Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Twisted into place

I had been wandering through the collection at the museum all morning, looking at countless works of art I’d only seen on screens. The originals had less effect upon me than their printed and digital copies ever had. I couldn’t event bring myself to take more than a brief glance at work I had loved so much in my student years. I figured it was time to leave and made my way to the exit.

As I pushed the door my hand opened out and left a full print on the glass. I felt myself pause for a moment before I stepped out into the rain and walked down the sloping road toward the ferry port.

The ferry drifted into view. The bow of the boat contacted the jetty and twisted into place. I stepped onboard and found a dry seat inside. On impulse I checked my phone but it was already flat. Unsure what to do with my hands or eyes I turned to the window. The boat was passing a fun park. It was busy despite the weather, filled with people being thrown around and dropped from great heights. From a distance they seemed to be living easy lives without any burden or sadness.

Monday, June 15, 2015


I started writing music again, after years of not writing. I wrote this a few days after I got home from a trip to Stockholm. The skies were different there.

Dead Umbrella

Sunday, June 14, 2015

Hey Internet

It's been about three years, I hope you are doing well.

I woke up this morning feeling tired, and a little bit ratty from too much travel and work. But I had the strange urge to write a blog post, (maybe it is some strange old survival instinct kicking in.. or vanity, or both). I remembered this old blog I used to write. Looking back over some of my old posts made me want to pour a little bit of bleach my eyes . It's the same sensation as hearing an old recording of your voice, it never sounds like you think it sounds.

I figured rather than try and post everything that has happened over the last few years I would you post a small and intimate thought.

Here goes:


I still work in the arts, I still organise, make and curate art. I have done this in a grown up environment for more than half of my life. Art is hard (in my experience) because it pushes you, demanding something from you before it will offer any reward and it reserves the right to fail (and start again).

How many times have you wished you could let something fail and start again?

(Image taken from a recent (successful) collaborative work The 404th wall)