoon in November walking around and around Wells Cathedral.