Sunday, September 25, 2011

Fruitful Interlude

Today the opposite of tomato is 'works of art with a minimum of steel'

Presenting a one-off seasonal special today, rather than the habitual annual fruit-fest, as a pair of the available (just, given their ripening-to-mellowness condition) pears became resolved into a suitable composition for active contemplation through the process of drawing in graphite & watercolour.
As usual, the pears are arranged & seen in such proximity as to attempt to 'charge with energy' the space between in the manner ascribed by Andrew Forge to a particular composition of Euan Uglow's featuring a pair of pears (please refer to this archive blog post).


graphite & watercolour/30x21cm

Soundtrack:


Moon Wiring Club 'A Spare Tabby at the Cat's Wedding'
Bauhaus '1979 - 1983 Vols. 1
& 2'

There's something of the autumn that palpably informs the aesthetic of the Moon Wiring Club, rendering a listen to the goings-on of the denizens of Clinkskell all the more appropriate under the seasonal circumstances, although no such excuse is required, of course, such is TOoT’s attachment to the work of Mr Hodgson.

The re-acquaintance with the sounds (& iconography too) of Bauhaus is another matter altogether, however, with the whim to hear said music occurring what might be a good 25 years since the last aural engagement with what was a particular favourite band, back in the early Eighties (so much so, in fact, that they remain the only band I’ve seen live on as many as three occasions: the first, in fact, mentioned already in these parts, here, in relation to an appearance, also, by The Birthday Party, back in June of 1981).
An interesting experience to report, accompanied by the sense of knowing why one may have moved on from certain artists & their music, their sound, although not without a number of moments of pleasant recognition, of songs that do seem to have endured, that offer more than merely the indulgence or whatever of nostalgia (the revisiting, indeed, of specifically teenage passions: swinging the heartache of the loss of, perhaps? For all that, with the hindsight of experience, may be worth anyway…), more often than not because of their deviation from the norm of the signature aesthetic, which itself retains a certain attraction, if, possibly, preferably, in smaller doses than the two volumes of the retrospective somewhat indigestibly constitute.

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