Arcania by the Wood

 Arcania has many places – from its northern edge by the great northern ocean to its more southern edge, closer to the warmer shore bathed by a star we call our sun. Not that its north end never sees it, but a difference in latitude makes subtle changes, especially in winter, as light dimmers in various ways and lingers a little longer…

Trading salt for berries

For the very first time in moons, I traveled back south of the ancient wall – that once separated the wild & rugged north from its greener and gentler slopped south – in order to reunite with loved ones. I left my island tip in a storm at twilight to fly away from Force 10 winds. The whole journey proved a wild adventure from the start. In between flights, I paced myself. I was so eager to arrive and look through the eyes I last gazed at four years ago. And then, on approach to my destination, broken clouds let me remember how populated south is, as Tinsel City unveiled itself a few minutes before landing. However, this was not quite my destination, which lies on the edge of the wood, in between two hillsides, where spirits wander free from tarmac and concrete.

 Every morning has its birdsong, every twilight, its majesty. How I longed to be reunited with this corner of Arcania. A (southern) Woodsman’s world where fire roars in between logs, smiles and orange. For Arcania has many faces too. Every square of it has its own dwellers. My hosts opened their door for a special Yuletide.

I love Arcania by the Wood.

We trudge back through time and brown leaves, h0ld kissing gates at every stage and admire every now. Led by loyal Braxie the golden Labrador, every walk turns a new quest. For the first time, we walked beyond the Fairy Tree, as young ones grow and wish to trek beyond its edge. We sometimes walk by Hideaway Cottage to avoid the main road;

stumbled through miles of mud, blackberry bushes and dead leaves, before we reach its edge. The wood is also home to clawed, furry  and scaled creatures, so dear to Arcania. As we cross a footbridge, scaled   ones welcome us at eye level… Their many eyes focus on us. You do not really notice them at first sight, since they camouflage at leisure. Others hide under piles of leaves, and remain there until twilight… Their coat of armour shines beneath the shafts of light, that add colours to the ground.

They are the guardians of the forest floor. As night returns, children are warned to stay in the safety of their own cottage, closer to their hearth, as the wood turns into a forbidden forest, where colder spirits wander free among the nocturnal dwellers. Higher up towards canopy level, owls & other birds of many enchant every tree.

 A single encounter with either of those wild creatures could cost you a limb or two. But the fiercest of all, wander loose around trees. It is said to be so territorial and fierce, others keep well away, even the three-meter dragon that seeks its solitude among mud and dead leaves. So we watch where we trudge and stravaig! Always further, where we seek light, the wood offers an opening.

But Jae-Jae the big cat knows every inch of the old wood. he will scent you and use his stealth to check you out. Braxie has flair to detect him. During day time, he will not strike, as Arcanians wander without fear from the sun.

Now, we have reached edge of the wood. Rolling hillsides and enclosed trees define more open countryside. It is warmer and enchanting. In the distance, red kites glide through the eddies and make the most of winter light. Voices gather at edge of fields and walk together to the road. We come back home in time for lunchtime or for tea.

The wood is home to light and darkness – its beauties & its beasts, but when night comes, it is time to enjoy the moon behind glass, as I too stay warm among my kind after twilight. Every woodsman knows that.

And until my return to my northern shore, my Arcanians will share their home, for they have a great sense of love and warmth.

Yuletide Collaboration: A Christmas Carol

 The great fun about  December resides in the fact that we are crossing swords with night, sleet, gales, deadlines and this mid-winter solstice (for those of us who belong to the Northern Hemisphere…) It is the darkest of moment in many respects. Over the past few weeks, I have had the great opportunity to be invited to a a collaborative project at UK scale through ArtiPeeps. I still remember yesterday, when my partner in crime, artist James MacKenzie, tweeted me about mounting excitement about the Project’ release online. It has been a fun experience and a grand collaboration with Jamie. I quickly peeped at ArtiPeeps’ blog at lunchtime, and discovered the unveiled works from all collaborators. Well, here it is, everyone, and I hope you too enjoy it!

A Christmas Carol

Wishing you all a wonderful Yuletide, with all the very best for 2013.

From Shore to Shoormal

Blogpost from Shore to Shoormal’s Publisher, Joe Blades, via his blog Broken Jaw Press.

From Shore to Shoormal through the eyes of its publisher

The book is OUT & Available online

 I’ve yet to get my print copy, but it is out and available online: From Shore to Shoormal / D’un rivage à l’autre, 

co-written with Donna Allard and published by Broken Jaw Press, Fredericton, NB, Canada –

En ettendant ma copie,  je sais qu’il est maintenant en vente en ligne – il suffit de “cliquer” sur le lien en-dessus

(ou ci-dessous…)

Co-écrit avec Donna Allard et édité/publié par Broken Jaw Press, Fredericton, Nouveau Brunswick, Canada –

terre d’Acadie!

Boannie Yuletide gift / joli cadeau de Noël 🙂

MAKK an YARN (NTS, Ignition)

“Makk an Yarn”, to any Shetland lass, is second nature. For centuries on end, Shetland women have gathered by the fire and knitted socks, shawls, gansies (jumpers), toories (woolly hats) to whomever they wanted to trade in with for bread or other primal commodities, since they had no money in their pockets (well, until very recently, say the 1970s) … Some even spent their entire time caastin (knitting) whilst walking to and back from the paet bank (peat/turf hill) with kishies (baskets specially designed to carry peat/turf) on their backs. Multi-tasking is not a modern thing at all!

Now, when the National Theatre for Scotland (NTS) approached Creative Scotland and Shetland Arts for a very special project, Ignition, friend and playwright Jacqui Clark accepted a creative challenge: that of coming up with, literally an army of knitters to come together and produce 50-stitch squares in order to knit a car (cosy), since Ignition explores our relationship with the car. Shetland could not be rivalled, since it is the home of the Sullom Voe terminal – or a nordic version of Dallas (by the sea!) ever since the very first gash of oil turned the archipelago on its head economically.

Jacqui Clark

So Jacqui called in a few knitters and “Makk an Yarn” (“knit and chat”) emerged from her imagination earlier on this autumn, with sessions at The Shetland Library (first floor) and Shetland Arts’ Mareel throughout the dark season.

“Can du caast?” (“Can you knit?) asks Jacqui when you come around. My humble answer made Jacqui smile, “yes, wi wirds an metaphors,” I mumbled. Jacqui invited a poet into this amazing project. So we gathered and sat with needles & wool, supplied from local brokers & suppliers, Jamieson & Smith. And what a wonderful time we’ve had! Jacqui ensured cake and other fancies would garnish our evenings! Whether at The Shetland Library or Mareel, we have been fed with a myriad of delicacies – food (largely cake, tea/coffee), stories, verse and laughters!

..And if you think this is reserve to ladies, well, think again! Jacqui’s welcomed everyone, regardless of gender, as knitters unite for the project!

Chris Wright (Parkour) gave it a go!

Jacqui is ambitious: not only will the car be knitted, but a small (glove compatment-size) book with thematic recorded stories about our relationship with such motor should be produced later on in 2013. Her makk and yarn will stitch itself onto a much bigger celebration of music and dance next March.

SO, WATCH THIS SPACE!

Hello, Timespan – Artists’ Community :-)

 It’s official – have joined my northern Scottish community, north of the Caledonian Canal – and am chuffed about it! Ruth, Patty, Rachel, Laura, Paul, Lindsay and Anne will be chuffed |:-)

It makes complete sense, especially with my involvement through Humblyband. We are now even more united.

 

Please click and visit! Thank you 🙂

http://artistcommunity..org.uk/

Something For the Weekend #2

Peace in the world, peace in my heart – with gracious thanks to ArtiPeeps for such entry 🙂

ArtiPeeps

‘It is the function of creative men to perceive the relations between thoughts, or things, or forms of expression that may seem utterly different and to be able to combine them into some new form’. William Plomer

Some inspirational snippets and recommendations for your weekend

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Something to Watch: 

DVD: Heaven

A Cate Blanchett and Giovanni Ribisi film directed by Thomas Tykwer (Run Lola Run) about a woman who takes the law into her own hands, and much much more…

Why you could watch it:

Brilliant performances, beautiful cinematography, challenging direction and beautiful, beautiful soundtrack:

CINEMA

Great film review of ‘The Hunt’ the latest film from Thomas Vinterberg director of Festen by ‘the tale of bengwy’( a site with stimulating music, film and book reviews).

http://bengwy.wordpress.com/2012/11/30/the-hunt-pointing-the-finger/

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Something To Look At: 

Gerti Schiele in a Plaid Garment by Egon Schiele

Angular, Edgy, Delicate and Spiky

Egon…

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on my way to Yuletide

 Friend, columnist & writer Marsali Taylor offered me an e- advent calendar to help me go through the dark times of December. Even though religion’s not my thing, I embraced her present with a certain degree of joy, for I know it came from her heart. Marsali’s just like me – a tough cookie when it comes to be resilience in life; a great spirit and a heck of a pirate when it comes to seafaring! Haha, my dear Marsali, yes, am talking about you! Where did our friendship begin? Was it at The Westside Writers’ Group? I love the way our lives entwine – from words to pages into  books. In have to confess Death on a Long Ship will travel with me this Yuletide. It may travel by air instead of sea, but I shall delve into it away from the island.

For the very first time in years, there will be no holly wreath on my door. Twenty sleeps left until my familiar shore and favourite sandbridge roar away from my feet.

 If I’m longing to re-unite with loved ones, I am enjoying each sunrise & sunset from my lofty latitude – every moment of now that bathes inside light – let it be glimpses from a low-lit sun, beam or candle. Sunrise remains my favourite moment, as dawn vanishes with Venus. Whether I enjoy it from the heights of Setter (looking SE towards Mousa, or from The Sletts in Lerwick, it is precious, like a rare stone. I can never imagine a moment away from the edge of my world without light… However the low the sun may glow, currently flirting the edge of my horizon, it is a star that defines us, you & I, on this Earth. Today, in the face of more Arctic conditions, I adorned the edge of the composter with nailed apples, for the starlings, that (like pirates) dilapidate the dangling bird food for sparrows I had attached to tree branches on the previous morning. Mister Robin joined in the feast.  How delightful! Sadly, I have not heard the wren for a while… And as my world neared roosting time, I counted over twenty garden birds perching on the alders & roses, feasting like kings and quarrelling like kids (!) The price of survival in such harsh conditions remains a daily set of jousts. Earlier on this afternoon, in between snow showers,  I littered my area of No man’s land with unwanted soup leftovers. My avian friends are not fussy and will accept all offerings! Gripped inside a thin layer of ice, the grass felt like cardboard when treading on long blades.

 I imagined a winter’s tide, when the Atlantic wrecks the very bed in the shoormal and vomits kelp, like a greedy Pantagruel.  Master Rabelais (with whom I humbly share my birthday!) still echoes in my heart, after all those years away from my lycée years in Aix-en-Provence, where, Madame Silve, my French Literature teacher, introduced us to such giant, who, like his father had impressed me. The very essence of geopoetics from this time… Walking the shore after a storm rekindles light. I promised myself to walk that edge before I go.

PROJECT UPDATES IN A FLASH

Collaborative work with Jacqui Clark (NTS Ignition) and with James Mackenzie (ArtiPeep’s Project) are flourishing with grace. Verse has reached each artist and creation can follow. As for the verse collection with D Allard from New Brunswick, Canada, I wait for words from Broken Jaw Press. Look for it at the bottom page. Until tide turns, the hyperlink sleeps in shallows… Twenty sleeps till the magic of Yuletide, with unknown rocks along the shore. I’ll always love the dark jade sea, from wherever I stand. Must be flowing inside my Norman veins. 🙂