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Monthly Archives: September 2010

distance

there must be a distance at which you forget someone, as well as through time. distance is everything and time irrelevant if you are a visual type, and we are. but let us take a pause and appreciate google earth because now i can see my brother, at the foot of park guell in this [...]

not empty!

‘alight’

is the most beautiful word in england. come to rest after flight, to arrive at by design or by chance, illuminated. used a thousand times a day in its antonym ‘the underground’.

leaves colour people double

my feet are cold for the first time in four months, since last winter ended, so i went out in search of orange leaves. not much to say really, else we would be overwhelmed by metaphor. there were trees and leaves, children doubled in the afternoon pub and pigeons became stingray in flight. let it [...]

bath

lighter and more affluent, is tiny Bath in the hills. it is very cute, Bath. the day included a spa, much wandering, crab sandwiches for lunch, falling asleep in the sunshine on a soft green hillside. the town and its streets are intact and full, completed in a way larger towns and cities aren’t. but [...]

please don’t hate me

a sudden realisation occurred to me at a talk about london tonight; that most people hate architects and, more, urban designers. i am naive for not understanding this earlier, but it is not the same in australia, and, evidently, so clearly the case here in england that architects and their discussion frameworks avoid at all [...]

from seed

and sprouting in unhappier times , now growing and climbing into the long term garden. the first flower appears just as summer makes a last gasp at another grace before vanishing into a faint memory. In psychotherapy you become quickly aware of your own mental doubling act. a vivid emotion is evidence of a wish [...]

and another one: autumn leaves, a silver box, venetian mist. improbable that these elements quietly coalesce, autumn emerging from a silver box and the mist overwhelming both so that they seem only reflections and trickery.

another impossible island, almost submerged in tasmania.

tourist

lido, market, front seat of top deck of bus, another market, a very very empty turbine hall, circles of people watching other people pretending to be statues, covered in facepaint, cameras, large wheels, bens and bridges, palaces, parks, picnics. And, finally, the calmness of wolfgang tillman’s show at the serpentine gallery. so understated, large photos [...]