Friday, 21 December 2018

Season's Greetings

Another year rolls round. They say it's a sign of ageing if time starts speeding up. Everything is relative, I suppose.

This year has been bonkers: the government has gone mad and we are heading to be the country which shoots itself in the foot.

So, to banish, for a week, all scary thoughts of the coming food shortages and riots, and being controlled by those 3,500 troops who have been mobilised to 'help out', here's my seasonal poem for this year that was given a honourable mention in the Seren Christmas poem competition.

Happy whatever you celebrate. I won't say Happy New Year, as I doubt it's going to be anything that could be so described.

Christmas on the Beacons

This year I want to walk the hills
to a fresh dark –

a summit where I can wonder
on distant coastal towns
in their cliché necklaces
strung bright,

the Blues and Scarlets 
switched on weeks ago to vie
with constant sodium.

And then I’ll turn
to something darker –

the Sky Park is the only
beacon I wish for,
where far away points of light
have a chance to shine.

Years since I came here
for Hale Bopp; my compulsion
westwards behind a star.

Wednesday, 5 December 2018

Yayoi Kusama at Victoria Miro

Here is light and colour, black glass and marble to infinity. Even though you only have a few minutes to walk through the polka dot and mirrored installation - My Heart is Dancing into the Universe - those few minutes are amazing. Outside the drear of greasy London rain.

Inside all the possibilities of the spectrum in Kusama's trademark pumpkins and her mesmerising My Eternal Soul Paintings of significant patterns. Between the two in the garden of Victoria Miro's gallery are some really jolly Flowers that Speak All about my Heart Given to the Sky.

If you like bright colours and dots, and are prepared to go slowly in your appreciation of the forms Kusama suggests - I saw landscapes, eyes, and pleasing organics - then this is a cheerful exhibition of her often disturbed mind.

Looking at the recent paintings, some from this year even, it's hard to believe they were made by a woman coming up on her ninetieth birthday. What an astonishing achievement. I hope I am writing and printmaking with such clarity and energy when I am her age.

And what generosity. The Miro charges not one sou, but to enjoy this crowd managed show in relative peace you need to book time slot online. Don't miss out. It is an absolute joy to the senses.