After the struggle

Statue of Nelson Mandela on the South Bank of the Thames by the Festival Hall. The statue stands against a pale wall, made paler on that day by blazing sunshine. So it took only a small adjustment to remove the wall completely from the photo. I like the aesthetic effect of this. Also, though, it seemed symbolic of a certain limbo that has overtaken the heroism of Mandela, such a few years after his release from prison and the end of the Apartheid regime. Which leads into the next post, if I ever get around to writing it.

Dog in the window

Two rows ahead of me on the bus, nose pressed to the grubby window, looking out.
The life-enhancing moment. Why photography is redemptive :-)

From above

Looking down at people on the floor of the vast Turbine Hall at Tate Modern. They seem to float through that huge space, along the slightly uphill path towards the exit where daylight filters through the impossibly tall windows.

Green chopsticks

At the lovely Urban Orient Vietnamese cafe in Crystal Palace. The Vietnamese word for chopsticks, I think, is dua (sorry, Blogger is objecting to diacritics lately. I need to look into new ways to insert them).

For the cell of a recluse

The sun was gorgeously caressing and not too hot, so after work I crossed over Waterloo Bridge and took a walk along the river to see the Miro exhibition at Tate Modern, open late on Fridays. The riverside was crowded all the way and my gallery attention span proved, alas, to be about thirty minutes. I know, at least, what I want to go back and spend more time with. Here are my favourite paintings from this visit, interspersed with a few photos. They tell their own story of what I could relate to on a Friday evening.

There's a mood, a mental space where words rush into my head, make patterns faster than I can write them down. I'm almost never in this space - I am too tired. After work, I need silence and emptiness and it's all I can manage, but I also need words and need to write. After work I need rest and solitude and it's all I'm capable of, but I also need people, stimulation and activity. I'm not able to balance these conflicting needs and must learn how. The alternative is a kind of death.

Miro: Drop of Water on Pink Snow, 1968

Miro: Painting on White Background for the Cell of a Recluse, 1968



Miro: Head of a Catalan Peasant, c 1925



Friday evening bus stop

Webber Street

Webber Street, behind The Old Vic - photo set here.

Edition 6 of the >Language >Place blog carnival

Dauntingly busy lately, I've only really made time today to explore the new edition of the >Language >Place blog carnival, hosted by Michelle Elvy, in New Zealand and right here and everywhere in cyberspace. The theme was 'language and place on the edge' and my reading was a tantalising, liberating journey away from my office desk and through the edge of places, images and minds.

Edition 7 will be hosted by Julia Davies in Germany and cyberspace. Submissions are open until 26 June.

Street furniture

This is the scale of streetside excrescence I can deal with, even welcome. On a less acceptable, indeed terrifying scale, the LRB blog has a great post by Rosemary Hill on The Shard.

Small Stones Blogsplash

The best thing I've done this year was to take up the daily practice of writing 'small stones' - one single, small, attentive thought each day. I started with the challenge to write one every day in the month of January, was delighted to be included in the book of that month, and here I am still writing them in June, on a separate blog. It's a small thing that can make a huge difference, wake you up and calm you down in the midst of rushing and routine and sometimes turn the whole day around.

So I'm very happy to be part of the small stones blogsplash - a chance for those already familiar with small stones to give something back to Fiona, who founded this practice, and Kaspalita  and for others to give it a go, on 18 June, when they'll be getting married. This will be a lovely thing  - all these small, attentive thoughts collected on their wedding day!

From Fiona and Kaspa :

We are both on a mission to help the world connect with the world through writing. We are also getting married on Saturday the 18th of June.

For our fantasy wedding present, we are asking people across the world to write us a ‘small stone’ and send it to us here.

A small stone is a short piece of observational writing – simply pay attention to something properly and then write it down. Find out more about small stones here.

If you’re willing to help, we’d love you to do two things:

1) Re-post this blog on your own blog as soon as you can (any time before June the 18th) to give your readers a chance to hear about what we’re doing.  Just cut and paste or you can find the html here.

2) Write us a small stone on our wedding day whilst we’re saying our vows and eating cake, and post it on your blog. There’s more information about how you can do that here.

You can find out all about our project at our website, Wedding Small Stones, and you can also read our blog at A River of Stones. If you get bitten by the small-stone-writing bug we also have a challenge coming up, when we’ll be challenging you to notice one thing every day during July and write it down.

Thank you for listening, and we hope we’ll be returning from our honeymoon to an inbox crammed with small stones, including yours.

Warmest, Kaspa and Fiona