ascension of polkadots on the trees

Out amongst the ascendant polkadot trees of the South Bank, where Yayoi Kusama dreams of infinity nets morph into another universe.

We'd decided to meet in Gabriel's Wharf and three of us spent an evening watching the river and chatting about our recent adventures over beers, buffalo mozzarella and roasted pepper salads.

Its later that the impressions from Kusama's earth, sun and moon dots trick back into the mind as a reminder of reality edges.

I am so sorry. Goodbye

Barbican with some typical group lateness before the Sunday gig.

Not me this time, though.

I had time to sample the hibiscus tea of Heather and Ivan Morison's Escape Vehicle Number 4 as part of EXYZT's plans for a changing planet.

The glazed dome on the top of the structure creates a spaceship allusion and the whole device can become a vehicle to transport one away in time of trouble. The conjoined domes are inhabited by a guardian whose task it is to keep the stove lit, water boiled and visitors supplied with hibiscus tea. The guardian has the vocabulary of the words: I, am, so, sorry and goodbye.

Across the way in Dalston, the emergency urban psychoanalysis commando unit, UPIA, are making an investigation into the urban unconscious of the city.

Results next weekend.

Harry Potter scenes cut

We all know that there will be more films from Harry Potter than there are available books. They are cutting the last novel into two parts for filming.

But it's the current one where we see first significant editorial decisions to meander from the J.K. Rowling storyline. I won't say too much, because it wouldn't be right to spoil it for fans, but they've chopped a couple of significant book sections and added a linking scene to gloss and explain it.

If course, this give more time for the scooby snacks between Harry and his new best friend as well as Hermione's special moment. My own thinking now is for the screenwriters to play around with this a little more in the next volumes. Kid around more with the Ron & Lavender, for example.

As rashbre central, its important to mention the extensions of London coverage with tube lines and the now surprisingly scary Millennium bridge, alongside a few Night Shyamalan bleak outposts and cornfield moments as well.

Anyway, plenty of dark tasks and dark secrets and dark caves and general darkness. I've always preferred the spirit of the films to the books, so I quite like the thought to create a little controversy around variation of storyline for the closing three.

be glad for the song has no ending

The bent twig of darkness grows
the petals of the morning
And shows to them the birds singing
just behind the dawning
Come dip into the cloud cream, lapping.

...and so do others watch the dawn. We will be with them tomorrow, Barbican bound.
Pass the finger cymbals.

And as my cloud pulled out of view,
There come failing down a gentle shower of rain.

Happy rain come failing down,
Red, green, blue and golden.
And every drop, as it fell, it smiled
And, throwing back its head, began singing,

"Oh float with me to distant lands, wondrous and fair;
Float with me to distant lands, wondrous and fair."

Ting.


(Click the picture to download the programme)

uninvited guest

I see dawn creeping away, walking like a dream in this early morning light.

Not stippled white stripes of four, but a crimson slash of five before choosing first attire.

Now is the time to walk with this guest before rowdier elements define daylight.

elemental sandwiched tryst and travails

Yesterday I mused that I'd get some elements upon my skin today as I headed across to Canary Wharf for some meetings.

I sure did.

Brilliant confident sunshine as I started the journey; then blasts of air swirling the skyscrapers of the wharf making walked phone conversation difficult, a pause to admire the river before ferocious rain storming with horizontal lightning shards and coin sized rain bubbles frothing from the pavements.

Sandwiched between fire, wind and water.

My earthy moment was whilst I spent a few subterranean minutes in a sandwich bar - such is the design of much of the Canary Wharf complex.

Sandwiched between two sets of people.

To one side were the couple who had broken free from a nearby tower block for a tryst in a darkened corner, with much curling of arms. To the other side was the yolky salesman working extremely hard as he explained a fantastic story to a hard-boiled recipient about how life would be so much better if product X was added to the portfolio.

For the first couple, anyone could spot the intensity of a new lovers' relationship. A less clear cut story in the sales scene though. The eyes and facial gestures of the salesman suggested the hard fought story he was telling had a few fabrications along the lines of 'what does this guy want to hear'.

I could be wrong, about both, of course. But it was my one of my elemental moments in the day.

more blurred london scenes

Another day where I've been purely desk-bound working on the same thing that I was doing yesterday. I actually started at 06:00 which gave me a sense of achievement by nine thirty. I was on my second expresso as other people were sleepily clearing their in-boxes from last night.

And then later I had an afternoon of those hurdle type meetings, most of them in 30 minute successions.

Munich, Houston, London, composite, Milan, Paris. You get the picture.

Low carbon footprint because I didn't have to travel to any of them. The rest of the day has passed in a blur again.

Tomorrow I shall step out to somewhere by the Thames to feel some kind of element upon my skin.

nine o clock and matisse is going blurry

I've spent the whole day since quite early logged onto my computer moving lots of boxes and squiggles around as well as producing sufficient wordage to make it all make sense. But it does seem to be proceeding at a snail's pace, compared with my expectation.

I just looked at the clock here which is around 20 minutes fast and noticed it already shouts nine o'clock in the evening. It feels to me like it should be around five thirty and I still have a bundle more things to do.

My reason for this short pause is whilst I old-school print the story so far so that I can take a malicious pen to edit it into something more sensible in line with my deadline.

I'm not sure I'd call what I'm doing art, but I'm getting a sense of the need to stand back from it and not to get bogged down in detail.

Henri Matisse did this when he asked his assistants to help him assemble his own interpretation of a snail which is hanging on the walls in the Tate.

I notice that if you walk up close to it, you can still see the writing on the underlying paper square where he overpainted the green.

dancing in the dark

We made it to the festival by late Sunday afternoon, giving a chance to move from a weekend of work to a little fun and games.

Taxi ride from train station dropped us into a world of dayglo paints, unexpected tu-tus and stalls selling herbal remedies. A tex-mex later and we were ready for anything. Well anything except the strawberry dacquiri angostura rum drinks which froze my head after two sips.

But there was music and banter and then a big grin from the sun. We danced through to the dark and although the weekend had arrived late, at least it finally felt as if there had been one.

punctuation from a working weekend

In truth, I've had to do a fair amount of work this weekend, interspersed with modest unsatisfactory television grazing and a spot of (well received) cooking on Saturday evening.

Apart from that it's been a rather quiet weekend, although not one where I feel particularly recharged because the working part has blurred it into a 'working from home' weekday sensation.

Right now I've decided to put everything work related away, checked the weather outside (now sunny again) and to find myself heading out to make a late appearance at a music event. It's somewhere in Surrey and will involve varied transport.

At least there will be some punctuation from the working week and I'll head into the proper office tomorrow.

destructobase or 2010 Torchwood competition?

We need a Torchwood competition...now read on...

Like many, I watched the Torchwood series this week, not as a fan exactly, but as one who expected some good plotline compressed over a few days. I thought the idea of aliens using children as drugs was sufficiently evil, if somewhat Matrix-like.

The original trade of 11 of children back 40 or so years ago and the later consequences was clever thinking although I had a bit of a problem with the step change from a dozen to millions as the next logical increment. They must have been passing the kouchie an awful lot back on that tentacular planet.

The stock film of London Town and Cardiff got a large airing though, for the location signposting. Perhaps a spot of Michael Mann/Spooks editing would have compressed some of this to good effect. I suppose the HD viewers could wonder why the streets were both traffic jammed and deserted at the same time.

And speaking of Spooks, in that series they are fairly cavalier with their lead actors, expending them whether or not the replacement character is already in view.

The difference with Torchwood is that it has a broad fan-base including many from the Doctor Who environs. So the snuffing of a lead like Ianto after a couple of others were erased in the last series leaves a conundrum if the series is expected to go anywhere further.

The gender politics of the series was also something of a vanguard and this has no doubt suffered a few setbacks if the plan is to keep Torchwood as a brand.

Slightly more into the storyline, there were some interesting ideas dealt with quite rapidly - I know many have been used elsewhere, but there was sufficient to keep one guessing:

- keeping the thunderbolt space alien landing in London almost secret
- handling the chanting kids as a kind of bemused news static
- self interests around deciding who to protect
- children being used as alien drugs
- the essence of the trade ‘just 12’ turning into ‘ten percent’
- resolving who gets selected (the epsilons, of course)
- the lack of challenge of the decisions
- the tiny coterie of involved individuals
- the obedience of the military
- the good ol’ “reverse the polarity of the standing wave” moment
- the final sacrifices to resolve it
- no ‘not really dead’ resolutions (except Jack)
- the blemished hero

Maybe Russell T Davies and co have decided to shut down Jack on earth. Perhaps he is about to go intergalactic?

So here’s my suggestion: I think the BBC could have a fantastic coup now to open a competition to rewrite the last episode of that series of Torchwood.

A different ending x 5. Public submissions and then professional scriptwriting.

Start the petition.

Parallel universes anyone?

Oh - and let's not forget the other space aliens with proper space ships that landed 27 years ago and have been holed up in District 9 in Southern Africa.
Click to explore the zone


And good prequel mini-doc here:

amphibious for linear and non-linear space

A small joy of quietly sitting drinking a coffee today was reading a random discarded magazine, which had the intriguing front page story about amphibious aggregation of non linear rights.

I decided to look at the pictures instead and worked out its something about the excellent 'Green Wing' being re-shown on telly.