Retrospective moments & Restoration drama

I had high hopes of the current Tove Jansson exhibition at Dulwich Picture Gallery, which I visited on Thursday, and it totally exceeded them. I realised she was more than a clever illustrator from the existential anguish and ever-present incomprehensible wildness that pervades her magical tales of Moominland, but I hadn't expected the richness of her candid & personal paintings - I love this one of her family, with Tove herself slightly caricatured, watching her brothers play chess just before the war. (Lars, the one who is not in uniform, became her business partner & collaborater later in life.)
Tove was a passionate pacifist, and her cover illustrations for the Finnish satirical magazine Garm throughout the war years show her views. This 1944 one is filled with little Hitlers, robbing farms and households, torching barns, and trying on a crown. There's a tiny little creature clasping the M in this cover, and also on others, who later evolved into Moomintroll...  The popularity of the Moomin characters and stories led to comic strips and merchandise but Tove accepted few commercial propositions - for Amnesty, UNICEF and the Red Cross she made an exception. She also seems to have had a filtering policy on her literary illustrations, apparently only taking The Hunting of the Snark, The Hobbit, and Alice in Wonderland.  
After a couple of hours at the gallery I wanted to buy up the gift shop, but calmed myself with a reminder of some of the permanent treasures of this extraordinary little gallery, the first dedicated art-gallery in England and home to treasures like Gainsborough's Linley Sisters, Murillo's street urchins, Rembrandt's Girl at a Window, Reynold's portrait of Mrs Siddons being tragic, and a mesmeric self-portrait by John Opie.
Time then for a wander round the rest of Dulwich with my brother, who has a far better recolletion of this part of south London we both grew up in, me in the 1950s and he in the '60s. It's changed a lot, is all I can say, and all for the better. (Thanks Pete for the picture)

Still on a time-trekking theme, this time back to the days of Abigail's party, with the launch of Return to Kirrin at Hunting Raven Books. Set in 1979, it's an affectionately-spoofy envisaging of the grown-up lives of Enid Blyton's renowned quintet ~ and that's as many clues as I'm allowed without getting sued. Co-authors Suzy & Neil Howlett shared their skills, Neil providing pace & plot while Suzy added detail and nostalgic enthusiasm for Blytonesque style of story-telling: 'like that baby fleece you cuddle up to, and then grow out of.' There's uncertainty around the location of Kirrin, claimed by Dorset as based around Corfe but perhaps more plausibly an island off Cornwall seen by Enid on holiday. It seems appropriate that these origins are lost in the past.  My own experience of the jolly japers is limited to the Comic Strip Presents version in 1982, but then I had an odd childhood. A retro-party at Three Swans led to interesting comparisons of era & values, and lashings of canapes. (Incidentally, the famous phrase "lashings of ginger beer" never appeared in any of the Famous Five books... oops, gone and used the FF words. Sosumi!)
Now a leap backwards of over 300 years, with a revival of a Restoration Comedy classic: The Provoked Wife as produced by Stepping Out Theatre is lavishly stylish and authentic in every Baroque detail ~ even the venue.
Kings Weston House just north of Bristol is a long trek from Frome, but there's something quite magical about watching a play written by John Vanbrugh in the mansion he himself designed for the politician Edward Southey in the early 18th Century. In a room panelled with life-size Gainsborough-esque portraits, with lighting enhanced by chandeliers, an in-the-round performance allows the audience an intense connection with the shenanigans and improprieties of the characters. In these genteel surroundings, we sit quiet as the sylphs in Rape of the Lock (Pope too is scathing of the affectations of this era), and find ourselves voyeurs of plots both predacious and mendacious. I won't go into details ~ there's a lot of story, and it moves fast ~ other than to say the wife in question, Lady Brute, decides to take revenge by an affair, and the knock-on effect is no end of lasciviousness and frivolity. In the midst of this is a jealous neighbour and her french maid, who is really a bloke called Tom (Sam Dugmore) in frock, wig, and lippy. There's an abundance of frocks, wigs, and lippy actually: the provoking husband dons one when drunk, the magistrate he's hauled up before next day is clearly wearing a corset... Costumes are a huge part of this show, as is the amazing music (baroque with undertones of Benny Hill) created by Colin Smith and John Telfer.
The cast of eight are all strong, creating audience rapport in every scene: I was especially moved by Lady Brute and Belinda (Stephanie Manton) in a scene of rare intimacy without their wigs ~ a poignant reminder that behind the apparent licentiousness of these bored, intelligent, young women, their options were... well, nonexistent. Women, married or not, had no rights, however violent their husbands. This clever production is not only fabulous to look at and very funny, it manages to remind us of the kind of 'English' values best left behind. We're still working on some of them... Directed by Briony Waite, with the Stepping Out company support team in baroque finery to set the mood, and an after-show supper in the dining hall as extra excitement.

A half-hour Uber-ride, and three centuries, away in central Bristol, Luke Wright was performing The Toll at the Wardrobe Theatre. This photo isn't quite right hair-wise, but I can't find one closer: the Johnny Bevan look is gone and it's boyish again ~ in fact Luke still complains he's I-Dd regularly when trying to do grown-up things. It's probably difficult to know how to follow a multi-award-winning show (for both acting and writing) and Luke has gone back to what he also does so well: intimate performance of powerful poems. His tour takes its name from his latest collection, but it's the chat that makes these poems ones to hear as well as read. Luke is a master of traditional formats and wordplay and wit, but it's his narrative ballads, serious, satirical & often sad, that stay. And I really like that he opened with one inspired by coming to Frome and seeing Cley Hill.

Which brings me nicely back home to Frome, where Wednesday was an excellent night at the Grain Bar Roots Session with Swampgrass, an amazing blues band from Glastonbury, ably supported by Julian (Bugs) Hight.

As winter creeps in there's been much lantern-making, in free workshops run by Mel Day and Aliss Vaas, where so many lanterns have been made I'm surprised there's not a national shortage of withies and tissue and sloppy white glue. It's all for a candlelit procession on December 1st, and this is Orion's creation in progress, being recorded by a Danish film crew who arrived in town last week to film the Doings of Frome ~ the sort of thing that often happens here.


Finally this week, Sunday's Chocolate Festival, an annual jollity when Cheese & Grain hall is crammed with stalls dedicated to all things chocolatey, from a recreation of Willy Wonka's Factory garden to chocolate shoes and make-up, there's every colour, texture, and flavour imaginable & then some more (lime & chilli is delicious) and the smells are amazing. Here's a glimpse of the crowded hall, with Empress of Chocolate herself, Jo Harrington, looking happy. As she should.  Now I'm off to nibble on a slice of Kraken Rum & Raisin Cheesecake. 

The media-mad edition - hits, misses & surprise-surprise...

This has been a week of unexpected occurrences.  The first was landing in Birmingham on my flight home from Dublin, and the biggest surprise came on Friday.
On Wednesday, Frome enjoyed the long-awaited reopening of Frome's Westway cinema with all the promised perks: viz bar and £4 entry for all. I missed the party atmosphere (also La La Land but no problem with that) as Alison Clink & I were being interviewed on the 'Afternoon Spot' on Warminster radio hosted by Richard Platts, talking about using personal experiences in writing.
The much bigger miss came on Friday...
Richard has a genial approach ('I'm not Paxman') and a relaxed broadcast style ('People tell me they like rough edges') for our enjoyable session of chat and readings.

Frome Art corner now: there's an exhibition of photographs 'From the corner of my eye' at Black Swan Arts, and there's also Tim Gander's impressive Routes exhibition in La Strada Cafe: This collection of portraits of those using this facility for 'young people looking for somewhere to go or someone to turn to' is an urgent attempt to save a Drop-In facility under threat. The youngsters' portraits each have a personal plea: "They really are the only safe space in Frome for people like me, and I’ve found a wonderful volunteering opportunity there in their youth cafe" says Mona Vaas.  Donations valuable & much appreciated.

In an outstanding week for live music in Frome, Wednesday's Roots Session at the Grain Bar had a fabulous double bill with Julian (Bugs) Hight launching his new CD Independent State of Mind, and indie-folk band Velvet & Stone back from Devon. Plus, for bonus, an afternoon drop-in too from Dreadzone at Raves from the Grave to sign copies of their powerful new album Dread Times.

On Friday, for Mutartis Boswell's poster as well as the 'post punk / alternative rock sound & visuals', I'd have booked for Are We Still Alive at the Wheatsheaves, but I was guest poet in Bath's poetry cafe
What a Performance at St James' Vaults - a cracking night of song and storytelling as well as poetry. Here's Dexter Selboy & the Shonky Trio, the band who make 'indescribable' a good thing. Thanks for making me welcome, small audience, and for buying all my books!

And Friday was the night Foo Fighters played in Frome - yes, really, live and rocking. TV's Points West featured the leaked-on-the-day secret visit, Frome Standard had a live feed outside the Cheese & Grain as rumour became reality, and facebook fizzed with excited snaps, selfies, and sensationalism all night.  The band left a public message as well as a big gloaty grin of delight for all of Frome. HEY.... (they wrote in a font that Mutartis would approve) STILL BUZZING FROM OUR FIRST GIG IN 1 YEAR, 3 MONTHS, AND TEN DAYS - SHAKING OFF THE DUST FOR THE SWEET PEOPLE OF FROME WAS THE BEST WAY TO DIVE INTO ANOTHER YEAR... AND MANY MORE SURPRISES...

This would be a good note to end this post of hits & misses, but there's a useful footnote I don't want to omit: our famous Independent market restarts next week and, to prove the cultural importance of Frome's first-Sunday-of the month celebration, Great Western Railways posters now feature it as an inducement to grab a train and head along. As their rail links extend from London to Taunton and to Cardiff (with a connection to Fishguard and Rosslare), be prepared for crowds. Best bring a thermos & leave the dog at home...

Frome Festival day 2... time travel and feasting

A day of art and music in the streets of Frome: The Open Studios trail comprises 62 local artists in twenty venues around the town offering free viewing this & next weekend. I made a start with Sam West's paintings~ so well integrated with her house that this one lives above the cooker ~ the Bennett Centre, and the Old Wool Arts Store where I found driftwood angels and sea-glass jewellery.

Meanwhile authors were gathering for a signing at Hunting Raven bookshop and musicians queuing to perform at the Archangel throughout the day. Here's Bugs, aka Julian Hight, who featured in both line-ups.

Then on to Millenium Green, the start point of Time Walk ~ the story of the earth in a thousand paces, the project Annabelle Macfadyen and I have been working on for months... if not longer. From the supernova explosion that started our solar system to the present moment, "with all our evolutionary history inside us, essentially part of this Earth, made of stardust, and bacteria, and shaped by the fish and reptiles and the early mammals we once were, within the web of life, from the beginning of time." I  seriously did more research for this project than for my degree, but it was terrific fun and our group of walkers was gratifyingly appreciative. Phew. What's next.

Well, the Food Feast, of course (African Kitchen my pick) with the marvellous Street Bandits leading a parade into the market yard where free music plays all night once the mayor, wearing a bio-degradeable chain, has completed the official Festival opening, which took all of two minutes, then hundreds of us watched the Milk Street Band,  then Daisy Chapman & Sue Law, then The Pigeons... ~ that's one of them below ~ and by now evening sunshine is ceding to dusk and I have been dancing with the Lady Mayoress for some time so we all decide to move on up to the tapas bar for a nightcap... and so ends day two.

Hi, November...

I've been avid to see Philomena since I first read about the true story that inspired it ~ the lost little boy and his mother's journey of atonement ~ so the first showing at the Westway on release day saw me seated in style in one of the much-coveted half-circle 'boxes' at the back (I mention this because Frome's wonderful independent cinema deserves a plug at every opportunity.) I've not read Martin Sixsmith's book, but Stephen Frears' film superbly told this moving personal tale. Judy Dench and Steve Coogan are both utterly brilliant ~ Martin Sixsmith writes he hopes his 'snootiness and self-absorbtion' are both exaggerated in the portrayal, but both the mother and the journalist are shown with sympathy not sentimentality, and their relationship is moving but never mawkish.  Rotten Tomatoes is succulent with critical acclaim ~ I specially like the Financial Times verdict: "This is a doleful, radiant, understated comedy of hope and faith. That's almost a definition of good British cinema". Tears and laughter is the general verdict, though one squashed tomato was chucked on grounds of anti-catholicism, which seems strange for a film that despite the harrowing, angry-making, truth about Church practice in the past is delicately assertive that things have improved... and so they bloody well should, since this was a baby-farm business model run on cruelty and hypocrisy (not my summary, the Guardian's.) Only occasionally does the journalist fail to swallow his atheism ~ as when exasperated by Philomena's unshakeable insistence on her 'sin' he demands "Why did God bestow on us a sexual desire that he wants us to resist - was it just to alleviate the extreme boredom of omnipotence?"

Nunney Acoustic Café on Sunday afternoon always provides great live music ~ with newspapers and scrummy food on the side ~ but this month was especially sensational, featuring among others David Waddington, Julian (Bugs) Hight, and the fabulous combo of Richard Kennedy and Pete Gage with a sumptuous & totally stunning blues set.   And rain doesn't stop outside play in Frome either: the streets were as crowded with witches, zombies, and vampires on Halloween as they were with shoppers for Sunday's lively stall-holders' Super Market. So I'll end this post with a Samhain scream and a morning rainbow.