"Non, je ne regrette rien"......

I could say that all my pieces have been wrapped up and put away, to bed down, gather dust and maybe one day see the light again - when I have big walls and high ceilings...I did have a house like that once. But no - already one of my sculptures is sat in the White building at Truro College waiting to once more be scrutinised by the public. So I appeal to any body who just so happens to be at college next Thursday 25th  to stroll over to Tresillian building between 12.25 and 2.45 and have a look and a vote on what is displayed before you. All items on show follow the themes of equality, inclusion and diversity. The next piece to be separated from the mob is one I composed on canvas, this will be shown at the Wheal Martyn Museum May/June as part of the Jack Clemo conference.

I am having to go back on my word - and squash it back down to where it came from - the poems promised to be published on this blog from the exhibition will not be now. Reason: the many months drafting these poems will never be regained and I feel at some point I would like to submit them for future publishing and invite the rest of the minority of poetry lovers to read them. Placing them here on this white blank box will remove any right I have to say they are original pieces, I hope the photos don't give too much away. It is not to say that I will not be exposing new poems, short stories, and a whole host of other words that want to play, this blog is now born, it's alive and will have to be fed on a weekly basis.
I will be sat with the lovely Sue Farmer next Friday afternoon on Redruth Radio describing my experiences of the exhibition and thanking those of you that took the enlightened approach to poetry and many of the artistic mediums used: appreciate the work or its not worth getting out of bed..unless I use that as my next conceptual piece? It rings a bell though....

I would like to invite other people to send me poems to post, but not willy nilly! I would like to receive poems 'correspondant' style, any subject. So french to open, french to close...this always happens in spring...Brittany is calling...

Where have I been?

Well you might well ask! It has not all gone to plan regarding getting the public interacting here in my blog world....
Explanation - the Internet was down at the gallery so whilst I was there all day setting up the exhibition with my lovely assistant Ros I could not record events as they unfolded.
We made it on time and even had an hour for a quick break for food and lots of tea, then it was back to open up for the preview. In all honesty I didn't have the turn out hoped for but the people who did support the exhibition made the evening a joy, so thanks Sam, Phil, Luke, the couple from 'Whitemoor' and a great big thanks to Charlie and Dan Radcliffe for their support. But heh out there to all the artists from the press gallery - support the gallery, support the artists - we need to encourage a healthy creative community in St Austell and it starts with all the artists going that extra mile, or just a quick trip into town...'unison' is the key word.
So onwards to Redruth and now it is all installed in the libraries gallery and looking good. The space is fantastic, each piece can have its own area to settle and give the reader the room to contemplate. The dates now have been extended at the Cornish Studies Library to Thursday 11th April, and I shall be around for poem discussions whilst packing all the pieces up. In the meantime here are some shots from the galleries....

 

Just a mention to the great exhibition at 'Heartlands' from the John Harris Society, please go along to support this and see some fabulous contributions from the first years on the FdA English Studies course at Truro College.

 

 

 

 

 

Bind and Bound poem

Copy and paste into translation wiget on links

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Radio Blah Blah.....

Did I feel like I talked a bit of nonsensical tripe on Friday afternoon? Interspersed with reading my poems out loud, which incidentally I believe I'm getting better at, some sensible and enlightening comments might have been made - thank goodness for Sue Farmer, what a lovely lady... I would though like to be able to gesture more in the future  when performing my poems which is impossible at the moment as I tend to become rigid like a board when reading my own work. Ah those memories of school, Shakespeare and John Keats's - apparently I murdered their words - stone dead, their souls wailing in the playground as my unaccomplished vocals grappled with pronunciation. Confidence, wine and good friends around me, that helps and on that theme I'm reminded of today's date - two days to go until opening. Its getting a little frayed at the edges (me?) but I am checking everything over and over again; you would think I was on the operations team for NASA, no clipboard though, back of hand is good enough...

I have been taking some sneaky shots of sections of my pieces as I work....so here they are...tempted?
Well you know where they'll be and everyone is welcome.

Next post will be live and throughout the day so lots of people will be contributing...interesting.....

Here it comes......

Like a freight train down the track! Yes it's count down time and that's seven days from tomorrow....
Today communication has suddenly burst back into life and slowly my mind is settling again. Set up dates and times for Cornish Studies Library are confirmed and I will be manning the gallery in St Austell on the Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday (25th - 27th March) for extra viewing time.
Many thanks to Martin and Amy from the 'White' building at Truro College for assisting me today, the easel is great!
Tomorrow I'm on Sue Farmer's show on Redruth Community Radio sometime between 3.15 - 4.30pm and I will be reading one of my exhibition poems live on air, and so the real exposure begins.

The latest flyer from 'The Old Press Gallery' is out....

 

 

 

 

 

Short...unsure...but still....

it's one of those tidy up posts, to brush up all the bits and bobs that occur when you believe you've wasted a week on nothing substantial. Well I'm going to throw that metaphor into confusion by telling myself - 'Rubbish' I have actually achieved rather a lot. Photo shoot with Charlie, goosebumps and all! pictures surreal, a very real statement. Countless emails (and repeats of emails) to people regarding promotion. Sue Farmer from Redruth Community Radio was on my list this week, an email went today. Her show 'The Written Word', Friday's 3.30 - 4.30 pm, is perfect for a plug in the right direction. I really want to talk about how much Kim has supported this exhibition. The descriptive pieces for each sculpture makes sense, not an easy task,both sets of surveys are drafted and proofs checked by both venues.
On a more reflective note, time for contemplation is short, and I'm unsure: is my work deep enough or consistently surface styled (that's a definite no, minimalism I can't do, but would you make a cup of tea without the leaves in the bag...?).The ideas are solid and the poetry is by far the best I've given to my friend and foe 'word'. I have to remember that this is not art alone in just the visual sense. I want each piece to be enough to hold the attention, the novel can lead the reader like a symphony...is the poem the poor overture?
I have never attempted an epic piece of poetry, it is better when I separate my poetry from my short stories, the endings fall and settle as they should. Whereas my poems rise, fall, rest and rise again like breathing, it is a process which is the same every time. The end can come if it needs to or it can pause infinitely, the subject getting tired of my observation. Every theme has a character of its own; I would say its almost like interviewing the subject whilst the object appears busy but aware. Odd, but imagination must be, should be? All I have to do is try and hold on to the ropes of technicalities, form, movement etc... moulding my creations like Ovid's Prometheus, 'From such rude principles our form began' but it is not man that is revealed in my words, but there once was a toad.......

Opening night, late nights, shells and hairspray.......

I've used half a large can already, hairspray that is, and still my charcoal smudges. I wait upon further ideas fellow artists out there....
I gave a tub full of beautiful shells a bath a couple of nights ago; when they are dry I will begin to burrow through the layers of calcium carbonate to find another poem.

Last Tuesday evening (12th Feb) I attended the preview evening of 'Lightlines' to witness the two screens of photographs and poems parallelled to show and speak to the visitors.

Tom said: "We haven't asked photographers to illustrate poems or poets to respond to photographs. Instead, we all gathered at Trebah on a single day in late November, and particular areas of the garden were assigned to poets and photographers. The results are stunning: a version of Cornwall's most beautiful garden transformed through the photographers' visions and the poets' imaginations. One of the best things about teaching and studying at Falmouth is the opportunity to develop collaborations between different creative disciplines, and this is a great example."

Tom Scott had compiled all our poems into a A4 booklet - I'm still slightly overwhelmed and remained a quiet observer on the night being surrounded by experienced published poets. Ros was on one side (beautiful flowers and now fully bloomed, thank you fab friend), my husband on the other; so apart from winching at my audio attempts I was bursting with pride. It was very sad to hear about Rodger, I will remember him, eyes closed and intently listening to the poems read out that day.

 

Pondering over my presentation to the first years, I started to wonder how my brain was functioning with the constant hopping from academic study to writing creatively. Is it artistic to compose a qualitative survey? As another evening slipped on into the darkest recesses of the night I doubted that any poetry would ever come out of my curdled mind again after this endeavour; then I delved around, my curiosity wandering through a lecture on music, a book on a 'Wider Sky' and a diary entry or two from dearest Woolf and the wisps of words began again.

 

Six pieces done, my back to expose and a bowl of soil to set with PVA.... What wild ecstasy....