importing happiness

My iTunes said "importing Happiness" this morning, which I thought was a good way to start the day.

It made me smile.

Friday's work pattern is "work Thursday until already Friday morning, set early alarm. Work all day against immovable deadlines and then finish late."

May need superhero assistance.

Chihuahua

I couldn't help thinking about Taco Bell today, what with the story about Gidget's demise. We have a sort of ritual when in the US to pay a visit to a Taco Bell somewhere and usually manage to mis-order significantly and wonder why so many different things in shells arrive.

I'll admit I sneakily like Taco Bell, yet when they temporarily opened here around Leicester Square they didn't last long and don't seem to have returned.

The big Chalupa was clever marketing adding "¡Yo quiero Taco Bell!" to my limited Spanish. Their 'Taco Light' was pretty clever too, with the small print 'Not lower calories' ... although I always thought their 'thinking outside the bun' with something called the 'Plug Club' was an unfortunate choice.

infinity nets are the new black

Sometimes the blog posts just write themselves.

The pictures from yesterday of the trees wrapped in red with polkadots are part of a famous Japanese artist's metaphor about reality and infinity. The idea is that the dots are where an infinity net overtakes the reality we all see. It could be like seeing into the atoms of the structure. Seeing behind the everyday form.

Once its in the subconscious its another form of pattern recognition, like noticing masonic eyes and Triangles.

The thing that really surprised me today was seeing a woman in a black dress with Yayoi Kusama's polkadots. She was on the same train and I couldn't help notice the three sizes of dot, just like the ones in the infinity net.

Kusama famously first suffered from mental illness around the time of the first dots appearance and still today is a voluntary patient in a Tokyo mental hospital.

『ディクレアリング インディゴ』 キット登場！

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.