Dragonfly days, gone too soon... and downpour drama

A dramatic start to this week's blog, with A Midsummer Night's Dream as presented on the ECOS open-air stage in Frome by wonderful Illyria outdoor theatre company, uncut despite thunderous rain throughout the second act, and with a stunning rainbow overhead for the finale.  

As Oliver Gray, director and inspirational genius behind these Illyrian creations, notes in the programme, it requires a lot of hard work to create a full production of Shakespeare's triple-layered fantasy with a cast of five, all quick-changing from nobles to fairies to workmen, with complex timing required for the hi-energy physical interaction and slapstick humour of the staging.  The cast are all excellent: Sarah Coyne as a Scots Puck as well as a delightful Hermia, Lily Carter proving 6 ft 3 is no impediment to playing queen of the fairies, with Chris Laishley, Nathan Richard Smith and Richard Blackman also effectively multitasking.  Wonderful to see again this great drama about love winning through despite folly and confusion, in these destructive days when it can seem Puck's words will be humanity's epitaph: What fools these mortals be. 

Music next, with the return of fabulous Rosco Shakes to Bar Lotte, creating something of a street party with the spillage of their sensational boogie-woogie R&B sounds -  Josh, Dom, Ned, and Tim all on top form, with Dom adding a touch of flamenco to the blues from time to time. (Steve on sax joined later too.) The lads are playing Glastonbury, at the Croissant Neuf - where Cut Capers are headlining so definitely the venue to head for if you're going.

Now poetry: And, with due sympathy for anyone who suffered, those lockdowns did encourage - as well as less pollution, increased wildlife, and time for personal creativity - the connection facility of zoom for poetry workshops and performances.  This week, Bristol-based  Flight of the Dragonflies on Tuesday evening hosted an excellent poetry event featuring guest poet John McCullough 

John's collection Reckless Paper Birds won not only the Hawthornden prize for literature but also their award for best UK book of the year, so quite a large group joined host Darren J Beaney to enjoy this session.  The poems weren't Spoken Word as a slam poet would know it, so it was helpful to have the shared screen facility giving a view of the text during the poet's reading.  Among the excellent contributing poets I especially enjoyed Michael Sindler zooming in from the USA (screenshot), and Damien Donnelly in Ireland.

As this was the week that summer made a brief appearance, before quitting abruptly at the weekend, I'm treasuring the memory with a couple of snaps taken on those idyllic hot midweek days: the pantheon at Stourhead and some of the myriad pyramid orchids in the long grass...

 ... and Friday afternoon at Marston pond - no swans, but a large brood of baby ducklings, out with mama. Hopefully summer will return next week.

Ghost Town Times

This arts blog could of course do what every other creative option - gigs, plays, art-exhibitions, social get-togethers, writers' meetings - has done and go dark,  but it isn't going to. Instead, it will opine and discuss stuff. Like: 
Social history in the Movies:  Misbehaviour was at Frome's Westway but luckily BBC2 also broadcast their version Miss World 1970 - Beauty Queens and Bedlam.  The Miss World, an annual contest to find which of 58 girls in demi-nudity Bob Hope would drool most lasciviously over, was watched by over 100 million viewers at its peak, and successful contestants had all been white, despite this not being the skin colour of the vast majority of the world's population. What was exciting about this contest was that it was unexpectedly won by black Miss Granada, with 2nd place going a contestant from South Africa - not Miss South Africa, who was white, but Africa South - a new name for an entrant who was not. Also exciting was the disruption of the contest by smoke bombs, water pistols and bags of flour hurled from the audience by a small posse of Women's Liberation protesters. Probably the movie is excellent, but what was particularly interesting in the TV documentary were the interviews with the actual women involved -not just survivors of that post-colonial past but fighting founders of a more equitable present.

Books - naturally. Even if you have piles of unread, & shelves of re-readable, titles, it's still a great chance to top up: here's Hunting Raven Books' dynamic manager Tina Gaisford-Waller, for whom no accolade could be too fulsome, whose emporium last week was officially rated Best Independent Bookshop in the entire Southwest of England.
This Aladdin's cavern of luxurious wordage is also doing home deliveries within two miles, & postal beyond - click the link. (You can get cheese from the market delivered too, along with other goodies! A pretty special place, our town - though the market offer is from Dan's Somerset Deli.)
Sadly, local author Andrew Ziminski's talk at Rook Lane about The Stonemason succumbed to the shut-down but the book continues to cause a stir in the review sections. Not only a fascinating account of his unique experience as a master craftsman, this history of Britain through its stone buildings has a stunningly atmospheric authorial voice: Andrew seems to feel about stone as some do about creatures, mourning that sarsen stones have been 'hunted to extinction', and finding Avebury 'a place to be felt rather than analysed.' I took my copy to Mells churchyard to enjoy a new relationship with stones I've often visited in tribute to Siegfried Sassoon who is buried there, while picnicing quietly on a Co-op meal-deal and perching on a low grave nearby.

Which moves us to Walks, and a reminder of the wonderful series of books about trees by Julian Hight, especially his latest: Britain's Ancient Forest, legacy and lore, which has its own (downloadable) soundtrack Coit Mawr. Frome is within the last patches of Selwood forest, and massively tree-conscious: Here's the one at the start of my walk out of town towards Longleat, with Cley Hill in the background, and also another of my favourites in Stourhead, the heart tree. Stourhead has sadly closed its 'elements' - the follies, temples, and grottos within the garden - but the wider space is still available from public footpaths.

Final recommendation in this somewhat-different cultural round-up: 'online' isn't just wiki and kindle and games, it's an endless source of diversion and information on an ongoing basis. You can sign up for a regular Poem of the Day with the Poetry Foundation, and there's also Brain Pickings, a weekly article on a random literary topic (often fascinating) and Good Reads, the online book club, which includes quotes from recommended books, such as for example The Plague, by that great existentialist writer Albert Camus:

“But what does it mean, the plague? It's life, that's all.” 
“They knew now that if there is one thing one can always yearn for, and sometimes attain, it is human love.”

Wicked queens, naughty nuns, and more lights & music

I don’t go so often to Tobacco Factory Theatre since the whole area became a permit-parking-only zone, and the promotion image for this version of Snow White didn’t entice me, but luckily a friend tipped me off I was missing a treat so on a dark and icy afternoon I plodded the 40 minute trek from Temple Meads Station and was opulently rewarded. This is a fabulous production - not, though there is fair bit of audience interaction, a pantomime but a great classic story, spiced gently and entertainingly with environmental and social values. New International Encounter, here in collaboration with Cambridge Junction as well as Tobacco Factory Theatres, has a reputation for superb, accessible, story-telling - inventive, succinct, and with lively musicality. The four musicians are on stage throughout: they carry the narrative thread, create the spirit of the magic mirror, and enact the seven dwarves with (mis)calculating insistence about their number. This happy band of social misfits have all left stressful jobs to live an alternative life-style, growing seven kinds of onions and serving vegan stew in a non-gender way. They do their incompetent best to take care of Snow White, but the wiles of the wicked Queen initially wobbles the community into frightened calls for "locks, keys, fence, wall - 42 feet high, with barbed wire! and a buzzer… We’ve got to take back control!" Luckily they quickly decide,  No - this is not us. Love is what matters - an open heart.  But clear personal boundaries! 
All this is fun but doesn't distract from the Grimm focus in the tale on the wicked queen and her terrible plans.  Stefanie Mueller in this role is absolutely fantastic, swinging from near-recognisable family stuff at the start - the exasperation over teenage defiant fibs - to demonic obsession with her appearance and evil plots to kill her step-daughter (I got the blame for that, actually - one of the dubious delights of a front seat in an interactive show!) But even she is allowed a small, thought-provoking, voice when she laments, I was told I had to be 'the fairest,' nobody told me that just 'fair' would be enough. Multi-talented Ms Mueller also designed the set and costumes. This is genuinely an all-age show and it's on till 19th January - a great antidote for dark days ahead. Images Mark Dawson.

Meanwhile 700 years ago in the real world no-one was having a good time in a society dominated by the draconian rules of sex-starved, sex-obsessed church officials. Based (surprisingly closely, though the dummy left for burial probably wasn't a mop&bucket) on the true story of a nun on the run, Breach theatre created Joan of Leeds - a lusty end-of-year romp with mirth, bawdiness and song, in keeping with the Yorkshire Medieval Players they claim to be, which sounded like a fun idea and worth a trip to New Diorama Theatre although central London isn't my patch for reviews. Medieval texts abound with explicit imagery of nuns involved in all kinds of activities not associated these days with holy orders - the penis-gatherer here is at least demurely clad - and Breach seized the opportunity provided by erotic visions for much scurrilous activity and scandalous costume. There was a short unconvincing attempt to evoke a parallel with the social struggle of lesbians in the last century, but the best bits by far were the lusty erotica and hysterical absurdity.


Another evening prowl in search of festive illumination, this time to Stourhead, didn't reward nearly as well as Longleat: the concept of blasting heavy colour on specific buildings and trees benefitted neither, and the elegant vista of the lake on arrival was obliterated by oscillating vividly-coloured bobbles. You don't have to be a cantankerous dendrophile like me to recognise that Stourhead is an elegant example its era's respect for the grandeurs of antiquity and the concept of beauty in nature, and fierce floodlights detract rather than embellish.

A blast of music now:
The 'Last Bones Gig of the Year' was at the The George at Nunney,  courtesy of manager Tania, and with the massed instruments & voices of the entire village, it seemed, especially for the finale version of Fairy Tale of New York which Bones leader Paul Kirtley reckons as good the original...  certainly more celebratory. I also liked the the guitar solos on Come on Baby Light My Fire, but it was all enjoyable - big appreciation to both Frome and Nunney gangs for a great gig, to the customers who contributed to Paul's charity bucket, and of course to the man of every Bones match, Paul himself. The sound was fantastic but historic buildings don't cope well with biblical-scale downpours so my images caught the convivial atmosphere rather than the event.

Back in Frome, we've had a goldrush of brilliant bands: amazing Purple Fish bringing classic rock to the Cornerhouse on Saturday, followed next night by the utterly awesome Pete Gage band with Craig Crofton on saxophone.. two sensational events from passionate professional performers - Frome pubs must lead the world for treating their customers to great gigs like these.

The Three Swans took over to fill the gap on Sunday afternoon with an all-afternoon session from the massed forces of several local bands as traditional folk musicians from various traditions joined up with singers and players in a variety of styles from swampy funk to 80's pop. This was a real party event, with all ages crammed into the upstairs room amid the rococo furniture and startlingly retro wall adornments.

Happy celebrations whatever you choose to do - see you after the flack has settled on a new year.

Arty start to 2019 and other January tidings

The arty start to the new year begins at Bath's Holburne Museum (specialism: knowledgeable & chatty volunteers) which has several temporary temptations enhancing its Georgian splendour this month: That marvellous study of '60s iconography and human nature Mr and Mrs Clark and Percy has been shoehorned into the long gallery with the silverware, where it succeeds in looking utterly stunning, glimmering beyond the teapots as you enter. Ossie Clark influenced so many of us in those ruffled chiffonny days of spliffs and parties, and David Hockney's disarming simplicity of style has mirror-like clarity. Simply staring was one of those epiphany moments, spilling over with nostalgia, and our small group of visitors, strangers on entry, began confiding in hushed voices, awed like pilgrims in Chartres when the sunlight shines through the stained glass rose windows. More treats upstairs too, with an on-loan exhibition of Gainsborough's portraits of his theatrical chums - Mrs Siddons of course, Thomas Linley, John Henderson, and others who trod the boards of Drury Lane and the Haymarket - and also the boards of Bath's own Theatre Royal, which acquired its licence through the influence of Gainsborough's friend, the architect John Palmer. No photography is allowed in this gallery but this National Portrait Gallery image of the painting of David Garrick, 18th century equivalent of Hugh Grant, shows how much more fluent Gainsborough's portraiture becomes with friends, when there was no need to give enhanced evidence of status, wealth, or lapdogs.
Bath in winter sunshine, with Wedgwood blue sky and gilded buildings, is an artwork in itself of course so with visuals very much the theme of the day, my next drop-in was the Victoria Art Gallery by Pulteney Bridge. The current visiting exhibition is On Paper: from the Arts Council Collection. The connecting notion of this small collection is that all use paper 'as a material in its own right rather than just a surface to be painted or drawn upon.' Collage seems an obvious process, and there are some examples (including a reconstruction of Wittgenstein's thought processes by Eduardo Paolozzi) as well as other more esoteric interpretations of the theme. I quite like this portrait of Sid Vicious in paper, board and glitter by Jim Lambie - the extra glow is reflected room lighting - not sure whether or not it's enhanced...

A fascinating & provocative new exhibition opened on the first Friday of the new year at Frome's Black Swan Arts: Eleanor Bartlett's paintings on the theme of Matter - challenging in that the artist (here pictured) demands 'does art have to mean anything?' and fascinating in that this seems contradicted by her premise - that 'matter describes form and form resolves matter in a continuing and unstable exchange...  the chosen vehicle of realisation, literally the stuff of imagination...'  The Words at the Black Swan workshop on Monday led by poet Louise Green found much to engage with in these impressive black blocks created by tar and wax.
Other than visual imagery, the first week of the new year has been a time for favourite local walks, well wrapped up and within striking distance of a warm inn: here's Stourhead lake early on a frosty morning.



And now as the new year limbers up for its second week, normal service is resuming in the creative corridors of Frome. Our Nevertheless Fringe Theatre Frome Festival co-production with Frome Actors Network ~ provisionally entitled The Sex and Death Quartet ~ is back in rehearsal, and Roots Sessions at the Grain Bar have restarted (hurrah!) with the fabulous Raggedy Men, on absolute peak form with our favourite punk classics and outrageously riffing up some new ones.


Final footnote for the first post of 2019: a look back at the week before christmas when Hunting Raven Books sold FIFTY-FOUR copies of Frome Unzipped - fingers crossed book-tokens may keep the roll going a bit longer... Our popular independent bookshop was on ITV West News on Wednesday too, with its manager the lovely Tina Gaisford-Waller rightly extolling her books, her staff, their customer-care, their customers, and our town.

Autumn medley: art, words, & a brilliant SLAM in Bristol

Stourhead in October consoles winterphobes like me for the ending of summer. The Temple of Apollo is particularly consoling as he was a major inspiration to Keats and other romantic sun-worshippers.

A further attraction last week was the work of Frome painter Kate Cochrane who has combined with Olivia Clifton-Bligh, Tanya Hinton and Tim Rose in First View Gallery on the edge of the park in a show they call Quartet. Here's Olivia with her massive bronze lion Bee-speaker, who has a tiny gold bee in his mouth. There's a strong connection between lions and bees from a biblical story cannily utilised by Tate & Lyle when they canned their sugary waste with the slogan Out of the strong came forth sweetness. (The quote, from Judges, begins 'Out of the eater, something to eat', so it's a kind of Ozymandias theme about power never enduring, really, but we all loved Golden Syrup anyway...) I like too the notion of telling your secrets to the bees: they don't care or tell.

Frome author Peter Clark sees his writings about his time in the middle East for the British Council as "in the genre of the Subaltern's diary: fly-on-the wall observer, not someone important in his own right." The Emirates Diaries are the latest to be published: "I didn't want to go to the Emirates," the author admitted to an attentive audience for his talk in Hunting Raven Books on Tuesday. "I thought it was an unreal country, modernist and consumerist". In the event he found much to admire among the people of the sheikdoms, and as he speaks Arabic, Peter could contribute much as well as enjoy his experience. As well as the Sheiks, other colourful characters featured in Peter's fascinating talk, like Wilfred Thesiger, who consented to an exhibition of his photographs of arabs in the 1940s & 50s, and Mrs Thatcher who left without paying her bill... This book like his previous ones is based on a daily writing habit which has accumulated into 50 volumes of page-a-day diarising. Peter's writing has been described as "quirky, digressive, and indiscreet" and he says he's happy with that. It sounds perfect to me.

The Most Popular Art Exhibition Ever has quit the Serpentine to come west, filling all three floors of Bristol's Arnolfini dockside gallery. The Analphoney, as some disenchanted Bristolians call this prestigious institution, is usually renowned for esoteric items in unfrequented rooms, but when I went on Saturday it was totally rammed for Grayson Perry. This is a show that sends you out into the city finding you are gazing at strangers with compassionate intensity. I've only experienced this after a really great play before, but then Grayson Perry's art is like theatre: he dramatises life in extreme and vivid ways. He weaves our lives in tapestries, we are bottled in vast ceramic vases, he depicts everyone from world leaders to the dispossessed. He has a special empathy for men, struggling to define manhood without jobs, money, or status. It's all very political and personal and indescribable, and you really should go and see it ~ if you haven't yet ~ before 24 December.

Grayson Perry wasn't the only sensation at the Arnolfini on Saturday: the evening brought an influx of poets and poetry fans for Bristol Poetry Festival Poetry Slam, a dazzling presentation of talent and passion as 18 performance poets presented slices of their life-view: acutely insightful, mostly witty, sometimes painful, each one showing why this art form is so extraordinarily powerful and exciting. Judging was on writing, performance, and audience response, and scores were high all round with Shaun Hill the final winner and Melanie Branton a nano-fraction behind him ~ but the 'competition' aspect becomes an exciting part of the enthusiastic appreciation in the superbly capable hands of host Claire Williamson together with Elvis McGonagall ~ who will be in Frome later this week: cue quick final push for Elvis at the Granary!!!

A busy week left me less time for enjoying the bar music sessions but Thursday gave us an extra treat from Frome Jazz Club at the Cornerhouse, where Keith Harrison-Broninski's trio was joined by John Martin on sax adding a mellow 'multiphonic' sound which gave a different mood of their set (though, sadly, from a photographer's viewpoint no further illumination.)

Somerset Arts Weeks ended on Sunday so I made a last-minute dash to Shave Farm to see the amazing collective work of 8 artists, using a range of media including film, printing, pottery, and painting, all working in barns with wonderful views across the fields towards Bruton.
Here's Frome artist Annemarie Blake painting in one of them, Terri Hogan with her Cornish seashore sketchbooks in another, and a portrait of her daughter by Kay Lewis-Bell.

And here too is the more concentrated hub of artistry in the village hall of Batcombe and Beyond that I stumbled upon en route due to Google satnav malfunction. As well as paintings and drawings, there were some intriguing envelopes by illustrator Peter Sheldon, decorated satirically as inspired by their stamps.

Sunday was Come Together day at Frome Library, a free-to-all event hosted by Fair Frome in a party-like atmosphere with music, balloons, and lots of cake, to show the range of facilities and supports available in Frome to anyone looking for companionship, activities, or any kind of support.

The Frome Street Bandits and the Frukes, as pictured here, provided the live music and among other presentations Home In Frome was there to encourage people to share & record their memories of changing times for an archive of stories that would otherwise be lost.

Finally in this slightly out-of-order week, a quick movie recommendation, because of its writerly connection and because you may think Goodbye Christopher Robin will probably be sentimentalised and sugar-frosted. It isn't. The back-lit woodland shots are gorgeous, but the child is usually anxiously trailing his shell-shocked father, who's blocked from writing by PTSD and slowly finding solace in those famous imaginings which become a product that turns his distressed son into public property and ruins their relationship.  It's a dark tale, in short, and the film ends with a reminder that AA Milne really wanted to write an anti-war book. He finally did: Peace with Honour ~ "It is because I want everybody to think that war is poison, and not an over-strong, extremely unpleasant medicine, that I am writing this book" ~ was published in 1934. Well, he tried...