Tag: Poetry

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

 

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…

A poem of my new found dislike of flying.


I’m not sure when i decided i didn’t like flying. I think the boredom makes me think too much about it. The sea, however off the coast of the U.K looked beautiful. Also flying over southend pier (Britan’s longest pier) was a moment to savour the sheer length of it. A strange set of circumstances…

AlItalia

Blue cheese ripple.
Layered black island.
Floating.
Is there direction.

Outer heat flares,
Cold hands moisten.
When did it happen,
This alien fear.

Grim tin can,
Led by men.
Circulation,
No clean air.

All gone now.
Looking like linen,
Too there and back.
Covering many stories.

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The night Black & White Met.


The night Black & White Met.

Monochrome,

On distant hills.

Sheep look dirty,

on white rutted fields.

7 lines,

Follow our track,

Sending information,

To the world,

And back.

Wind swept.

Remote.

These commuters,

Hardened folk.

Platform pulls in,

Foot prints in snow.

Well trodden greats,

Return from departure hrs ago.

Black Barisal bushes.

Break up the white.

Darkness grows stronger,

Retracting the light.

 

Getting Laid(off) Up North; Words By Alan Whitfield80


I went to what is left of Dolgarrog aluminium works. It’s now a brown field site with one White Wall left standing…

Getting Laid(off) Up North

Valley wind dried the damp and cold.

Exterior wall white and bold.

Standing to attention,

as the 170 leave shattered but united.

Imagine a brick for each story told,

apprentice’s to Forman,

young, lazy and old.

Installed Indian shores the press still chatters.

The forgotten village,

unemployment community tatters.

the wall came first,

and still stands last.

For whom the productive past matter’s?

I can see it now…

home rang the bell,

down to the local,

gags and plans,

union rep delivers,

the mood shatters!

Closing a locker for the last time.

As the page 3 brakes a frown,

coffee mug at ease,

canvas bag to shoulder,

last latch of the gate.

He passes the same white wall,

now unemployed and brow furrowed.

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Paris and The Sickness


Salon de locomotion aerienne 1909 Grand Palais...
Salon de locomotion aerienne 1909 Grand Palais Paris. Exhibits include: Monoplan Hanriot; Louis Blériot; Delahaye; Fiat; Gnome; Darracq (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Saint Germain
Saint Germain (Photo credit: Chad and Steph)

I for the last years have been in Paris at this time of the year for Paris photo which was  in the carousel below Louvre. It has now moved over to the Grand Palais, Avenue Winston Churchill in West Paris. I’ve spent so much time walking around paris I can find my way around it pretty much without a map. It’s such a beautiful place. I’ve only been there in the autumn I kind of worry what it will look like in the summer. I Love the place

Grand Palais a Paris
Grand Palais a Paris (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I miss you

I’m dull because where i am is dull

Too which a sort out was on and all inspiration gone

No seine left me sad

Toffee Eclairs beige pants and hat

only in Saint Germain can you do that

the tower base, leave me happiest were its flat

inspiration flows creativity

Take time to shoot the right line

The winter leaves make my heart wane

Self certification it wont happen again

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