Preparation...

Sea Piano Fret from Lucinda Wells on Vimeo.

I'm making new work, lots of it as it happens, as it happens.   Been rather hectic here by the sea for months on end, time's been flying and an uncountable number of waves have crashed into or gently nudged the shore during this period.  Rather than me having to learn how to get around the problem of bandwidth for website video streaming the problem has dissolved as clever web developers now give me a nice little piece of code to use instead.  I find this more often than not, this leaving a problem unattended for long enough that a solution appears, although don't take that as a piece of advice - if you have a problem that needs sorting out "use your loaf" as my Mum would say and get it checked out before deciding whether to leave it.  

This video is a collaboration with my dear Mum, she who plays piano by ear (and her fingers).  It has since evolved into something else which will be accessed soon via QR code to be found where else but the seafront.   And that too has evolved into another thing else, both the QR code piece and this most recent one can be seen as part of Telling Stories: Hastings...

Telling Stories: Hastings

Where does the time go?

Text language circa 1950

Kan-u-go it alone?  Of course you kan.

This is what I saw in the Ensign

It's been quite a while since I worked with black and white, 12 years or so, and I'd forgotten how thoroughly satisfying it can be.   The little Ensign Greyhound has worked a kind of magic for me, spitting bits of its internal dust and whatnot onto the the film as it wound its way through the camera, the effects of time affecting the image during the making.  I'm intrigued by how it seems that the modern film used couldn't compete with an ethereal memory retained within the mechanical parts because the results look as though they could have been taken decades ago, perhaps at the time the camera was originally produced for the mass market.

Fortunately I know a brilliant person who very sensibly has retained all their darkroom kit, uses it regularly and very kindly developed the film for me since I'd forgotten how and had given away my kit years ago (thanks Alex Brattell).  Ironic really, since my storeroom is so full of stuff that it's barely possible to get into it.

Check out the viewfinder

Yes the whole thing looks kinda ugly, but trust me it's beautiful.  It's an Ensign Greyhound camera. I'm hoping that this gorgeous piece of engineering is going to reveal something interesting.  Strangely the above is already interesting because it's a scan and yet the only thing in focus is the viewfinder.  Perfect - in my mind.  The image in the viewfinder reminds me of the landscape I see every day.

January

Thinking

After what feels like months of mostly processing, my cerebral cortex working overtime with short bursts of exploratory photography, at long last the work is emerging and becoming coherent.  It will be another combination of moving and still image, the one above isn't included but is part of the exploration. 

Obsession

Travelling regularly backwards and forwards to Leicester my obsessive nature was drawn to a particular line of trees and to another more randomly placed set.   One was orderly in every visual aspect, the train from which they were viewed plodded along, they were neatly spaced, had beautiful round shaped domes on top of elegant trunks.   The other appeared completely in disarray with tall bent trunks and straggly, shaggy windswept tops and often hardly made it into the frame as the train was the High Speed.   I photographed both sets over and over in a compulsion that came from deep within me, the images lie condensed as pixels within an external hard drive, unvisited, unused and becoming a fading memory along with the journey to Leicester.  One day I'll resurrect them and make them into the video I see in my mind.

For now though my sight is taken up once again with the sea, remember Sea Piano Fret?  My obsessiveness has turned its attention back to the waves.   I've watched them for years now, at night when the moon is full it casts an electric blue light as though rushing through the crest when the tide is full, fat and seemingly slow.  I've watched them crashing into the shore when a man stands precariously on the concrete groin opposite my window.  I've dreamt about them.  Lately I've been watching them up close, fascinated by the fact that some do actually seem to be retreating from the land, while others appear to want to devour it.  

I'm not the only obsessive one, of modern day observers of the sea here are two: Susan Collins set up webcams across the south coast and observed the tides roll in and out pixel by pixel.  Catherine Yass made the film 'Lighthouse' (the Royal Sovereign Lighthouse located five miles out to sea off the coast from here and visible from my windows) disrupting our spatial awareness with the camera movement, I watched it again and again. 

The sea right now is ever so slowly revealing some of its secrets, it's a bit scary though.  Placing myself in precarious positions and catching myself jumping with fear at just the right moment to avoid being consumed by it is no fun and stupid at best.   I found a copy of George Knight's 'Photography Hints & Tips' - the special limp edition of 1971 which expressly tells me on page 34 'At the coast' ... Take great care of your equipment on the beach, and protect it from sand particles and salt spray by keeping everything (yes - the ever-ready case as well!) in a polythene bag; never leave it lying in full sunshine, whether it is loaded with film or not...  Well I've exposed my film-less, bag-less equipment to salt, sand and sun and hope to goodness it'll still function once those evils have done their worst. 

And after all that scariness (I'll show you that later) here is a relaxing, gentle shot.

Tut, how did that happen?

  Time to get another website.  

 

Testing, testing

Working hard again - heart heavy, hope it doesn't implode before I'm ready.  Let's make it lighter and have some fun.

I like exploring.

Playing.

Finding out.

Life is a dream, isn't it?  Anyway?

Hope David Francis doesn't mind me posting this since it's his playing?  Ace Dude.

Sediment

This year has been a bit like stepping off unstable sure ground and leaping onto a highwire tightrope wearing flippers.  Without any intention, I was in danger of becoming the pavement version of Philippe Petit.  Following life cycles with a flat tyre rather than a taut life line.  Various visits to various locations has grounded me, surprisingly.  Beachy Head is one, I went there again to capture the sea - crazy idea, how can one capture the sea in all it's majesty - impossible.  I spotted a group instead.  Captured them while I could.  Later I ventured to the beach - not the one at Beachy Head, having no head for heights - but my beach, the one that's close to me, capturing a smaller version of the sea...

Intern, Inter, Interrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, indeterminate

http://www.salon.com/books/int/2011/05/29/intern_nation_interview

Thing is it's happening here too.  Let's 'employ', selectively, a load of young people for no wage giving them the hope of a job or career: sometimes it does lead to paid work and sometimes it doesn't (they can presumably only do it if they have parents or a patron who will fund their living expenses through it, unless they have their own savings but if they've studied it is likely they haven't  - so it becomes exclusive).  How has this idea come about?   What about those people who have no-one that can fund them?  It doesn't feel right.   It feels wrong, wrong, wrong and it feels like exploitation.  Minimum wage (which is bad enough) flies out the window - no wage is the new hip thing.  And what message does this send to these young people?  What will they expect from younger people, for free?  They'll be the future employers and what will they say: 'well I did it and now you can but times have changed and you will need to do it for longer (your whole life even) to prove you are worth my trust (investment) in you'? 

Ever since I was ejected from a fairground ride I've avoided them.

Having gone again for change/flux/excitement/fear despite my primeval aversion to fairground rides all manner of ordinary things need addressing: these are my bookmarks from the laptop that needs to be returned.  Because I've 'bookmarked' them presumably they had or have a resonance with me over the last few years.  They are in date order of bookmarking, so the last is the most present.  Some I haven't visited in years.  Some are visited often.  In a partial way they catalogue my interest over that period. 

http://www.yahoo.com
http://www.msn.co.uk
http://www.lucindawells.co.uk
http://www.dmu.ac.uk
http://www.tvguide.co.uk/
http://artistbooks.ning.com/profile/RuthShawWilliams
http://lucinda-wells.blogspot.com/
http://www.yh485press.org/
http://www.apengine.org/
http://www.andyfoulds.co.uk/flash_design.html
http://www.forteantimes.com/features/fortean_traveller/156/snorris_hot_tub_reykholt_iceland.html
http://greg-lucas.blogspot.com/
http://www.antiqbook.co.uk/boox/colle/102525.shtml#
http://www.sheldrake.org/homepage.html
http://www.fourcornersbooks.co.uk/JetAge.html
http://www.memorymegastore.com/logoutuser.asp?logged_out=Y
http://hatters-domain.blogspot.com/
http://silencesprung.wordpress.com/wp-login.php?redirect_to=http%3A%2F%2Fsilencesprung.wordpress.com%2Fwp-admin%2Fusers.php&reauth=1
http://schmid.wordpress.com/
http://www.thebreastcancersite.com/clickToGive/home.faces?siteId=2
http://jades-photography.blogspot.com/2010_01_01_archive.html
http://www.facebook.com/
http://www.publishandbedamned.org.uk/
http://www.1000wordsmag.com/
http://www.kenwilber.com/blog/list/1
http://www.youtube.com/ytscreeningroom?gl=GB&user=ytscreeningroom
http://www.artquest.org.uk/
http://noplace-xxx.blogspot.com/
http://www.electrocomics.com/weekly/weeklydata/Blegvad/html/en_Blegvad46.html
http://www.ohiomagazine.de/
http://www.p000m0000.com/
http://mubi.com/login
http://books.google.com/books?id=zunn9VqsHQ0C
http://www.rhubarb-rhubarb.net/
http://glenjamieson.blogspot.com/
http://ow.ly/user/Lucinda_Wells
http://vimeo.com/user2289957
http://www.proamimaging.com/
http://www.unity.org/prayer/prayersAffirmations/healingPrayerAffirm.html
http://www.neromagazine.it/n/?p=3609
http://www.ubuweb.com/
http://www.hotukdeals.com/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wizards_Project
http://www.celiahammond.org/index.php?module=pagemaster&PAGE_user_op=view_page&PAGE_id=23&MMN_position=32:32
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=deiWnZK-duM&feature=share
http://paulocoelhoblog.com/2010/11/14/character-of-the-week-gibran/
http://www.rnli.org.uk/who_we_are/press_centre/videos/video_detail?articleid=612976&category=-1&region=-1&mediatype=video&listing
http://www.wonderhowto.com/how-to-do-shake-uke-180365/
http://www.ukuncut.org.uk/
http://www.youtube.com/user/MusicTeacher2010#p/u/35/pJme1gtN1SM
http://www.presstv.ir/detail/158770.html
http://www.blublu.org/sito/links/links.htm
http://inmotion.magnumphotos.com/
http://www.openculture.com/freemoviesonline
http://www.indiemoviesonline.com/
http://mediastorm.com/
http://www.kinoblatz.com/html/films.html
http://www.shortfilmfests.com/content/passing-through
http://robinhoodtax.org/how-it-works/everything-you-need-to-know
http://audioboo.fm/
http://www.satellitedirect.com/?hop=ndmuscle12
http://www.foxyinks.com/
http://huss.moonfruit.com/#
http://www.wix.com/potearooms/tossers
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QTprkPg9yVw&feature=related
http://soundcloud.com/groups/jawdance-photography-competition/info
http://soundcloud.com/reinventing
http://doctoruke.com/index.html
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zJ26H1G_1eA&feature=related
http://www.esotericschool.net/
http://creativecoast.blogspot.com/2011/05/project-at-stade-hall.html

Doing it anyway

I'll write more about this later...

http://www.applesandsnakes.org and Jawdance plus http://www.flickr.com/photos/applesandsnakes

Image courtesy of Alexander Brattell: http://www.zetetic.co.uk

(in response to Alex's image)



  Approaching 50 Flat Out by Reinventing

Change, change, exciting, scary, daunting, energising, exciting change

So, I guess you won't be wanting your usual then?

Life goes in cycles and that's the truth (in my experience it is approximately every 7 years).   Then there's the push and pull of things that adds to the mix.

I probably won't quote anyone tonight.

Sadly, what can't be seen clearly in this image because I was laughing too much when I took it, is the writing on the label that says 'Air bag missing'  - well I don't know about you... yes, there are airbags in my car, but in my bra?  It's an interesting thought.  Or an interesting fact.  What if it suddenly inflates?   Then explodes?  Some massive surgical procedure no doubt to remove the implant that has fractured multi-dimensionally all over the shoppers in Waitrose.  Or worse still, implodes: what then?  Something resembling bullet holes the size of two small pizzas.  All for the sake of a pert uplifted breast.  Girls, girls:  Do not buy these goods, they are flawed with terrible possible outcomes.

Changing the subject entirely (really?) and going back to the original impetus for this post: the idea of change.

Why not accept graciously who and what you are and where you 'fail' and where you are 'good', why not?  Collectively we promote fail and good with people, this notion has age groups ranging from about 3 all the way to whenever, if ever people give up the problem of judgment from other people.  Being human I too struggle with this and the effect is continually trying to match up to other people's ideas, that really sucks.  Because isn't it true that everyone else is just as awkward and clumsy and finding their way as we are?

So a real bit of twaddle tonight, my life is changing - I'm embarking on a new and unknown path - I won't be using airbags.

It will all work out alright.

10,000 emails

I never got that many letters in all my life.

Expansion

I am de-commissioning my rucksack. 

It's all very well

Since I went digital I've got in a right old mess.  There are so many pictures, so many potential things to make, so much potential.  Too, too much.  The result is I have too much to sift through, to consider.  So I end up not doing anything with it.  I'm collecting all the time.  And have become overloaded.  The drives are full.  What to do?

Meanwhile I'm contemplating my options, learning the ukulele and listening carefully.  Considering Audioboo and other methods of getting sounds out there.  

Washed up

I've neglected this blog for a while.  It's due to having too much to do.  Too many directions being looked at.  I'm still making work but not sure where it's heading.

My time is taken up with worrying.  A useless exercise.  Although is it?  It's not entirely unproductive and it's certainly time consuming.

I've never been an Activist - always viewed them as very odd.  But now it seems even my ire is irked and so I've joined in.  I don't like it.  First time was in the snow, it was so so cold.  There were only maybe 20 demonstrators.  Almost matched by security and the police.  Some plain clothed who asked us our intentions, some uniformed up with batons and who knows what else.  One nasty one, in different gear, who tried to goad a protestor outside BHS of all places.  A tactic they (the police) used was to not allow the BHS customers to exit the store while we were outside.  Fairly obvious why: make the public cross with us.  And some of them were.  It's a crazy shame.  The police are going to be affected the same as the rest of us.  1100 jobs in Sussex Police are going.  Meanwhile we sang(? kind of) 'No cuts, no cuts, no public sector cuts'.   Which of course applies to the police as well.  Ironic.

Today was another day of participation this time in the rain, I wore a very fetching hat - one with a beak, and we kept it short - only an hour - the police still almost outnumbering us but the men in overcoats weren't in evidence (excuse the pun) and neither was the mean guy.  Maybe they've lost their jobs already and are joining the homeless on the streets because their benefits have been cut (they didn't like the job that was offered to them - BHS cleaner or the next two - runners in Barclays or Lloyds TSB - which means no benefits for 3 years).  They've defaulted on their key-worker mortgages and they can't claim disability living allowance at all.   Their working tax credits are up the spout and their kids have lost the EMA.   Those kids would have liked to go to university but the fees have priced them out.  They will have to live under the poorly pier in Hastings because the homeless funding has been cut, if they need an op on their baton operating elbow they'll be out of luck due to the NHS reforms (even the BMA are revolting at this one - imagine GP's marching - it's getting more like Egypt every day).   Thinking of that likeness leads me onto some more, how our police force kettled, beat and charged (not in the arresting sense) at people with horses.   And they're planning other similar tactics, if you've got the time to watch, by the way it is utterly boring: http://www.policyexchange.org.uk/events/event.cgi?id=285

And so, what about art?  Well that's being cut too.  Our govt doesn't appreciate it.  They don't appreciate anything unless it fits in their pockets or overloads their bank accounts with more dosh.  Then they love it.  Then they support it.   23 millionaires sat last week and deliberated over welfare reform.  Like they give a shit.  I don't think so.  If they did they'd stop getting rid of tax inspectors and go after the damn unpaid taxes of their buddies.

There's no need to feel down

Remember the Ukulele stroller, David Francis, embarking on his year long Sunday afternoon odyssey down Bottle Alley (previous post: Sunday 31st October 2010) in aid of the pier and all things beautiful?  From time to time I've made it down there too and very haphazardly played a kazoo, rattled my thunder maker, lit myself up and even squawked a bit (if anyone's heard me sing they'll know instantly what that means).   Gradually I've caught the bug.  

Just recovering from flu is rather appropriate here because today was to be the first venture into the Ukulele Sunday School, feeling a bit wan I sent a message to David telling him I wouldn't be attending - the reply: 'Do you have a doctor's note?'  Well, no.  No note.  No doctor seen.  What to do?  Being of Irish stock, the only possible thing to do was: Wrap up, gather together myself and the lovely new uke and drive to the stroll ready for the class. 

I'm really glad that there was no note.  Because I've learned quite a few since.  Met a large number of thoroughly excellent people of all levels of ability, all very generous and patient and extremely enthusiastic about the ukulele. 

Although David was only teasing about the doctor's note (I think) he did me a big favour. 

Now I can play:

(C) Young man, there's no need to feel down
I said (Am) young man, pick yourself off the ground
I said (Dm) young man, 'cause you're in a new town
There's no (G) need to be unhappy.....

Singing it is a whole other story.

Happy New Year: Peace and Love (yes, again)

Christmas Greetings : Love and Peace

It's in the timing

I have a mind to write about time.  Where does each moment go once it's passed?  Only fragments remain in our heads, reachable by those (invisible?) wires attached in our brains to memory or somewhere else perhaps?

My problem at the moment (these moments passing by and passing by on toward wherever they go) is that I have little time to focus on thinking or even researching about time because time is in short supply.  McTaggart's 'The Unreality of Time' becomes 'The Disappearance of Time'.  Impermanence and Unknowing cut through the order of events revealing them as shards that prick us on their journey through our moments.

Meanwhile, I am listening to Leonard Cohen's 'Everybody Knows' followed by 'In my secret life'...

Looking and trying out

I recently had the privilege to join in.  Not done that in a while.  Hermitville is where I've been living.  It's a strange life choice, the hermit one.  Little chance of getting feedback when you refuse to come out of your cave.  Muttering away there inside that empty place (apart from me) the only feedback your own echo which by its nature comes back as more muttering, only louder.  Quite a crescendo it can build up to, but fairly useless and ultimately rather boring.

So...

From this new place of placing a foot (perhaps even two) in the outside world I have met some really lovely, generous and interesting people and begun the process of showing work again.   It is gratifying and promotes more thinking, as if I didn't already know that.   The art of forgetting is something that comes easily.  Remembering takes effort.

The roll call interested in photographic interventions who permitted me in are Mary Morris, Sue Barnes, Lucy Phillips, Steve Rutter and Mel Brewer.  http://on-the-map.org.uk

Oh I do like to be beside the seaside (to a Ukelele rhythm)

Which apparently isn't far off a guitar one, but I wouldn't know not being able to play either.

The day before the pier burned down I was arriving in Leicester to the smell of smoke and thought to myself - there's a fire somewhere here.  It wasn't difficult to spot.

Waking the next morning and seeing a horribly recognisable burning pier on the tv, in the hotel room I'd been consigned to, was soul destroying.  Two fires, two days in a row but the one on tv made me feel really sick.  My pier.  The pier I've gazed at for years, walked on in all weathers when it was open,  drank on, danced on, admired and loved from a distance and up close. 

 
A whole agonizing day later I arrived home and followed the constant stream of people toward the awful sight of our (it's not just mine really) lovely but awfully distressed pier to stand with this continually fluctuating mostly silent crowd of people gazing at the the carcass of all our memories.

We British, despite our sometime appearances, are made of stern stuff.

As demonstrated today at 4pm.  David Francis, reclaiming a site of our dubious history from the degradation to which it's been subjected, and to celebrate our pier, began his year long odyssey of a gentle stroll, half a mile each week, down Bottle Alley which stretches toward and meets the pier.   Amounting to a marathon of Ukelele playing.  Singing all the while, accompanied by a band of like-minded Ukelele players, members of the public, a tea trolley and a mountain of cakes.

 

It's tempting at times to lie down

Lying down.  

Lying down can be a relaxing and strangely energising thing to do.   I happened to be lying on the beach in Bexhill because someone asked me to - as part of a simple yet terrific response to Antony Gormley's work Critical Mass at the De La Warr Pavilion by a group of artists working under the name of Runway.  Entitled Critical Mess.  Lying there and watching the sea at an odd angle was a new experience.  It is something that I will continue to do (lie down) and photograph, see previous image/post.  

We now have a critical mess of our own here in Hastings.  The Pier has burned down.  This view observed by the man in the collapsible chair, the couple embracing and the photographer with his tripod, taken just a few weeks ago no longer exists and I am so saddened by that. 

Let's look at this another way

Do you see the clouds as I do?

You are there and I am here and wondering: do we see the clouds in the same way?  The shapes and the forms they take,  their fleeting nature?  My friend gave me a book on clouds:  'The Cloudspotter's Guide', knowing that I have great views from my windows.   It's blue cover has gone bluer, the print's reaction to the sun's rays, placed as it is in it's obvious space next to a window.  A local bookseller must have gone to ground - all the books in his window have turned blue, even the yellow plastic designed to protect them has taken on a blueish hue.   It's quite a spectacle. 

Cirrocumulus lacunosus undulatus is something that particularly draws me visually.   Although to be fair most do apart from those damn dark flat grey ones that allow no sunlight through.

While taking photo's of clouds I'm reminded of my friend who dislikes the retinal photograph/image and conversely Alfred Stieglitz and Minor White: their interest in metaphysics and their attempts at making the photograph as metaphor or symbol.  Lynn Silverman too who photographed them and made them large (as if they aren't already).  Unlike Turner's paintings which were shockingly small, I'd always imagined them to be large having until that time only seen representations in books.  I am interested in how images of clouds become more like abstract paintings.   How, once their context is removed, they might imply something else.   The last but one painting I made might have been of clouds except it was vividly, lividly gyrating deep red, the last was blue and rising, it was about the sea where I'd finally landed.    Does the sea reflect the sky or is it more of a collaboration - so each reflects the other in a cosmic distant flirtation?

And then, in amongst all that dreamy retinal gorgeousness, my eyes are brought down to earth by the crazy eejit across the road who doesn't want his dog to look where the dog wants to look. 

Spot the difference...

Pants and all

It's been an odd day.

It started this morning (no I'm not stating the obvious) while driving past the beach opposite my home.  A crowd had gathered, I knew why but was still a bit surprised.  Paying little more thought to it I grinned to myself and carried on. 

Friday and Saturday's are my favourite days.   It's something to do with people beginning to unwind and relax - it's infectious.  And I trawl through my favourite shops (we call them 'Harrods') to see what someone may have recycled.  Virtually my entire wardrobe this year has come about through recycling - the trouble is, it's addictive and so now I find myself recycling stuff that was already recycled, without  wearing any of it.   My Mum tells me to see it as a donation.

After a full day of successful trawling (is it through living by the sea?) - the car was ditched a lot earlier - I'm heading home and there in the distance is still the crowd.  They are opposite the parish church, is that a clue?  What are they doing there, looking at, searching for?  Have they found a weeping virgin?  Or a new messiah swinging from the bottom of a chinese lantern?  Except, apart from the occasional glance at the church they are mostly looking out to sea - or is it at the beach?  Have they spotted ET? 
 

Why and for what are they keeping vigil? 

Later I take a walk to see my brother, there outside a new crowd, it's becoming odder, these people are wearing garlands of the sort they did in Hawaii Five-0. 

On my way home again people are still there, milling about or sitting and gazing in what looks like awe at the wall of the steps that lead up to the promenade from the beach.  Have I stumbled upon a brand new pilgrimage?

Neil Diamond's fans used to throw their pants at him.   Have I a new fan?  For there, on my balcony, are a pair of men's pants, yuk.  How did they get there?  Seagulls do not wear them.  It can't have been the wind this time.   It can't either have been the builder from upstairs (do builder's wear pants beneath the trousers that sit at least 6 inches below their waist when they bend down?), although he does often fling the last of his loaf from his window at the end of a days work.   He should have grown up with my Mum - she often told us to 'use your loaf' (as in 'loaf of bread' = 'head', Mum being a cockney) - he couldn't fling it if he was trying to use it.  The stupid man doesn't even break it up for the birds - why fling half a loaf intact - even the seagulls aren't that big.

I'm glad I wasn't sitting looking at the crowd when these pants flew, there's some recycling that I just don't do.