Mirabelle

A spookylicious new tale has just been added to our sister blog Shadowstime. Though feedback on this one has not been too good so far, I love this story. I have dusted her down and looked her over and still can’t bring myself to change a thing. So here she is as she always has been and always will be. I guess Love is blind after all.

Mommy, what’s a Coccolithophore?

Why dear, it’s a single-celled algae responsible for forming the chalk bed we now call the South Downs and the inspiration behind the lastest art installation at Fabrica. Called The Elephant Bed and created by John Grade, this sculpture consists of a series of beautifully crafted horn shaped cones suspended in the gallery, some of  which are left hanging over a pool, slowly disintgrating into the brackish water.

John Grade’s work is characterised by the crafting of sculptural objects which are then left outside to the mercy of the elements and Fabrica are running a series of events throughout the installation celebrating this sculpture’s ongoing decay and eventual destruction. Last Wednesday we attended a free Drawing to Film evening in the gallery. Hosted by artist Jane Fordham we were invited to draw our responses while watching the classic sci fi film The Day of the Triffids (1962 Dir Francis & Sekely)

This film is based on the John Wyndam novel and was chosen by John Grade specifically for the fact that those pesky Triffids were eventually destroyed by sea water, in much the same way his sculpture will be. The evening was free and all art materials supplied. It was a great fun and a wonderfully eerie location to watch a movie with the advantage that, being in the dark, you don’t even need to be able to draw too well! There will be another Drawing to Film event this Wednesday featuring The Creature from the Black Lagoon in glorious 3D no less, so that should inspire some interesting pictures too.

Fab Art

On the morning of August 31st the Elephant Bed will be laid to rest on the beach to dissolve forever into the sea. For more info on this beautiful, haunting piece of work and future events contact Fabrica.

Phoenix Art Junky Indoor Market

Sunday June 28th – Still trying to fill the Sunday morning browsing gap left by the relocation of our beloved boot fair it was fun checking out the one day flea market down at Phoenix Brighton. This summer bazaar brought together a variety of affordable art and jewellery made by local artists as well an eclectic mix of stalls selling books, badges, buttons an’ bows and all things arty and junkalicious in between. With loads of interesting stalls to look through, some yummy home made refreshments on offer and all indoors so sheltered from the British summer, this ticked all the right boxes in the rummaging stakes.

Best buy was this beautiful bracelet made by Lux & Love. Check out her web page for more precious jewels, voodoo gems, vintage and reclaimed jewellery.

And speaking of all things gorgeously Mexican, Voodoo and Gothic, check out Brighton artist Mahni Dare’s awesome props, puppetry and much more at Mahni-Monsta.com.

Glassed

A new story has been added to our sister blog Shadows Time for the month of July. Called Glassed, this started out as an attempt at writing Flash Fiction but at 1,300+ words is still a little long winded.

I’ve also added some links to other stuff that’s been good to read lately. So enjoy!

Severn Beach

Even more desolate than a seaside town out of season is a seaside town that’s never in season, and the poem below about Severn Beach, once a popular seaside resort – alas no more – captures that sense of forsaken melancholy perfectly. This rather pensive piece of prose comes from our amazing Dominic – who has branched out with a blog of his own so check out: Poetry Shelf for more poems and discussion on all things lyrical.

Out on Severn Beach

Out on Severn Beach

The shingle feels the rain

set upon forgotten earth

away from all that’s sane,

the sky frustrates the light

dictating moods below

the bridges’ shadow casts across

that takes away the glow,

voices pass through the air

then descend in to the sea

nothing lasts to tell a soul

nor pass the words to me,

pity takes the evening

when the dormant sleep

for pity stalks the coastal path

where it earns its keep.

Dominic

 

Rain

Rain falls upon us

the ground soaked beneath our feet;

lets hope the sun comes up.

by Dominic

 

Canine

Woken by the ringing bell

the canine barks and haunts the door

upon realising it’s not for him

he falls asleep upon the floor.

by Dominic.

Bench

Lining paths across our commons

facing out to sea,

offering the fatigued mass a

place at once to be.

To all a seat of comfort

but it can be more,

loved ones gone but not forgotten

by the sandy shore,

on top of hill tops in the downs

in parks and cemeteries,

around town squares, in beer gardens

beneath wheezing trees.

For me a chance to glance surroundings

whilst others share discourse,

sweet nothings shared amongst laughter

before the strained divorce.

By Dominic

Work

When at work I pray all day,

It helps to take the pain away,

Soon the hope of day has passed,

I’m left in this abysmal farce,

I want the warmth of glories glow,

But sense this will never show,

Racked with angst and godless fear,

As my bestowed demise begins to lear,

The answer is there if only I wait,

But patience could mean it will all be too late,

Call me to arms and face down the dull,

In hindsight this will just be a lull,

Around the corner the answer is there,

The heat of the sun and warmth of the air,

Up and away and on we will fight,

Then out on the town long in to the night!

‘Till comes the dawn, is seems so soon,

Accompanied by a familiar tune,

And there in my face is the same,

Old routines that have no one to blame,

Just myself at my desk,

Doing my time just like the rest,

Dreaming again of a different time,

Just for the hope to be mine.

by Dominic.

 

 

 

The Day

Upon a Sunday in June just gone,

  

Such good fortune came along,

 

Abundant pleasures filled my day,

 

Before I had a thing to say,

 

I walked a busy river bank,

 

Feeding birds who offered thanks,

 

I drunk ale in ancient inns,

 

With old soaks and wooden beams,

 

I took in Georgian squares and lanes,

 

And decommissioned old steam trains,

 

I had tea and walnut cake,

 

And frolicked on a boating lake,

 

I ate rare beef and crispy spuds,

 

Then washed roasting tins in suds,

 

Before laying down upon my bed,

 

And asking myself:

  

What have I achieved? 

by Dominic.