Reclaimed Land (for Bute) #NationalPoetryDay


The pinnacle…
Follow the lights and you will find the gold.
A Severn wind rattles the soul,
Rain like pins my face a cushion.
Edifice a vision, wooden windows a fact,
a collection of faces glued in community,
Now divided again by scheme-funded foolery.
To escape is to renounce
Only with strength comes intrinsically.
As thrust upon pages turn,
A dying side street lives
on the ensign of principality!

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Wrecsam Art Vend & Onwards…


So its been a little while shall we say…

Art vend

I found out about the closure of Oriel Wrecsam (probably may favourite gallery) that i have such a connection with. It gave me my first chance to grab at the slippy old balloon of the art bubble dream back in 2008 on selection for the Wrecsam Open. But now revitalised and mowing into pastures new its last Hara was Art Vend. The project selected artist to submit 50 pieces of work to go to vending machines placed around Wrecsam over the next few months. The work I submitted took the form of a Digital Protection locked away in the little plastic casual.  Alongside this sits the brilliant documentary of the gallery in its closing weeks from https://twitter.com/OrielWresidency This was created by Simon Proffitt more of his work can be seen here  A real eye for detail…

Artist in Oriel Gwynedd

Time is flying by with the project over at Oriel Gwynedd, Bangor. You can keep up to speed with the work and what I’m doing here https://tocynnwr.exposure.co I am about to start documenting the closure of the old gallery over the next coming months.

Bodelwydden Castle

I have an Exhibition coming up from 25 April – 5 July 2015 alongside Susan Williams and Wendy Leah Dawson. I have been documenting the many signs of Tremeirchion for such a small village about 1 square mile with over 30 signs that I have managed to documenttre-20tre finals

Helfa Gelf

I’m also making a return to my third Helfa Gelf this year. I will be once again camped out in Haus Of Helfa, Llandudno after receiving confirmation of my work been selected. Think poems rubber bands and 360 degrees

 

Connect 2

Ffloc has been selected to work on a 3 week residency as part of connect 2 at Aberystwyth Arts Centre during May which will entail a visually projected element and poetry. This is going to be a massive challenge but great fun. This is to evolve into a bigger project IMG_20150327_160545

 

Dissecting a space, Words by Alan Whitfield


The spaces pull,
Under my skin.
No surface itches,
Drawn to the light.

Inside the whale,
Tentatively,
Contemplating,
Shafts of white.

A nasal breech,
Sawdust,
stale bleach,
Industrial fridge murder.

Christmas rush hush,
long gone.
Blaming lame public,
Purchase pessimism.

And you will stay no more,
No carpet floor.
A black corner.
No longer warm.

 

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Flotilla


Rain returns me to lakes I dreamt I lay in.

The small drops that imitate me,

landing as a zero spreading.

to the shore where grows no more.

I know I’m not floating,

murky green silk lay tight.

The small drops are more.

Break the tranquility.

Controlling a scene,

the power in me to break.

what nature is surrounding me,

conveying the un-pocketable.

Too my eye it won’t break.

In shadow brings depth.

Ripples return from the edge

Still…

The Box or Road End


This is a poem about me. I went to my first Liverpool F.C game in 1987 and my first Widnes R.L.F.C game in 1983. So aged 3 and 7 them memories etch into your brain. A right of passage what ever you go onto. Know one can take your teams away from you. I was lucky enough to spend time in a recent exhibition in Oriel Mostyn in Llandudno. I the presence of a Box used by artist Gareth Griffiths to take his son’s to match at Anfield. The power of ‘The Box’ moved me…

Thanks for sharing it with us Gareth!

 

Road End

Not my White box.

Someone else’s vantage point,

chips hold stories,

celebration, sadness, glory.

On that afternoon,

like a full stop,

alone it stood,

together, raised scarfs taught.

Your words made me feel 9

The feeling surrounds me lots of looking up.

The raised rim on a plastic flask mug.

The floor touching my feet through worn souls.

The Safety and smells of cut grass before me.

Winter cold rattles my mittens.

Floodlight halo’s dot my eyes.

Barbwire fences brown glass spikes.

Thousands packed in tight.

Now I’m back and still no connection?

Just know I’ve been there.

A time so much simpler?

Black and white Red or blue…

A poem about my day turning monochrome


I wrote this about the time when you have to stretch your eyes to see into the dark of fading day light. Winter on the North East coast cast of Scotland is a challenge. If you travel on a trains you will know the feeling

As the day colour fades

Monochrome,

distant hills.

Dirty Sheep,

a white rutted field.

Seven lines,

follow our track,

Zipping information.

Our cyber world.

Wind swept,

Remote.

These commuters,

hardened folk.

Platforms pull in.

Foot prints in snow

Well trodden greats,

Departure or home.

Black thicket bushes,

break up the white.

Darkness grows stronger,

retracting the light.

 

A poem about leaving. Last Call For Whitfield


3 1/2 hours on train in 25 degrees builds a certain momentum to leave. Add this with the deadline of a departing flight to catch. In the time on the train from Milazzo to Palermo the only entertainment was a rather large bee that was flying up and down the carriage. If i could have vignetted the corners of my field of vision it would have been a seen from a classic european film. Everyone was watching this bee with a look of ‘don’t come near me’. It could have run a mock on the packed train. It also got me thinking that when it went backwards down the carriage does that class as time travel?

Last Call For Whitfield

Churn,
On time,
Just!
Mount settle breath.

Sound makes sense,
but I don’t understand.
Round beads form,
Fall like the words.

Moving fast,
Time dam slow!
How long can it last.
Where to look.

And I’m sick of the sea,
straight blue line beauty,
Following me home,
Crashing harrowing free.

A dog sleeps alone.
The platform grown.
Drunk man ego.

Bump!

I arrive,
Get me out,
Away.
To be free…