News

 

 

This long, glorious summer continued for most of the month, although there were inauspicious thunder storms towards the end, which reminded us that autumn is around the corner!!

 

In the meantime, the English countryside is at its harvest-like best, with ploughed fields and spacey landscapes.

 

  

 

 

I spent a week in Somerset and really just hung around on the veranda – cooking and reading – since it was so hot. Again, some nice sunsets over the Severn estuary.

 

   

 

 

A real Somerset pub as well, selling real Somerset cider – quite rare to find these days.

 

 

   

 

I went up to London on the 12^thfor the unveiling of the new gravestone for William Blake. He is buried in Bunhill Fields in the City, a dissenters’ cemetery, and one closed many years ago. Since 1927, there has been a stone in the cemetery to him and his wife, but not actually on the site he was buried. The site was hit by a bomb in the war and just repositioned for convenience.

 

 

 

So, it has taken some time to track down the actual site, which was finally identified 12 years ago.

 

 

https://www.theguardian.com/culture/2018/aug/11/how-amateur-sleuths-finally-tracked-down-burial-place-william-blake

 

 

 

It turns out that Blake is buried with seven others, as was the custom in 1827 when he died, and that he was the fourth one down. Anyway, a new stone was commissioned by the Blake Society of St. James and duly cut by the stone cutter Lida Cardozo.

 

 

 

There was much celebration, with singing and poetry – a thousand or so people attended. One piece sung was a new composition by an Australian composer Chris Williams: ‘I give you the end of a golden string, Only wind it into a ball. It will lead you at Heavens gate, Built in Jerusalems wall’. I made an impromptu recording:

 

 

 

Of course, the actual Jerusalem poem from Blake’s prophesy Milton was also sung by the attendees:

 

 

 

I did not catch the first lines, so here are the complete words.

 

And did those feet in ancient time

Walk upon Englands mountains green:

And was the holy Lamb of God,

On Englands pleasant pastures seen!

 

And did the Countenance Divine,

Shine forth upon our clouded hills?

And was Jerusalem builded here,

Among these dark Satanic Mills?

 

Bring me my Bow of burning gold:

Bring me my arrows of desire:

Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!

Bring me my Chariot of fire!

 

I will not cease from Mental Fight,

Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand:

Till we have built Jerusalem,

In Englands green & pleasant Land

 

 

Of course, these words of this poem, which is much loved by the British and sung almost as a national anthem against the music of Parry, were written when Blake was desperate – ‘Albion is sick’, he declared. And, still so, it seems….

 

 

 

Then away to Cyprus – a beautiful island:

 

 

 

Lots of nice food and company with my ex-student and her family.

 

 

 

Cyprus is a land of castles and churches.

 

 

   

 

 

The latter have some of the finest Byzantine religious art in the world – 11^thto 15^thCentury. Each of these churches is a world heritage site!

 

    

 

 

Then, Roman archeology as well with, once again, world famous sites and finds – like the mosaics going back to the 4^thcentury BC.

 

 

   

 

 

 

I also spend two nights in a swish hotel:

 

 

Lots of fun.

 

 

The Proms are still on.

 

 

 

I was lucky enough to catch Daniel Barenboim with his West-Eastern Divan Orchestra, made up almost entirely by young Israeli and Palestinian players.

 

 

 

 

The programme included Tchaikovsky’s D major violin concerto, Scriabin’s Poem of Ecstasy and a new contemporary piece – Looking for Palestine – by David Robert Coleman. The soloist in the Tchaikovsky was a young Georgian-born violinist Lisa Batiashvili who had a beautiful fluency and tone. So, this month’s CD is her explorations of pieces by Prokofiev, which I bought at the show.

 

 

 

 

 

Two books this month, both based around Australia. The first is Peter Carey’s novel set in the 1950s where a couple embark on the Redex Trial – a brutal car race around the edge of Australia. It is full of lively characters with something happening every sentence; behind it all, though, is both the racism incipient in Australia, and the tensions and contradictions its past gives rise to. It ends up summing up the essence of contemporary Australia: ‘What may seem to be the signs of madness might be understood by someone familiar with alchemical literature as an encrypton whose function is to insist that our mother country is a foreign land whose language we have not yet earned the right to speak’.

 

 

    

 

 

 

Somewhat as if to prove the point, the second book is the artist Rod Moss’ extraordinary account of living around and befriending Aboriginals in Alice Springs. It is a book that both romanticises and de-romanticises the aboriginals – their art, language and behavior. It kind of shows what they were, what they have become, and what they might still yet be. It is impossible to idealise their situation, really a direct result of having their land taken over by English colonialists who pretty much affected an ethnic genocide. The English declared it Terra Nullis – belonging to no-one!!! Present day aboriginals fight all the time and get drunk. Domestic quarrels routinely involve physical violence and hospitalization. Most Aboriginals are killed by other Aboriginals, and they exact a harsh ‘Old Testament’ revenge on groups and individuals who offend them. Others get condemned for associating with the wrong sort. If ‘the bone’ is shaken at them, they wither away and die. The women carry stones in their knickers to protect themselves, and the men weapons.  Most die before seeing out their 50s. Yet, they know the site of every rock and its significance; they spot hidden animals with razor vision, and can kill the same with unerring precision. Yet, attuned as they are to the land and animals, children still torture the life out of creatures with a cruel fascination. Of course, the ‘Dreaming’ is all and everyone’s place in it. They can communicate across great distance by crackling paper and they announce their arrival by cracking a twig. As a character in the Carey novel asserts, people just don’t get it: these guys do not do linear vision, they see the whole 360 degrees as one!!

 

 

 

Summer weeks and we have been treated to Mediterranean weather. It does happen, and time to enjoy it. So, the season to get out in the sun and enjoy the many musical and cultural activities on offer this time of year.

 

But, first to France, and Saintes near La Rochelle. Good to reconnect with the French language and to sink into their way of life. Whilst I was there, I visited a couple of chateaux: firstly, for a historical tour and some music and, on another night, a play by Molière – a lot of fun.

 

 

 

 

 

Also, a very unusual thing: rock carving in the cliff faces in the country there: Les Lapidiales at Port d’Envaux. The rock is very soft so easily sculpted and, certainly, the pieces are each highly original and spectacular. I mean, some of them must be twenty feet in height and all pertain to quite mystical and legendary narratives. People come from around the world to work there. At the time, there was a well-known artist from India who had won various prizes – quite spectacular.

 

 

    

 

Some theatre – the two ends of the spectrum. First, a performance at the National Theatre in London of The Lehman Trilogy, which told the story of the rise of this German Jewish family who went to the USA in 1848. They started with nothing and eventually built themselves a banking empire. As such, it was, of course, also the story of the rise – and fall! – of capitalism. All acted out by just three actors who played everyone: men, women, children, young and old.

 

 

 

 

The other pieces was a production by the local amateur dramatics company of Noel Coward’s Present Laughter – a typical piece of English light comedy/ farce. Perfect for a summer evening.

 

 

Lots of music happening. I kicked off my first of five visits to this year’s Proms in London with Mahler’s 8^th Symphony – the so-called ‘symphony of a thousand’. Certainly, with two orchestras and three choirs on stage, it was full. A big sound made for such a big hall. One of Mahler’s most positive pieces which celebrates earth creation and redemption – interestingly, it was also the most positively received when it was first performed in Vienna in 1910.

 

 

 

 

 

Then to the WOMAD festival of world music, art and dance. I think this was my 30^th WOMAD event since 1981.

 

 

Over the years I have seen it evolve and develop – sometimes working from a very poor resource base – I remember the stage being on fruit boxes at one festival – to the top-notch media event.

 

 

I also used to cover it for music magazines in my journalism days. Indeed, my whole love of global music really was ignited by my first WOMAD gig – at the ICA in London. There were two performances: first, by Aboriginals; secondly, a seven-piece West African Drum group. Ekome! It certainly opened my ears. I had never seen anything like it.

 

 

 

 

Art too – the Summer exhibition at the Royal Academy, London. This year under the heavy influence of Grayson Perry. He certainly gave it a light-hearted and even frivolous air – perhaps just what you want for a summer show. Fun!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lots of reading and music listening, but to pick out two of my favourites, for reading, I would choose Annie Ernaux’s The Years – a beautifully written account of her life from 1941 until 2006 in France – eventful years: the war, 60s, 1968, socialism, neoliberalism. She really uses all sorts of literary tricks to convey the sense of time passing and the way her view of the world changes. Sometimes, an event, sometimes an image, sometimes a story or commentary. Yet, the overall sense is one of loss…

 

 

 

 

Lots of music came my way at WOMAD, but I am going to pick out Dobet Gnahoré’s latest Mziki.

 

 

High octane West African sounds of a second – er’ third? – generation musician. The only thing I would say is I wish they would not restrict most of the pieces to under three minutes. Ideal for radio plays but not really in keeping with the style of music which can extend the grooves indefinitely.

Into June, and already it is midsummer. Latterly, some amazing Mediterranean weather turning English grass yellow. Nature is in advance of us and the baby birds have been and gone – the summer solstice is passed. Downhill now to the Winter solstice and when the sun begins its journey back to the earth – or, actually the other way around. So, there is a sense of change and maturity in the air. Nature moves into a fullness:

 

 

 

 

The schools are soon out – festivals and holidays. Already plans afoot for autumn and even next year.

 

I travel across to Dublin, Ireland for a few days – quite amazing, sitting outside in the grounds of my ex-college Trinity with the sun setting:

 

 

 

 

The Liffy and the Halfpenny bridge look a picture:

 

 

 

 

Then, I am back and immediately into the People’s Vote for Brexit march. I say ‘People’s Vote’ but that seems to be the main tactic at the moment and most of what I heard and saw was more that calling for a vote: more sort of calling for the whole thing to be called off. The march was good-natured. Still, there were six police officers with machines guns across the gates – behind the gates! – as we crossed Downing Street. So, an indication of the state of modern democracy and its sense of vulnerability.

 

 

 

I began learning Spanish.

 

 

 

 

 

I figured that with all these trips to South America, I needed to be more proficient than I am in Spanish. Enjoyable and, knowing French, it is interesting to note the similarities between Spanish and French/ English. Many words are the same but then others are completely different. I mean, where does ‘usted’ come from???

 

 

Things are hotting up academically as we reach the end of the university year here: students are super active. I also did a conference paper with my student friend Lisa. She has been working on using Bourdieu as a way of generating historical fiction. Pioneering stuff this!!! Anyway, a fun day in Winchester:

 

 

WinchesterCarniva2018jpg

 

A rather good performance of Macbeth at the National Theatre in London. With everything going on in the world, these plays, of power and corruption, take on a new significance.  This version cast light and dark, black and red, and managed to be both period and contemporary. The main character was full of doubt, as befitting of the plot in which he had go involved. This meant one had to really concentrate on the words, which are always dense with Shakespeare, but was a welcome change from the rather bombastic style that is often adopted:

 

 

 

 

Lots of books and sounds pulling me in various directions this month. Of my reading, I particularly liked Haruki Murakami’s ‘Men Without Women’ stories – his first collection for some years. Despite its title, the stories all relate, with curiosity and humour, to facets of contemporary loneliness which, paradoxically arise from human interaction:

 

 

 

 

Of my listening, this is the time for summer sounds – exotic global music and Prom classics. However, the one CD I really enjoyed was the compilation of Willie Watson’s music. His is a country folk / blues style and, unlike most singers, he is pretty much content to record himself just on his own with instrument and little or no backing. I particularly like his use of claw hammer banjo and his clear Southern American draw of a voice.

 

 

 

My favourite it Dry Bones – a strange prophetic piece:

 

 

 

This made me think of John Fahey’s literal ‘re-visioning’ of the same piece, which kind of shows where he was at in terms of his synthesis of this music within an altogether different ontology:

 

 

See: http://www.michaelgrenfell.co.uk/music-n/john-fahey-interview/

This month has flashed by, as I attempt to catch up after South America. It is spring: actually, May and June are about the only months that I can tolerate in the UK. It is even warmer here than Mendoza – which gives me a certain amount of pleasure!

 

My apple tree blossom is out, promising a harvest of apples later this year.

 

 

Immediately, there are lovely new foods to enjoy. Like Asparagus, which I enjoy with new potatoes, butter and an egg. Strawberries too!!

 

 

 

 

 

My first book to be translated into Portuguese comes out. Very proud. Excellent translation from Fabio Ribeiro of Sao Paulo, Brazil:

 

 

 

I manage to do quite a lot of art this month. Mostly, I am critical of the curration. One has to remember that people like me – academic – get as much pleasure from criticising art as enjoying it. And, this time, there is plenty to object to.

 

First off, Tacita Dean. I like her work a lot. It seems always very elegiac. Her film about the lone around-world sailor Donald Crowhurst is a marvel. A story of ambition, fakery, heroism, and tragic death: http://www.tate.org.uk/download/file/fid/6559

 

 

 

 

This time, she has an extensive exhibition occupying no less than three London Galleries: National Portrait, National, and RAA. I enjoyed it, and there focuses on Landscapes, Portraits and Still Life.

 

 

All very good, but this sort of contemporary art is a bit like contemporary music: it is best encountered in small doses. This makes it more concentrated and focused. As it was, I found the three gallery span a bit ambitious and, finally, diluting. Her work can be so spectral. But, here, it is a bit underwhelming.

 

 

 

 

Second, off to Cornwall, and a major show of the expressionist, Patrick Heron at the Tate. He was a leading light in the 1950s – 60s and put St Ives on the map as it were. He was also a writer who was able to articulate what they were trying to do. For a while, St Ives was the centre of the international art world.

 

 

 

 

 

Heron with John Wells – another St Ives artist – and the American art critic Clement Greenberg in my home village of Mousehole:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Actually, the show is good with many pieces from the family vaults rarely seen. However, again the curration is absurd in that they mix up all the work over four room: so, basically, four rooms of mish-mash with no sense of chronology. Not that each room does not have titles like: Edge and Space. But, it is all the same for Heron, as if the spectator could not work that out.

 

 

Thirdly, Hummadruz at the Newlyn art gallery, which was completely barmy as far as I could see.

 

 

 

The title pertains to an audible ‘buzz’ that is apparently heard as a background in Cornwall on occasion. But, the exhibition was a mix of art from feminists over the past half century or more – give or take – with a whole bunch of pagan artifact, which would not be out of place at the Boscastle Witchcraft Museum.

 

 

There were even ‘anti-men’ spells that the viewer could take away with them to enact. Sadly, my friend Ithell Colquhoun’s work was also represented, although why I do not know.

 

 

The Nine Opals.

A mess, basically.

Still enjoyed it: But, a complete misrepresentation and misappropriation.

 

Whilst down in Cornwall, I took in some lovely walks. Like Trencrom Hill with its spring: the cleft in the rock takes the sunset light at midsummer.

 

 

 

Magnificent sunsets as well.

 

 

 

A trip to Madron Holy Well:

 

 

 

On my way back, I visit the Japanese Garden near Newquay. A special place:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Invited to the Family and Friends rehearsal performance by King Crimson – in preparation for their forthcoming European and Japanese tours. Some new pieces – mostly instrumental and jazzier. Quite an amazing ‘run through’.

 

 

 

 

I have been reading:

 

The Order of Time by Carlo Rovelli:

 

 

 

 

And, listening to:

 

Zsofia Boros’ Local Objects:

 

 

 

Apologies again, if this posting takes on the flavor of ‘holiday pix’ – but images often speak louder than words, and I have been ‘on the road’ in south America for the past five weeks. The descriptive travelogue would take up very many pages indeed. So, here is a fleeting run through some of the impressions and experiences of this time – I have aimed to include material not posted on Facebook – plus a round up of some reading and music.

 

 

The stay began with a special event that Lucho was organizing where the city of Mendoza was invited to switch of all their lights as a gesture towards ecology – ‘save the Planet’. Candles were lit and a lovely atmosphere prevailed.

 

 

The next event was a Musica en Moviemiento Introductory course. Excellent team here and some very good work.

 

 

This being Mendoza, a trip to the local vineyards was never far away:

 

 

 

I then ‘decamped’ to Salta – a town in the north of Argentina.

 

 

A further journey north then took me to Humahuaca, saturated with indigenous Indian culture.

 

 

 

 

And then a meet-up with two of the MEM team for an even more spectacular trip to Cafayate.

 

 

The Devil’s throat and Amphitheatre – reputed gateways to the underworld and cosmos respectively.

 

 

 

 

Again many indigenous signs and myths to get hold of.

 

 

 

This lead to a Dr Mike transformation……Dr Who?

 

 

Also some time to search out some contemporary Argentinian art:

 

 

 

 

 

 

A special trip to Samsi – the Yoga, Tai Chi cenre established and managed by one of the MEM team – Vijaya – these past 23 years!!

 

 

 

A honour and a pleasure to meet the team there, eat and speak with them.

 

 

 

 

Could not resist this photo of fast food – Argentinian style.

 

 

 

A trip to Buenos Aires – a great city.

 

 

 

This trip took in a concert of the British group – Radiohead. Spectacular!!

 

 

 

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6iajXJIp_eU

 

Pizza with Lili and Lucho at 03.30 in the morning!!

 

 

 

Also a visit to La Boca – a coastal port where the first immigrants arrived

 

 

 

 

 

– and tango was born!!!

 

 

 

My favourite photo of the trip:

 

 

 

I posted a recording of the lecture I gave in Mendoza last November – with concurrent interpretation into Spanish.

 

 

 

Lots of reading and listening to music along the way. For music, some traditional Argentinian chanson – beautiful songs:

 

 

 

I need to improve my Spanish, so my reading was firmly English based: one philosophical and the other fiction.

 

The philosophy is one of those books that one comes across every now and again that seem to pull together and sum up the current direction of one’s own thinking.

 

 

 

 

 

The fiction was actually a translation of Esther Kinsky’s book from German – very much in the style of W G Sebald. A very elegiac account of a woman walking the outskirts of the city – London, but other places as well and images joined across time by the presence of water and the river. Very poetic – part psycho-geography, part dream-like, part Bakhtinian carnivalesque:

 

 

We gave another Musica en Moviemiento presentation:

 

 

 

https://www.facebook.com/musicanmovimiento/

 

Lots more eating outside – but autumn was turning in out there,

 

 

 

 

 

….so time to catch up with the English spring…..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Usually, I post my ‘News’ report a few days into the following months. However, this time, I am posting it a few days early into the preceding month. This because I know I shall be travelling here and there a bit, and not much time to sit and consider with the system open before me.

 

 

Also, in order to break the pattern a bit, I thought I would do a ‘special’ art posting, since I have done quite a few exhibitions in the past few weeks.

It began with David Haughton at the Penlee Gallery in Penzance. Not a name I had really come across before. It seems he ‘discovered’ St Just in Penwith after he moved to St Ives, Cornwall in 1947. Anyway, he appears to have had an epiphany there  and he spent several years painting and drawing not much else. The work had every lane and road of this small village/ town perched up inland from Cape Cornwall. He joined the Penwith Society of artists and exhibited with the best of them, but it was an epiphany that had its drawback as this work completely overshadowed anything else he did after he left to teach in London. Still, interesting stuff.

 

 

 

Another Cornwall-based exhibition was the new one at Tate St Ives with the theme: ‘Virginia Woolf: An Exhibition inspired by her work’. The paradox was that it included some great pieces of art from female artists. However, it was not clear to me at all to what extent Woolf came into the show, or indeed should have. Just sloppy curating in my view. Also, some rather over-exaggerated remarks about Ithell Colquhoun and her network of associates. I have no evidence IC ever read Woolf let alone was influenced by her.

 

Incidentally, my article on Ithell Colquhoun is now published.

 

http://www.michaelgrenfell.co.uk/art/ithel-colquhoun-painter-and-magician/

 

More London shows…

 

First one of epic proportions by the German photographer Andreas Gursky. It is difficult to suggest the scale of these pictures on a small screen. They tower above you with clarity and colour. Of course, we are talking about photography in a ‘post truth’ world, so they have all been ‘doctored’ to exaggerate certain aspects of the pieces – various figures repeats, re-positioned, and other elements removed. They suggest that what we see is not what exists, amongst other messages. Sometimes they are fun; at others there is a gaping silence when confronted with the essence of a situation, now distilled out into sharp relief.

 

 

 

 

 

Two cracking shows at the Tate Modern:

 

Joan Jonas and her incredible installations: again, we are talking ‘post human’, ‘post feminist’, ‘post truth’, indeed post post…..’

Each one brings you face to face with an angular aspect of life.

 

 

 

The Picasso exhibition displays work from a single year 1932. I went thinking I had seen it all before and was again completely balled over by his level of creativity – and in some many different forms and media. Kind of humbling as well when one thinks about what British artists were doing at the time – he was moving so fast!!

 

 

 

Then, Tacita Dean and things ‘about to disappear’. She really brings a kind of spiritual regard on both the mundane and epic. One almost ends up looking at one’s own ‘looking at’. Very moving.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Book reading is Karmic Traces, which does the same sort of thing in writings.:

 

 

 

 

February is know as a wicked month: this year came in like a lamb and went out like a tiger. So, all was well and we were chugging on to spring – flowers arriving in the garden, etc. – when the ‘Beast from the East’ struck and then danced a merry tune with Storm Emma. In practice, this meant, sub zero temperatures for the last days of the month and then intense snow for the very last day. It was the speed and intensity of the snow that hit me. I left the house in Cornwall saying, ‘I did not believe it’, only to be in a crisis snow situation 30 mins. later. I then had to abandon my car when I lost all control of it. Luckily, I was near a farm and got to the house after a little walk. Then, frozen up for a few days only to be hit by high rains and winds of Emma.

 

 

 

 

 

 

So, Lent, and a time to give up things – but not food with this climate. Not just yet.

 

 

 

 

Earlier in the month, my neighbours – Caroline and Marc -celebrated the arrival of their first child – Martha – into the world. Photo has me with holding a baby for the first time ever!

 

 

 

I managed to get over to Berlin for the Guitar Ensemble of Europe’s guitar courses: Intermediate and Beginners. Good teams and a lot of work done. Snowy there too, but some nice lake side scenery.

 

 

 

 

Played this rather lovely Ovation there – loaned to me by Hernan Nunez.

 

 

The chairs seemed to be radioactive!!:

 

 

 

 

Back to London and the Modigliani exhibition. Quite impressive; although after the Cezanne portraits, these seemed a bit derivative. Still, he did fashion his own recognisable style, and surely stuck to it through a series of portraits and still life figures. Once he had it, however, that was pretty much what it was/ is. That being said, he did die at 35, so we shall never know what else he might have done.

 

 

 

But, it was School Half-Term!!

 

 

 

 

Off to the theatre and Harold Pinter’s The Birthday Party, first performed in 1957. In those days, it was badly received and shut after a week or two. Now, however, it is seen as a modern classic: a kind of mix of Beckett, Kafka, Agatha Christie and Ben Travers. So, farcical in a very noir way, and focussing on the way we use language to subjugate each other. Also, the way memory is refashioned to suit our wants. A stunning performance from an acclaimed cast.

 

 

 

It is the 100th anniversary of the death of the French composer Claude Debussy. So, I have been listening to his wonderful chromaticism; especially in his solo instrument and quartet work.

 

 

 

 

Also, reading Julian Barnes’ latest: The Only Story.
He has really matured as a writer in recent years. He always was a good story teller, but now he adds a new depth. As in recent books, the themes include memory, the impact of singular events on life, the nature of love in its glorious manifestations.

 

 

January comes in gently with sun and storms – it is an incredible mild winter here – no need to light my lovely fire yet!

 

A bit late with this posting because I have been in Berlin – about which, more next month!!
January the 6th – Epiphany. An important day for me as it is around now that we notice the light strengthening. It goes on for the months and, by the end, the days are noticeably longer. Birds begin the sing – nature is moving to Spring, even if humans are talking about ‘winter’.

 

                         

 

Busy writing with one thing and another, but I take a trip over to Chichester to see the David Bomberg exhibition. A gifted artist of many styles, who is another example of someone who was not really appreciated in their lifetime. He is most original and insightful in his early ‘vortices’ pieces, but then took every which way looking for success, even some fairly straight takes whilst staying in Israel. And, then a wild, late period – almost Turner-easque.

 

 

 

 

                               

 

 

A delightful day visiting in Worcestershire and then to their Cathedral to view the Via Crucis tableau, each based on the Stations of the cross. I had previously encountered them in Exeter and Bath, so it is somewhat of a ‘pilgrimage’ to follow them from one holy site to another. Now they move on to Hereford Cathedral – and then after??

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Been listening a lot to Purcell…

 

 

 

 

 

 

…also re-reading the works of that extraordinary English writer, Bruce Chatwin….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In a way, it has been a short month as the last News posting was mid-December; I realise, then, that I have already dealt with half of last month’s news – the last weeks of my time in South America (Wine tasting and guitar course).

 

However, the Christmas period is always a busy time, and I seem to have hit the ground running. The next day after my return I was in the university and then off on a one-day Satsang with Satyananda. I am going to transcribe my dialogues with him for the Satsang section of this website. The two sessions will be called: Freedom of Thinking and the Anatomy of Consciousness. Coming soon – just as quickly as I can transcribe….

 

 

It was also my birthday. I go to Bath for one of my favourite walks, and it is a lovely sunny day. The light here in December is so crystaline.

 

 

 

 

 

And, so we move to the Solstice – as always, I sense the change immediately: the sun is now returning to this part of the world.

 

 

 

 

Not so evident though on stormy coasts with the winter to come:

 

 

 

 

Whilst in London I see a couple of exhibitions. Firstly, one at the British Museum – a remarkable show on the Scythians, who were tribes in Siberia around 2 – 400 years BC. Fascinating people who left a treasure of jewelry and other artifacts which show the lives of these nomad, horse based people. In fact, it offers us more than what we have from similar times in the UK. It also demonstrates just how sophisticated they were, and the beliefs that orientated them. Unsurprisingly, the sun was an important god to them.

 

 

 

 

The other exhibition was of Cezanne portraits. Truly amazing and sets out how he was pretty much the father of modernism – that is before Picasso and Braque, etc. And, he seems to have accomplished this just by repeated and intense observation of the human figure. He certainly predates people like Spencer and Freud in his capture of the spirit of individual sitters.

 

 

 

 

 

So, Christmas! I elect to spend it on my own – a quiet time to reflect and indulge oneself. I make it super traditional with a tree and lights/ candles.

 

 

 

 

 

The Christmas day meal begins with salmon, then it is the traditional roast, and Christmas pudding.

 

 

 

 

 

The thing then is to settle by the fire and read. We have a tradition here of murder and ghost stories at Christmas (not sure why!?), so again I indulge in some of these. They are always of a certain cosy tradition – nothing too horrific, more intrigue in terms of the twists and turns of the plot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

However, given the very troubled times we live in, I also decide to ‘regroup’ a bit – intellectually, that is. So, a somewhat light hearted account of where this all began:

 

 

 

 

 

Lots and lots of Christmas music, but one of the finest is of the gospel group, The Blind Boys of Alabama singing traditional Christmas songs. Sublime:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bit of a strange month, as I was away for much of it ‘on the road’ in South America – Chile, Brazil, Argentina: basically, a mixture of some business – lectures, meetings with students/ publishers – and pleasure (more later).

 

But, first, I was down in Cornwall, and still pursuing the antics of surrealist, occult painter Ithell Colquhoun. Like, this rather lovely painting of the ‘Goddess of the Moon’:

 

 

 

 

 

Somewhat different was the extraordinary modernist icons of Jasper Johns in London: most famous being his various US flags and targets. Good stuff, but like so many abstract painters, he seems to have had a purple patch and then lost his way somewhat.

 

 

 

 

At last, a sympathetic and appreciative review of my biography of Ralph McTell – by Peter Landon.

 

 

 

When I set out to do this book, it was clear that I had to find a different sort of coverage since Ralph had written so much about his early life, and also another have covered the same from the standard journalistic approach. I also have to admit, that I was interested in bringing a range of my own interests and explorations to the topic, all whilst having at the core a straight, and affectionate, consideration of Ralph’s life and times. The approach to offer various layers was meant to create a ‘discursive montage’. As a result, linearity is avoided in certain sections. The reviewer says that because he cannot understand some of the language – and calls it ‘academic’ – this could put people off.. I suppose I would ask what might be an alternative response?: for example, like digging deeper into some of that language in these sections and finding out what is there. In other words, why blame the author for something the reader is not prepared to do? Especially, as one and all admits, these bits can be skipped and the main conventional parts focused on.

If this disturbs the normal expectation that the author tells the reader what they should think and offers a way of appreciating the nature of one’s appreciation of Ralph’s work, well, that was intention.  Putting it together, does the reader better understand the life and work in an integrated fashion’? As Peter Landon writes, ‘You may not have been through the exact same experiences, but you could well recall the same historical events. You may well end up, as I did, with an even greater appreciation of Ralph’s work and a better understanding of your own position and how you got to be where you are today’. Exactly!! Thank you Peter.

 

http://www.ralph-mctell.co.uk/index.html#pl2review

 

Sorry if what follows has the air of ‘holiday snaps’, but better have a visual round up than me waxing endlessly. So, I shall keep comments to a minimum.

 

First I am in Brazil – and a first Brazilian ‘tasting menu’ thanks to my contact there Fabio. Do not ask me what they all were, but they sure tasted good: various combinations of spice, fruit and other exotic ingredients.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I get interviewed by both the TV AND Radio.

 

 

 

I also get to choose one King Crimson track for the rock show. I choose Frame by Frame:

 

 

 

 

Then, a chance to explore a Brazilian book shop and purchase some CDs of Brazilian music.

 

 

 

 

 

Airports are the same the world over:

 

 

 

 

In Argentina, and a visit to the 7^th highest mountain in the world: Anconcagua. I arrived in 37degrees of heat, but it snowed this day!! Luckily, someone was able to lend me a coat.

 

 

 

 

A trip to Santiago, Chile, the university and a chance to see the remarkable Icelandic band: Sigur Ros:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Well received.

 

 

Lots of fun with pals Lucho and Lili:

 

 

 

Mike gets into the Matte:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some fairly spectacular scenery; including where valleys have been flooded for the generation of electricity.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Still hot, and I take a solitary meal; but soon acquire a companion:

 

 

 

 

 

Speaking of food, there was Lucho’s magnificent Paella – cooked over hot coals in the garden:

 

 

 

 

And, more scenery:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In between, visiting the local wine vineyards: apparently, there are some 2000+ in the Mendoza area.

 

 

 

 

This lady was so enthusiastic about here wine: she said it contained the whole of life – in fact the different blends were named after her husband, father, children, etc.

 

 

We end up with a fine guitar course in a lovely setting..

 

 

 

 

 

 

On my final day, there is a magnificent sunset.

 

 

 

Walking up the road, and we are ambushed by ‘the kids’ yelling, and they gather for a farewell photo.

 

 

 

Like Trauffaut’s ‘les Mistons’, they could not understand the adult world, especially when I just sat and read a book when there was swimming, bike riding, football, TV, shouting, trampolining, etc.

 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Les_Mistons

 

Oh, yes, and taking great relish in disturbing my reading!!

 

 

 

A lot of fun, though.