The metropolis revisited

Apart from the poetry walk and the writing groups we run, I haven't been into the centre of Bristol much lately; in fact, going there still feels like a bit of a novelty 'post'-pandemic. 

Another reason for not going there is because it's so bloody hard to drive around the place these days, thanks to stealth bus gates trialled when everyone was in lockdown that have been subsequently made permanent. I never thought I'd need to use a sat nav to get around my native city. 

I know something needs to be done about air pollution, but I'm not sure making people drive miles further to get from A in the centre of town to B, also in the centre of town, is helpful. I guess the intention is to make using a car so stressful people give up and take public transport instead, but nothing's been done to improve the service. I actually like going on the bus - they're great places to slip into the liminal space where poems live - but my part of town is served by a bus lane, which means cars have to make a considerable detour to cross the ring road - but no buses. Well done, Bristol City Council and South Gloucestershire.

One of the reasons I was in the centre of Bristol recently was to launch my new poetry collection, 'Learning Finity'. It was a small thrill to read the poem 'Fockynggrove' at the Folk House, which is built on the hill that went by that name in 1373. I don't have any photos of the evening, though - in fact, I have barely any photos of any of my book launches, and I've done six of them now. I'm always far too keyed up to think of recording the event, and everyone else is mostly getting stuck into the contents of the bar. Ah well. 

Another reason for being in town recently was for a school friend's 60th birthday tea, also at the Folk House - look at that selection of cake! I hadn't been able to park in either of my preferred car parks because they were full, and had ended up a fair walk away because there was nowhere to pull over to consult the sat nav on how to get to a nearer car park that can't be accessed via the most direct route any more. Still I did have a nice walk along the new cut. 

I also spent a morning dropping books into bookshops on the off-chance they might stock them, and rewarded myself for stepping outside my comfort zone by popping into the Arnolfini to see the exhibition of prints by Paula Rego, which didn't disappoint (although ending in a day or two). 

Baa baa black sheep

Grayson Perry - The Most Popular Art Exhibition Ever! - Arnolfini, Bristol

One of my favourite pieces of art ever is God Please Keep My Children Safe by Grayson Perry, which I saw at the Love exhibition at Bristol City Museum back in 2008. More than any other artwork I've encountered, it epitomises for me that obsessional and terrific  love with which your life is weighted the instant you feel your baby shift inside you. (I don't mean terrific in the sense of 'mahvellous, dahling'; I mean 'Causing You Terror'. Because in that instant you know that your life is utterly bound up, one way or another, with this new one for the rest of its duration.) 

Suffice to say, I've been really looking forward to seeing the most recent exhibition of Grayson Perry's work in Bristol - The Most Popular Art Exhibition Ever! - at the Arnolfini. If I were still writing my arts column for the local paper, I'd have been down there to see it a lot earlier in its run, but I'm not and I'm glad, too, since the note to one of the exhibits - Puff Piece - says that GP can't bear to read any of the reviews of his shows these days, as the good ones affect him just as much as the negative ones. (Not that he would have come across said local paper, of course, but even so.) 

Anyway, I'm just going to post photos to remind me of my favourite bits, and of the fun I had watching other visitors to the exhibition react to the pieces on display. 

Battle of Britain

Battle of Britain (detail)

Kenilworth AM1

Matching Pair 

the Remain pot 

the Leave pot 

Marriage Shrine

(The outside trying to break  in. This is through the gallery window, not an exhibit.)

Alan Measles and Claire Visit the Rust Belt

Jeremy Corbyn holding Claire's hand while Theresa May and Boris Johnson look on 

Trump kissing Alan's hand as Melania Trump and Nigel Farage look on

The Digmoor Tapestry

(More obtrusive outdoor scenery through the windows)

Red Carpet

Our Mother

Puff Piece (detail)

Luxury Brands for Social Justice

'rich people deserve equal rights too!' ... 'war and poverty are bad, I learnt that at university' ... 'super expensive knick-knacks against facism' ... 'all my ideas are recycled' ... 'liberal values sold here' ... 'this art makes me a better person' ... 'I've read all the academic research about empathy' ... 'remind me what it it we're protesting about' ... 'let them eat conceptual art' ... 'I'm off to buy a very serious piece of political art' ... 'poor places are so much more authentic' 

Animal Spirit and Object in Foreground

Death of a Working Hero (detail)

Shadow Boxing (detail)

Reclining Artist

Long Pig

What I like best about GP's work is its layered quality, which is most evident in the pottery and tapestries. There is always so much more going on beneath the surface, and the longer you look, the deeper you see. It's something I always try to do in my poems, and I left the exhibition more determined than ever to achieve that.

Grump of the Day was that the perspex boxes protecting the pottery and sculptures, whilst necessary, were horribly smeary and in need of a good clean. 

Final Joy of the Day was the discovery that having waited years for one to come along, a second Grayson Perry exhibition, featuring six tapestries inspired by Hogarth's The Rake's Progress, will open at Bristol City Museum on 31st March 2018. 

Bob Dylan at Cardiff Motorpoint Arena, 29th October 2015

My problem with big, big gigs is that I get so star-struck I tend to miss the entire first half.  'See that man over there?' my brain repeats, again and again. 'That's Leonard Cohen/David Bowie/Lou Reed, that is.'  Only in this instance, it was Bob.    

 
A familiar figure with blue hair squeezed between the seats a few rows in front of us - Snoozy, late of the Arnolfini bookshop. 

'SNOOOOZEEEE!' we called, as one. She turned, startled. 'Oh,' she said. 'What are you doing here?' 

Probably the same as you, we thought. And as Cerys Matthews, who was being escorted around the venue in a white fedora, just like Bob's. 
 
And then He was on stage and my brain duly dribbled out through my ears, so here's a review written by my companion, who is possibly the biggest Dylan fan in the world:
 

Bob Dylan and his band took to the stage promptly at 7.30pm. There was no support act to sit patiently through, the lights went down, the band started to play, the lights came up, and there, centre stage, was his Bobness himself, dressed like a Mississippi riverboat gambler, his five piece band all wore red lounge suits. The opening song was Times Have Changed which Dylan wrote especially for the film The Wonder Boys. It's a wonderful opener, the band were playing like forked lightning and Dylan's voice sounded great. I wondered what the next song would be ... 

And here's the thing... Dylan's been recording since the 1960s began, he's recorded well over 40 albums and written some of the most influential, outstanding songs in the history of contemporary music. His influence is huge. Those who like his music (and I appreciate there are those who don't) usually love it with a passion and the relationships they have with the songs might be compared with old, deep and beautiful friendships ... I wondered what the next song would be ... You know he won't play all your personal favourites but you really hope he'll play some of them but when many of those songs are over 30 years old, what are the chances? Bob Dylan himself clearly wants to play more contemporary songs, and he does, and it's exciting and dramatic... but still, when he plays a real classic, beloved song like Tangled Up In Blue, from the incomparable Blood On The Tracks album, the audience are on their feet and raising the roof of the Cardiff Motorpoint Arena.

I'm not complaining. It was a unique and mesmerising experience that I hope I'll never forget. When the concert finished, I couldn't speak for the wonder of it until I was out into the autumn night. And then I couldn't stop talking about it ... I wished he'd played Mr Tambourine Man, mind.

Dismal In Bristol

I'm house-hunting at the moment, which is tedious and exciting all at once. But mostly time-consuming.  I had to find something to write about for my arts column, however.  I thought about heading for Dismaland, but media saturation, combined with a dismal booking system, made me think better of it. Besides, Bristol on a rainy August bank holiday can be just as grim.  

Bristol Puppetry Festival was on over the long weekend and I’d intended to take a look at Asiel, a performance by Babok that features recycled household items, but there was no sign of it outside Arnolfini. Maybe it had been washed away by the rain.  There was, however, a vaguely sheep-shaped lump of garish fibreglass just beyond M Shed, which had attracted a herd of dripping people taking photos.  

Ooh look, it's Blackbeard Shaun the Sheep, following on from Blackbeard Gorilla in 2011 and Salty Sea Dog Gromit in 2013.  About time they cut straight to the Charity auction, I think. 

It's all so much less interesting than the B2737 Battle Bus on loan from the London Transport Museum which was parked alongside and which, apart from the occasional toddler being lifted to parp its horn, was ignored.  

The B-type - the first ever mass-produced motor bus - went into service in 1910.  They were commandeered for the war effort in 1914 and saw service as troop carriers, ambulances, lorries and even mobile pigeon lofts.  

They then went back to being buses in 1918. 

And look, it says - Tracey frm Islington drove her!

In the absence of puppets, I headed into the Arnolfini and found a different Dismaland in the form of an installation by Matt Davies and Milo Newman, entitled By the Mark, the Deep. ‘A sound installation that delves into the submerged ruins of the lost coastal town of Dunwich’, it consists of a room in total darkness, filled with the noises of shifting waves and silt, taken from sound recordings made directly at the site, now covered by the North Sea.  

After a while, as I inched my way across the room, I made out what might have been a shelf, which vibrated alarmingly and turned out to be the sound system. Then, as my eyesight adjusted further, I swam towards a shimmering white shape which proved to be fire regulations.  

The experience was surprisingly effective.  More people came in, wondering how they would ever find their way back out and whether there was anyone else in there. ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘there’s me and I’ve been here six months.’

Plunging from the atmospheric dark, I made my way to the exhibition of work by one of the UK’s foremost land artists, Bristol-based Richard Long, whose work I first encountered some years ago in Tate St Ives.  

I find Long's work very interesting, primarily because it involves walking about a lot.  Long documents his epic walks through the medium of photography, maps and text, re-imagining the relationship between art and landscape. 

Perhaps the most immediate part of the exhibition is the offsite piece Boyhood Line, which follows a desire line trodden by users of the Downs near Ladies’ Mile for 170 metres, outlining it with white limestone rocks.  The exhibition of Long’s work runs until 15th November.  

Christmas Lights in Bristol

 Early morning in Clifton

 Lunchtime on Wine Street

Three in the afternoon on Narrow Quay

Bristol, there've been times I've tried to leave you ...

... but somehow I forget to unhook the elastic strap from the back of my belt ...

... and I'm left doing a sort of horizontal bungee jump over and over again. 

I'm getting tired now ...

... and it's no real hardship to abandon resistance ...

... not on days like these.

Cranes on Princes Wharf

The Wills Memorial Building and Cathedral from M Shed

Looking south to Totterdown

Arnolfini on Narrow Quay

St Augustine's Reach

Over to Cabot Tower on Brandon Hill

Cathedral Steps

The Triangle