Fork Rage

19Jun09

Ok – I admit I was agitated.

I’d been bottling stuff up

over a long period of time.

——-

The fork didn’t deserve it.

Even though it refused to behave like a fork should –

fell off the surface

not once, but twice,

as if it wanted to pick a fight.

——-

I should’ve turned the other cheek

but instead,

Let fly.

——-

I heard the mess

15 feet away.

——-

The shatter, not of window pane, but of plastic handle

exploding across my bathroom.

A death-rattle rage

giving out to a silent and sorry scene…

Still evident, 5 days later.

 

 

 

Fork Rage


Super Prix 2009

14Jun09

Not since the heady days of the late 80’s (hands up those who witnessed our City’s attempts to emulate Monaco?) has Brum been so brrrrruuuummmmmmed…..

I’m hoping that the accompanying images speak for themselves – because, in the absence of the continuous, faux-sporting commentary supplied by James and Craig, it is difficult to describe the tense-action-packed madness of this weekend’s event, 24-Hour non-stop Scalextric.

Staged to coincide with the Le Mans 24-hour street race, the A.E.Harris space was brought alive with the deafening sound of slot-car transmissions, coaxed and tempered by the lush vocal extemporisations of race commentators Yarker and Stephens. 

A programme of events was built around the Main track, including creative / engineering workshops for apprentice drivers (courtesy of Johnny and Colin), a great film programme presented by 7-inch cinema, smaller sideshow tracks (quick shout for Jacob here who counted up 500 laps for his very own re-run of Talladega), and a bar and cafe, run by the Kitchen Garden Cafe. 

In a gripping finale, the two contenders with the fastest-recorded lap times from the race (Jack Trow and Jake Oldershaw, locking car-horns at 1minute 10 seconds each) went head to head for the champions crown. The final moments are captured for posterity in this grainy super8 footage… (ok – it’s from a Sony Cybershot)

There was talk about a re-run next year….. bring it on!


When I was about 7, I dreamt of a giant train set, which covered the entire surface of Northfield Manor Infants School Playground.

In my mind it was only ever seen from one angle; and so subsequent flashbacks to that particular memory appear as if photographic. I know that the trains should be running (across elaborate viaducts, multi-levelled, etc.) but infact everything is still. It was a fantasy that held endless possibilities. Since then I’ve loved the idea of miniature worlds. Better still those that contain dark secrets in the detailing. A trip to the miniature village at Torbay in Devon may have started it off. Seeing Jake & Dinos Chapman’s dioramas merely confirms and legitimises the mind’s fancy.  For something truly jaw-dropping a half-day in  Miniatur Wunderland (Link…) was well worth sacrificing breakfast for to beat the queues.

Anyway, all of this is leads to Stan’s Cafe’s latest venture in the A.E.Harris space, 24-hour Scalextric. I spent a couple of hours last week helping to position a fraction of the 400m or so of track that James has procured from various ebay sources. The event will be staged this coming weekend (13-14th June)and for 24 hours solid, Messrs Yarker & Stephens will be donning their sheepskins to provide a running commentary to the racing fixtures, as they are played out by teams of hungry public. 24-Hour Scalextric has been staged to coincide with, of course, the Le Mans 24 hour race.

Highway Under Construction

Meanwhile across the West Mids, the Stan’s Cafe installation Spy Steps can be viewed and played out in the public spaces of Warwick Arts Centre. I took Things 1&2 last week and they were totally absorbed in the imaginary gameplay as suggested by the vinyl footsteps, handprints, bullet-holes and crib notes. The grand finale, in which the Bond character is lowered into a tank of piranhas, had the boys  in paroxysms of delight. I had to lure Jacob out of the lift as I was concerned that the hydraulics might get worn out or that the hyperactivity would at least arouse the suspicions of the Security Staff. But no, Spy Steps provided a licence to thrill…and to run amok in the Culture House, firing randomly with pointy gun hands.

I may not be the model exponent for linearity in narrative… (Fragmented realities are the default heart of my theatre sensibility and when it comes to reading matter I would sooner study a map than a novel – I attribute this partly to my left-handed, right-brained-ness/mess) but I found it fascinating that, with the option of directing his own narrative in this medium, 5 year old Jacob Rose chose to play and replay Spy Steps with random sequencing and without any concern or need to tie up the loose ends. A narrative could be played through like in any other interractive game, with favourite bits revisited or looped as often as humanly possible.

Just as The Black Maze discriminates on the basis of what kind of brain you have – and not on the basis of age or gender or culture – I suspect that Spy Steps will appeal to those open-minded and oriented toward the visual/kinaesthetic. It is installed at Warwick Arts Centre until 26th June. A new version of the show is being developed for Edinburgh through the latter half of August. More on Edinburgh very soon….


The arrival home from Toronto last week was a bittersweet affair. Toronto rocked. I loved it there and felt very at home, thanks in no small part to the melange of lovely people at The HarbourFront Centre and beyond, who were so welcoming and supportive of our endeavours. We brought back a few souvenirs (IceWine goodies, maple syrup, the obligatory Toronto-skyline-fridge-magnet) and left some behind for our hosts (scales, shirts, metric weights, printer, assorted stationery – in a dire attempt to reduce our baggage allowance by  25%!). After a 7-hour talkathon with my flight companion Annette, Craig picked me and crates up at Heathrow and so began  a dizzy drive back to Brum. It was now time to catch up with those left behind. 

Early next day,I picked up excitable Things 1 & 2  in their ‘Welcome Home Dad’ jester hats and drove headlong into my jetlag, as far as I could reasonably get in the direction of Mexico. The remainder of the Rose Bunch were ensconced in a house near Rock on the Camel (estuary) but I was too tired to remember anything of the first night. The following day – a grim, damp, foggy excuse for a holi-day – saw us heading  up coast past Boscastle, scene of freak flooding a few years past, to visit my dear school-chum Dave and family in their lovely new pad overlooking….. Tintagel and Lundy, apparently. Soon enough, though, asthmaboy Jacob and I went on our travels(via medical helpline and a clinic in Bodmin) to Treliske Hospital in Truro, where we saw out the remaining 3 days of our vacation. The service was excellent, accommodation clean enough, food passable, amenities quite satisfactory for 5-year old tastes. Room with a view too, for as the clouds lifted one could sniff the joy that was on offer out there.

As the weather improved, I got grumpier and grumpier. I realised that stealing the leftovers of my sick child’s hospital grub was not enough to sustain me so I snuck out past the nurses’ reception desk one night and mooched into town for a pint and a burger. 

Here’s the West Front of Truro Cathedral that night, also by chance the location for a version of the Rice Show last year.

Needless to say, Jacob is better now and bouncing around like a crazy thing, armed with a rattlebag of assorted inhalers. A return to Dave’s on the way home allowed us to sample the fog-free uninterrupted views of the coastline complete with seals swimming below us.DSC01317

Ps. Lest it causes concern with readers; yes, I know that NHS hospital accommodation is not  strictly speaking ‘free’. And I know that it is not my entitlement, as a mere parent, to steal food from the mouths of innocent poorly babes.  Jetlag sometimes brings out the worst in humanity.


Reading the Toronto listings mag last week I was totally gutted to realise that I’d missed out on a rare opportunity to see Bonnie Prince Billy performing the previous night. You really have to do your homework before you hit a town in the way we have. In the past I’ve been reliant on colleague Jake’s ability to sniff out a good gig – as was the case when we visited Los Angeles with the Rice Show in Dec. 2007. We found ourselves at a little club called The Echo in Echo Park watching Vampire Weekend, just a couple of months before they hit it big back in the UK. A week later we were watching Richard Hawley at The Troubadour (that had supposedly launched the phenomenon known as Bon Jovi, I think). Even though Jake’s entertainment schedule has been tempered with the presence of cute-baby prize winner Molly, he managed to suss out that Leonard Cohen was visiting neighbouring Hamilton, ON and so we went, taking new Rice recruit culturati Frank O’Connell with us.

Copp's Colisseum

The gig was fantastic, though something of a stadium affair, as the accompanying pic shows. Nonetheless, Leonard’s unique energy had the audience wrapt. Not to mention the fact that no one could possibly begrudge any commercial angle on the event, given that Leonard was so royally ripped off by his former manager. Hunger certainly hones the performance pitch.  I found it mesmerising at first and was blubbing by track 4 (There ain’t no cure for love). There followed an impressive playlist and the show concluded after 3 hours or so of music.

The impact of Toronto on the music scene was not well known to me – though I’ve had occasion to crank up Rush’s Spirit of Radio at times in the prelude to coming here. I managed to find a brilliant music shop on College St called She Said Boom. The first 2 things that drew my attention were Plastic Ono Band – Live Peace in Toronto 1969 and the Brian Eno/Jon Hassall Ambient Music IV (I think). On reading the reverse of this I found out that one of the tracks had been recorded at The Art Gallery of Ontario here in Toronto (!). ’nuff said.

Last night we joined fellow rice-worker Nilan Pereira for an evening of experimental music at The Music Gallery, which involved a solo extemporisation by Nilan with Telecaster, pedals and samplers, in which he prepared the guitar with various props and invoked the spirit of gamelan, tabla and rock shredder through his subtly shifting soundscapes. It was very fine. 

Tonight we join Nilan and friends again – this time to join in a SunRa impro celebration. Apparently this is the anniversary of Sun Ra leaving the planet. I’m looking forward to also leaving the planet, albeit temporarily, as I have the Niagara train to catch early tomorrow.


Ward's IslandMy day off drizzled.

The tough schedule kept getting tougher and with collective nerves being tested, I suspected it might end in tears.

That was yesterday though. I felt the pressure of having to explore the wonders of Toronto without any of the necessary energy. This was frustrating. Nonetheless, I took a ferry over to the Islands – mooched, cogitated…got wet. Then I walked through Kensington Market (colourful, lively, cool, happening) and on along College, East to Cabbagetown, then south through Corktown to the Distillery District, by which time the sun was shining once more.

I can’t say I rested very thoroughly in the doing, but at least I got away from the rice for a few hours, which is sometimes essential if you can sense the rice-blindness creeping o’er you.

HarbourFront Kids weekend co-incides with Victoria Day, the acknowledged start of the Canadian summertime. This means thousand of kids and their parents swarming through the HarbourFront buildings, sampling and participating in cultural activities – live performances, gallery shows and art-making. It makes for a fantastically vibrant sight. For us at the rice show it means having to set aside the weighing and laying down of rice and turn our attentions more to crowd hustling, rubbing out footprints on the paper, brushing up scattered piles and lots of conversations with the public. Outside in the Brig Tent, a rolling rice workshop in which younger folks are encouraged to produce their own statistics in rice and lay them out in a special outdoor display. Any number up to 20,000 can be counted or weighed out onto a 8 & a half  by 11 sheet (the North American equivalent. of our ‘A4’) So we had all the grade 1-2 kids at Kenollie school, the FC Barcelona squad, the most kids playing MarioKart online simultaneously, etc.

This show will beat all known records for attendance – which, I guess, will make for a good statistic.


It’s a mystery to me that anyone has bothered to read this – especially as I made no special attempt to publicise it’s arrival in the bloggosphere. The fact that people have found it is testament, I guess, to people’s natural curiosity and their ability to hunt down like-mindedness in the ether.

What I hadn’t counted on though is my champion boy Archie tracking down his dad on the school computer.

Hooray for the Interweb kids. Here’s a picture of you, boys.

Chumps in wrestling frenzy

I’m missing you hugely. Getting a chance to call you is not so easy, as the best times to phone you are when I’m working hardest – but I’m thinking of you always and wishing that we could travel together to such exciting places. One day we will. x x x x


Constance Brown seems so long ago – we’re up and running with the rice show and, to quench the thirst of a stat-driven animal, I’ll admit that in the opening 2 days we lost count after the first 1750 people through the doors…. Bill, the HarbourFront CEO, and Tina, the programming director, have been hugely complimentary about our presence here and the impact of Stan’s Cafe generally upon the venue and audiences. There was a vip reception yesterday and a more select gathering of the venue’s Board this evening. The show has developed well and would be more thorough were it not for the distractions of the multitude sweeping through the installation. At times during the past couple of days our jobs have been tantamount to glorified crowd hustlers. If the accompanying pictures fail to demonstrate that, it’s because I was simply too busy to take the pics while there were so many young people visiting  the show.

There is a fantastic programme here at The HarbourFront which integrates Education and Art in an intelligent and purposeful way – with a bias towards involving local communities in practice. The ethnic mix here in Toronto is phenomenal, even by our own accepted standards in Brum, and seeing the constant stream of school groups, of clearly mixed heritage – Somali, Tamil, Indian, Chinese, Caribbean, Euro-Canadian was not only enlightening but very heartening. A quick hand count revealed the evolving nature of Canadian history: Of 27 persons present, 16 are born in Canada, 8 have parents born in Canada, 4 have grandparents born in Canada, 2 had great grandparents…. 

There is all the optimism of America here, tempered by all the healthy wisdom and humour of the Old World. It’s a very appealing combination. And thrilling to know that your work is so appreciated here.

OATP Entrance


Wedding Day

12May09

Rice is a symbolic feature of wedding ceremonies across the world, not to mention a cheap form of confetti. The strict civil laws issued by Toronto City Hall, however, suggested that we should leave our 16 tons of newly delivered, Pretty Girl Long Grain in it’s new home at the HarbourFront, leave our colleagues at work and head the several blocks north up Bay Street.

Bernadette and I, at the allotted hour, left the frenzy of the get-in in our Elizabethan courtier outfits (helpfully loaned from the Constance Brown costumes) and made for City Hall and the 1pm wedding of Nina and Rebecca Jane. Where Toronto is strict on confetti, it is celebrated as liberal in it’s offering of Marriage Certificates to same sex couples (A Civil Partnership is the best on offer back home). And what an opportunity for NW & RJ to tie the knot while Nina is here working on the show.pre-nupt. nerves

The two of them were being very discrete about preparations, had invited few because they “didn’t want anyone to feel like they had to come” and seemed infectiously scared.

We met them outside the Star Trek nostalgio-futurism of the new City Hall in brilliant sunshine and the following 30 minutes was utterly joyous. Nina’s composed soundtrack to the ceremony set a beautiful, moving tone as both Rebecca and Nina, in their own words and with found texts expressed the depth of their love with a raw honesty. 21 years together, the significance of Maytime, the consolidation of all their attentions, tribulations and all their desires wrapped in this declaration of the new. My hastily applied make-up runneth…

In the blissful excitement that immediately followed, official photos were taken. These are not they, but pending their arrival you can see more of mine by clicking here…

Bernadette and I hailed a cab and headed back south for further rice action.

Vows in the City Hall


It’s a big day for the remaining Stan posse. Whilst Billy supervises the load-up of the Constance Brown set – back into it’s shipping container, the rice arrives at the Harbourfront in readiness for Day 1 of the get-in and a quick cab dash at lunchtime will see us at the City Hall, where Nina and Rebecca Jane will tie the knot. Very exciting !!! More later, with pics….