“Le Quattro Volte” film by Michaelangelo Frammartino

May 23rd, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink


This is a great film – there is no dialogue, its very calm and considered (perhaps slow) but after about 25 mins there is an incredible, pivotal scene which I have never seen the like of before. This is an investigation into our relationship with the environment around us, and a poetic study of the possibilities of reincarnation. Watch it, if you’re in the right mood to contemplate things. It’s beautifully shot too.

 

Edwin Morgan – Canedolia (An Off-Concrete Scotch Fantasia)

November 29th, 2011 § 4 comments § permalink

oa! hoy! awe! ba! mey!

who saw?

rhu saw rum. garve saw smoo. nigg saw tain. lairg saw lagg. rigg saw eigg. largs saw haggs. tongue saw luss. mull saw yell. stoer saw strone. drem saw muck. gask saw noss. unst saw cults. echt saw Banff. weem saw wick. trool saw twatt.

how far?

from largo to lunga from joppa to skibo from ratho to shona from ulva to minto from tinto to tolsta from soutra to marsco from braco to barra from alva to stobo from fogo to fada from gigha to gogo from kelso to stoma from hirta to spango.

what is it like there?

och it’s freuchie, it’s faifley, it’s wamphray, it’s frandy, it’s sliddery.

what do you do?

we foindle and fungle, we bonkle and meigle and maxpoffle. we scotstarvit, armit, wormit, and even whifflet. we play at crossstobs,leuchars, gorbals, and finfan. we scavaig, and there’s aye a bit of tilquhilly. If it’s wet, treshnish and mishnish.

what is the best of the country?

blinkbonny! airgold! thundergay!

and the worst?

scrishven, shiskine, scrabster, and snizort.

listen! what’s that?

catacol and wauchope, never heed them.

tell us about last night 

well, we had a wee ferintosh and we lay on the quiraing. It was pure strontian!

but who was there?

petermoidart and craigenkenneth and cambusputtock and ecclemuchty and corriehulish and balladolly and altnacanny and clauchanvrechan and stronachlochan and auchenlachar and tighnacrankie and tilliebruaich and killieharra and invervannach and achnatudlem and machrishellach and inchtamurchan and auchterfechan and kinlochculter and ardnawhallie and invershuggle.

and what was the toast?

schiehallion! schiehallion! schiehallion!

Barry McLaren (1976 – 2008) Poems

November 19th, 2010 § 8 comments § permalink

While cleaning through a bunch of stuff today, I came across some sheets of poetry written by my friend Barry McLaren. Barry died just over 2 years ago. He was a passionate, charming, talented and complicated man. In October 2006 Barry and I had an exhibition in Patriothall Gallery in Stockbridge called “The Corporal & The Commander”. Barry organised the show, and after it was finished, he gave me some poems he had written for the show, they were scribbled on the back of menu’s from Hectors Bar. I found them today, and I’m posting them here, along with some images of Barry’s work, which I think is from his Glasgow School of Art degree show around 2003/2004. Miss you Baraldo.

“THE WEE TEAM & THE TUT-TUT BRIGADE”

The rustling of dead dried copper leaves, tumbling in spirals

Round and around the cold blow dries. The rooks, the crows, they call for the fall

Green is going, fungi are slowing. Round and around the winds still blow

Leaves pile up in playground corners for pitter-patter feet. It’s upon us, that time of year again

Dark, black hoodies, snug leather gloves, Nike air velocity

The silence of violence

The wee team are coming

“NO VEHICLES ALLOWED ON THE DANCEFLOOR”

New morning and a brew is storming. Nouveau Sirocco and joys of riding

The wee team are coming

Flattened castle for the band. Shoeless. Placeless. Nameless.

The end of a French gentle westerly with traces of apprehension, all too quiet to mention

beyond physick kids, sponsorship sinking

No new deal. Run, while you still can

For the wee team are coming

“PLEASE FEEL FREE TO WALK ON OUR WORLD BUT FIRST REMOVE YOUR SHOES”

GoddamFuckinSchmuckinShiteyweefuckinuselesspointlessgeistlyweevacuousgreasygobbledaffectedego-beatengreetinweesoorfacedingratiousill-manneredshiteincretin-facedsoulsuckedhollowedurineretaininmisguidedshoescrapinblurry-eyeddrugfriedcouldadiednatureignorindenysnorinapocalypticlovinjunkfoodshovinplasticlovinbawbagscratchinweedhatchinweeshite.

The wee team are coming

“NO BALL GAMES ALLOWED”

A charm offensive by the demonsterbators. Piles of smiles, killer smiles with a lizard’s haircut, styled and bought from an uninvolved evolutionary

Spit on their windows, unwind their pain, with everything to lose and nothing to gain

“PLEASE KEEP THE GATE SHUT AT ALL TIMES (POLITE NOTICE”

Do you pay attention to the feathers that fell out of the sky?

From grounded hungry raptors, they used to fly sky high

Everyone’s a cunt till they prove otherwise

On a night the fat sheep gorged in order to get high and laughed and laughed at the silent wolf, staring at the lies

Plastic, fantastic

Cloning soundbites from earshot around

Someday they shall bleat to the nerviosa beat of their skittle, scuttle feet

The wee team are coming

“UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES SHALL RUNNING BE TOLERATED”

There was a naughty boy and a naughty boy was he, he ran away to Scotland for a people to a see

No matter how much you hate us, wee won’t hate you

We all go round the prickly pear, hoods at an empty

Hollowed stare

The wee team are coming

“DO NOT SEEK THE TREASURE”

Please excuse these disorganised thoughts

Fear of a plastic planet

The lies of the skies

You’ve been watched from an early age

All dead eyes on you, you’ve only got one shoe

Lick the world and listen very carefully

Once in the morning and once in the evening

Spoon-fed ideas

The wee team are coming

“BEWARE OF THE PIPE DO NOT TRIP”

Gie’s TCP

Ah’ve gone n’ grazed ma knee

It’s been rainin’ n’ ah cannae see

Ah looked at the sun n’ slipped on ma arse

Bein’ wee is such a farce

“PLEASE KEEP MOUTH SHUT AT ALL TIMES”

Your Georgian facades…………………………………………………………………………………..nothing.

Your spatial awareness………………………………………………………………………………….nothing.

Your pencil-thin cigars…………………………………………………………………………………..nothing.

Your petrol-hungry 4×4’s……………………………………………………………………………….nothing.

Your stainless settee………………………………………………………………………………………nothing.

Your meticulously polished brasses…………………………………………………………………nothing.

Your chilled Pinot Grigio………………………………………………………………………………..nothing.

Your neatly trimmed hedges…………………………………………………………………………..nothing.

Your adherence to signs…………………………………………………………………………………nothing.

Your derogatory barmaid advances…………………………………………………………………nothing.

Your Tesco clubcards…………………………………………………………………………………….nothing.

Your Nigella Lawson wank fantasies……………………………………………………………….nothing.

Your Alessi fly swatter……………………………………………………………………………………nothing.

Your tightly strapped bicycle helmet……………………………………………………………….nothing.

Your blue flower printed toilet roll………………………………………………………………….nothing.

Your Gore-tex rucksack………………………………………………………………………………….nothing.

Your polystyrene bag o’ Labrador excrement……………………………………………………nothing.

Your £2.37 tub of stuffed olives………………………………………………………………………nothing.

Your stop-stop starting at every kerb……………………………………………………………….nothing.

Your footpath guided woodland walks on Sunday’s……………………………………………nothing.

Your birdie 3 on the 19th at Murrayfield……………………………………………………………nothing.

The wee team are coming

“PLEASE DO NOT SIT ON THE LAYERS”

Someday a real rain is gonna come

and wash all the scum off the streets

Someday a real wind is gonna blow

and discredit your designs to nature’s flow

Someday a real inferno is gonna burn

melting this plastic town down into the ground

silently, without sound

You shall know, yes you shall know

for the wee team are coming

the wee team are coming

the wee team are coming

the wee team are coming

BARRY McLAREN

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