Throwback Friday #80 Two Bowls (2011)


Taken back in the Summer of 2011, these photographs capture a very particular atmosphere of a favourite place. To create the soundtrack for these images, I’d need to combine the gentle – sometimes raucous – clucks of dusty, restless chickens coming from the farmyard next door with the buzz of a nearby cicada. I might include the whispering of the leaves in the line of poplar trees at the bottom of the hill, and the buzz of wasps, hungry for the sugars produced by the scant grapes on the old vine. Much harder to convey would be that special dry heat blowing in through the open shutters, sometimes bringing with it neat convoys of swallows, the birds circling the glass lamp before darting quickly back out of the window.



Throwback Friday #76 Whitstable Kite (2013)


As the sun slinks lower and the evenings start earlier, I’m contemplating the prospect of winter with a touch of melancholy. Back in the high Summer of 2013, my friends and family paid Whitstable a visit, and it was all fish and chips, wind-burn, and the flying of kites. I look at these photographs today, and even though they are black and white and somewhat dramatised, I remember the heat, the way the noise carried across the shingle, and what a bloody nice day it was.



Throwback Friday #75 Glint (2003/4?)


Another song, written years ago, the tune for which I’ve long since lost, likewise the chords, though when I read these words, the ghost of a melody is playing in some other small room of my inadequate memory palace. This ditty is upbeat and defiant. I was obviously feeling less heart-broken when I wrote this, and imagining for myself some kind of more dynamic trajectory. Looking back on these songs is like looking at a photograph of myself and not really remembering where I was at the time, or what I was doing, or who I was with; a snapshot, yes, but poorly archived. One day perhaps, I’ll return to some of these phantom songs and drag them back into their corporeal form.


glint

i’m like a clock – tick tock – i’m like a clock that got stopped
like a pocket watch, like a pocket watch dropped
and my face got knocked and my hands, my hands kept still
I think it’s killing me, this time to kill


like a rocket-ship – dan dare – i’m a rocket-ship docked
got fins, big fins, but my rocket-ship’s locked
I can’t pull free, my countdown freezed, by gravity
I can see the stars but they can’t see me

chorus
but something in me is coming to be
like the crest of a wave on a listless sea
i’m spreading my wings, i’m leaving this nest
don’t look for me here, I won’t be with the rest
i’m that glint in the sky, hey, you keep the pie
the waiting is done, it’s my turn to fly


like a summer storm – flash bang – like a summer storm soon
got fire, enough fire, I could light up this room
but the horizon’s dark, though the air is charged and my heart’s in sparks
but let the lightening strike, let me make my mark

chorus

like tnt – stand clear – like tnt sticks
got a fuse, a short fuse, got a switch I can flick
my dial’s in the red, I’ve been juiced, I’ve been fed
now it’s my turn to lead ‘cause I won’t be led

chorus


Throwback Friday #74 After Metropolis (2020)


Something from the not-so distant past this week: a moody-looking scrap from the work I produced in response to one of our earliest Kick-Abouts, taking Fritz Lang’s Metropolis as its muse. These images resulted from first producing a series of architectural pencil drawings, then photographing those drawings as curved or folded surfaces, before finally collaging the resulting photographs digitally in Photoshop.


Throwback Friday #73 Staircase (2016)


Another spooky little something from my one long night in the Summer of 2016, spent within the palatial environs of No. 351. I enjoy the cinema of this particular image; you can almost imagine the team of set-dressers coming in to ensure the peeling wallpaper is peeling ‘just right’. This is the stuff of movie posters, and the covers of those Fontana books of ghost stories from back-in-the-day. This is that big book of Unexplained Phenomena we had on our bookshelves when I was a kid, still playing out in my imagination.