We’re Lost: The First Second At The End Of Times A2 print
Limited edition of 31.
Limited edition of 31.continue reading
Size: A2: 42 x 29.7cm / 16.5 x 11.7 inches.
Signed and numbered.
Shipped wrapped in string.
Printed with archival Giclée pigment inks on Hahnemühle Photo Rag 100% cotton paper.
I seem to be mentioning Rob Young’s Electric Eden book a fair old bit in A Year In The Country… I knew it had seeped into my consciousness but as I work through this year I’m realising just how much some of his concepts have taken root, informed and sent me off on new exploratory pathways.
Anyway, while wandering down those pathways, particular ideas and discoveries have stayed with me…
Folk music: although I hadn’t overtly studied it as a concept, I think I had been mildly bemused by the phrase folk music – I tended to think of folk meaning from the people, ie all the folk of a land and I had wandered how music that seemed to have often (today at least) a relatively limited appeal could therefore be called folk music. How could it be of the people if it wasn’t all that popular? And it definitely wasn’t “pop” music.
Mr Young’s book helped settle this via his comments on the roots of the words/concepts of folk and pop: rather than referring to a sense of all the people of the land, folk music is the music of the ‘volk’, derived from the Germanic/teutonic wald, the wild wood whereas the word pop (ie popular music) comes from the Latin populous, which refers more to the larger populations of cities etc.
He talks of how pop culture derives from centrally controlled, regimented urban communities (Roman urban populi) which were entertained/appeased/distracted by mass spectacles; gladiatorial entertainment and comedic dramas; “pop is the culture of imperial socialization, of institutionalized religion, consensus, and commerce.”
Folk, however, is much older than pop. Coming from “the wild wood”, it is from a culture where peasants, vagrants and villagers bore song from the wood, the forest, the barbaric heath; a society which was sometimes savage, often ad hoc, pre-Christian and where rituals endured and perplexed their heirs.
As cultural forms/phrases therefore one comes from the city (and later I suppose the concrete), one from elsewhere, out in the fields and forests.
Along which lines regarding the roots of folk and how as a culture it has come to encompass a sense of an “other” or Wyrd Britain, here’s a paragraph from Tiny Mix Tapes review of the book:
“For Young, the possibilities of folk are represented by the Wald, the wild woods of Northern Europe’s interior and their fairy tales. The Romans attempted to clear away these woods during their European campaigns, but they survive in the English place names ending “-wald,” “-wold,” or “-weald.” Other fragments and echoes tantalize: Why do English sword dancers lock their swords into mystical symbols such as the pentagram or the six-sided star? Why do denizens of Whittlesey march down the street behind a straw bear every January? Folk culture represents, for Young and many of the mystics, eccentrics, hippies, and socialists of his book, a store of secret knowledge, of hidden possibilities that the past offers up to the future. Folk attempts to restore what Young calls “an Other Britain,” but as Young convincingly proves in this book, this Other Britain never really existed, because every moment of the past was really itself a present, a simultaneous looking-back and looking-forward.”
In many ways it could be said that the story of folk music/culture/folklore is in part one of the differences/separateness of culture from the city vs the wald or the populi vs volk. Or more literally folk vs pop.
There are oodles of articles and writing about Electric Eden out in the world, here are three of the ones that I’ve referred to the most:
As an aside, the subtitle to this page could also have been “From the wald to The Wombles”. What would be the reason for that you may ask? Well, it refers to what happens when folk meets or tries to become pop… And what appears to happen in the 1970s is that you arrive at a point where you have a hit single by one of folks more popular purveyors, Steeleye Span, put together by the producer of that most pop of combos The Wombles. Which as an idea and culture clash (or should that be connection?) I quite like…
If you’re curious it’s their version of All Around My Hat… although I know by this point folk has probably wandered quite a way from it’s roots but I don’t really mind; the video to the song captures a certain point in time, nuances of British and my own history. Plus it just makes me smile and cheers me up, which is not a bad thing for music to do.
It’s a very enjoyable 1 hour, 38 minutes and 23 seconds, wherein he talks about his inspirations, how he wanted to try and work out how what has become known as folk music/culture all knotted together; from traditional and what is considered authentic folk music through to the latter day exoticism of contemporary folklore influenced work such as The Wickerman (to my mind and it seems to his also, all such strands could be seen as authentic; all work has to spring from somewhere and it’s the intention/effect rather age and historical traceability that implies whether it’s the “real” thing or not).
The program draws a coherent, eloquent picture of these connections and his studies, soundtracked by a selection of relevant songs (including Talk Talk, Peter Bellamy, Steeleye Span, John Ireland, Dave Cousins, Archie Fisher, Mandy Morton & Spriguns, Robin Williamson and Alasdair Roberts).
If you don’t have the time to devote to reading all of Electric Eden’s 672 pages I would thoroughly recommend the broadcast as an overview or precis; if you have or plan to read the book then it’s a fine accompaniment.
You can listen to the Exotic Pylon / Jonny Mugwump / Rob Young show here.
As a final point… I’ve mentioned it before but Mr Young’s blog is also worth a peruse, particularly if you fancy a wander off into the digital garden via his selection of links, which is nicely split into The Isle Is Full Of Noises, Music From Neverland, Poly-Albion, Turning Leaves, The Magic Box, Paradise Enclosed and (more prosaically) Blogpile.
View his blog here.continue reading
Day #39/365: Burn The Witch by Ms She Rocola, a stately repose amongst the corn rigs and Victorian light catching
And while we’re on the subject of folk horror (see Day #37/365 at A Year In The Country)…
This is a song by a good friend and sometimes creative compadre Ms She Rocola (and her compatriots in sound).
She sent me a link to it a while ago and it stuck in my mind like billy-o… it’s all glacial presentation, jade eyed jealousy and enchantment, slightly unsettling violins and a wandering off into the lost lives of the Pendle trials.
Listen to the song here.
It’s also accompanied by a rather fine photograph by Zoe Lloyd; a stately repose amongst the rural landscape and corn rigs, a folkloric meandering through the textures of Sarah Moon and Deborah Turbeville (this particular entrancing of the soul was created using light catching techniques from previous eras – traditional wet plate to be more precise).
View more here.
Music by Andrea Fiorito, Words by She Rocola.
Violin: Andrea Fiorito, Vocals: She Rocola.
Recorded by Andrea Fiorito & Joe Whitney 2013
A hop and a skip to the future:
Burn The Witch has been released as on a limited edition CD by A Year In The Country as part of our Audiological Case Studies series. View that at Day #272/365.
Trails and Influences:
Electronic Ether. Case #2/52.
Now, I have to admit I’m actually a bit of a wuss where the horror genre is concerned: I’m too easily unsettled and gore leaves me repulsed/cold/I don’t really see the point of it.
However, I do make an exception for certain areas of what has become known as folk horror. Although it still can give me the heebie jeebies so I tread carefully and occasionally.
Folk horror? What’s that? Well, it’s generally applied to a film/tv/literary/cultural horror genre that often concerns itself with folklore and/or is set in and around rural areas/intrigues; drawing from the wald rather than the city.
To a degree, at least filmically, it could be said to largely start with a quite small set of films: there’s kind of an accepted canonic trio which takes in The Wicker Man at the top, followed by The Witchfinder General and Blood On Satans Claw (not necessarily always pleasant films, particularly the last two… though sometimes I forget that The Wicker Man isn’t a jolly folkloric singalong of a film but actually something much more, well, horrific).
Interestingly, this small group of films all sprung into existence in the early 1970s, a time when things folkloric/folk music/rustic experienced an upsurge of interest in the UK: possibly in reaction to and escape from the political, social and economic turmoil the country was experiencing at the time (industrial unrest, ineffectual government, high inflation, the final fading of empire dreams, internal insurrection and so on).
Anyway, a place I periodically return to in the electronic ether is Folk Horror Review, a site which concerns itself with goings on in the, well, folk horror genre. It’s not updated all that often, which I quite like as it gives it a more curated sense than some of the internet and it feels like a treat when there is a new post on it.
(There are loads of films which could be deemed folk horror which are often just quite nasty exploitation numbers – a group of tourists/outsiders move into/visit a rural setting, they don’t understand the old ways they come across and meet a grisly end via various supernatural/pagan forces seems to be the plot of most of them – but this blog doesn’t really overly concern itself with such things. It’s more interested in the odd and the otherly albion… hauntological, eldritch, intriguing and a touch cerebral rather than blood splattered I guess.)
So, at Folk Horror Review there are posts on The Wicker Man (of course) and it’s possible forebear Robin Redbreast, ghostly scribe Arthur Machen, the contemporary psychedelia (?) of A Field In England, Strange Attractor/Texte und Töne’s lovely The Twilight Language Of Nigel Kneale book, The Stone Tape, various BBC Ghost Stories For Christmas, Kenneth Anger’s Lucifer Rising, Children Of The Stones, Psychomania (Nicky Henson in a 1970s UK zombie-motorbike-riding film… sign me up), Alistair Siddon’s In The Dark Half and interconnected items such as the compilation album that accompanies Rob Young’s Electric Eden, Hail Be You Sovereigns, Lief and Dear from Cold Springs dark folk britannica album series, the BFIs DVD release of film recordings of folk customs and ancient rural games Here’s A Health To The Barley Mow and A Fiend In The Furrows – an academic conference which explored folk horror in it’s various forms.
Basically, in part it’s not too dissimilar to some of the paths that A Year In The Country follows and as a site it creeps through the briars and undergrowth of a not always so idyllic rural landscape.
Wander through the glens here: Folk Horror Review
A Fiend In The Furrows here.
Cold Springs John Barleycorn Reborn CD series here.
The internet is full of all kinds of corners and niches… but this is one of my favourites.
What is it? Well, it’s a visual collection of a very specific stylish take on folk and folklore culture; if Michelangelo Antonioni’s Blow Up had taken it’s starting point to be the wald rather than Swinging London, with art direction by Kenneth Anger if he had grown up in a secret garden corner of England rather than California and hung out with Judy Dyble rather than The Rolling Stones… and if the resulting film had been shot on location in a secluded green grove rather than the Kings Road…
…and if this imaginary celluloid dream had a soundtrack where the pastoral-playland-bubble living hipsters of The Touchables (an intriguing film which is also featured in Psychedelic Folkloristic), Miss Jean Shrimpton and her companions etc had been serenaded by late ’60s/early ’70s folk rock rather than Herbie Hancock and psychedelic pop minstrels Nirvana (no, not the well known Nirvana)…
Well, if most of those numerous ifs had happened then the vision and aesthetic that was presented to the world might well have been similar to the one found in Psychedelic Folkloristic.
The site explores what in many ways are familiar tropes of the other albion side of folk culture but how it is selected and put together creates a much more pleasing on the eye, suave, (fashionable?) take on such things… ’60s high fashion glamour having a cup of tea out in the fields amongst the old monuments indeed. Suprisingly refreshing to view as a take on a culture that is often thought of more in terms of anti-glamour and a rejection of style.
I suppose many of the photographs were drawn from a brief flicker of time when the beautiful people were interested in/adopted some of the aspects of folk culture and music… a time since which there have only been the occasional brief moments when the spotlight of more pop-culture/populist attention has shone on such things
(One of the only such times is probably in the mid-2000s when the largely American, loosely connected likes of Devendra Banhart, Joanna Newsome, Coco Rosie etc were a flavour of the moment… or “the popular kids” as Jeanette Leech, author of Seasons They Change: The Story of Acid and Psychedelic Folk, wrote”).
Some of the inhabitants of Psychedelic Folkloristic? Well… Mellow Candle, Dando Shaft, Celia Birtwell, The Owl Service, Sandy Denny, Ossie Clark, Penelope Tree, The Stone Tape, Pattie Boyd, the aforementioned Jean Shrimpton and her sister Chrissie (Mick Jagger’s one time beau), Homer Sykes, Anita Pallenberg via Performance, alongside an intriguing set of semi-lost book covers. That small list of those who dwell in the gently lysergic meadows of Psychedelic Folkloristic and the photographs from the site on this A Year In The Country page will probably give you an idea of what I mean by ’60s high fashion glamour meeting folk culture.
…I’m not sure if the world and aesthetic that Psychedelic Folkloristic presents existed in as coherent form as the site presents it but I don’t think that’s the point; as much as anything it is creating it’s own world from essentially found and collaged imagery and to be honest it’s a world that I could just lose myself in for hours.
Arianne Churchman who puts it together says on the site that she “suffers from slight decade displacement”, which leads me back round (again) to Rob Young’s idea of “imaginative time travel” and “experiments in consensual hallucination”… this site, if anywhere, is a good expression of such things.
Always a treat to visit and have a look-see at and wander through this particular electronic field, this is a lovely and lovingly curated set of images.
Visit it here: www.psychedelicfolkloristic.tumblr.com
Arianne Churchman’s site is here.
I Thought I Head A Sound event.
Not updated for a while but well worth a peruse and meander through: Rob Young’s Electric Eden
“They Come Unbidden ” string bound book.
Limited edition of 31.
Contains 12 images from A Year In The Country:
Images A, B (variation), C, D, E, F, G (variation), I, J plus 3 others.
Printed using archival Giclée black/grey pigment inks.continue reading
Each book is handstamped, hand signed and numbered on the rear outside cover.
Book page size: 29.7 x 10.5 cm / 11.7 x 4.1 inches.
Book page count: 24 pages (12 printed).
Front and rear cover printed on 300gsm textured fine art 100% cotton rag paper.
Inside pages printed on 245gsm paper.
Day #33/365: Broadcast and the Focus Group Investigate Witch Cults of the Radio Age and the recalibrations of past cathode ray stories…
Phew, well, yesterday’s post was something of a mammoth one. I think I shall try and keep this one shorter indeed as the old brainbox is a touch tired today.
This album was something of an early research/reference point for A Year In The Country. I was drawn to it for reasons I couldn’t quite put into words at the time but returning to it and looking back I can see all kinds of touchstones and reference points that have come to be a part of or influence A Year In The Country; from mis and half-remembered/half-seen television of my youth to something odd lurking beneath the plough in the English countryside, it’s all here to see indeed.
Essentially it’s a collaboration between Broadcast and their often almost member Julian House (of Ghost Box) in his Focus Group guise. I don’t intend to overly review the album, that has been done extensively elsewhere in the printed and electronic ether but suffice to say it’s a music box collage of the “classic” Broadcast dream-like pop sound and woozy, disorientating loops and samples (and as I wander around the cultural world I sometimes come across its source material… exploitation witchcraft orientated pseudo-documentaries for example)…
Something/s I really love about the album are the videos #1 : Witch Cults and #2: I See, So I See So that they co-created with Julian House to accompany it. Consciously or not I think they seeped into my mind to quite a degree…
Exploring connections to the album lead me to a particularly fine interview with James Cargill of Broadcast by XLR8R wherein he talks of drawing from witchcraft references but not taking it too seriously, more as a pulp cultural reference point by way of old horror films such as Curse Of The Crimson Altar…
…and he goes on to talk about how British kids TV of the late 1960s/1970s such as Children Of The Stones, Sky, The Owl Service (see left) etc were also quite a reference point for the album and the odd/disturbing/why were they like that? atmosphere of them.
He comments that he only half-remembers the programs, that they’re just fragments of memory and that he quite likes that, he doesn’t want to know everything about them and the having watched them on breaking up TV receptions or an old faded video added something to what made the memory of them interesting…
(When I did finally watch The Owl Service a while ago, I quite liked that the version I watched was a blurry, fuzzy, miscoloured version rather than a pristine digital copy… contrary of me maybe but I came to know of it as The Hidden Vision version).
Which as an idea tied in quite a lot with A Year In The Country; there are TV programs which I only saw snatches of as a child around the time of discovering the Two Brown Bakelite Boxes which in part lead to all this (see About) that have stayed with me and intrigued me forever more.
Over the years their sometimes odd subject matter for children’s television (for example one particular drama I saw just a glimpse of about hyper inflation and food shortages in contemporary Britain held a strong sway on my imagination for a long time) has gained other layers of interest and mystique and if I try and watch them now that is dispelled or it’s like watching a completely different program to my misremembered cultural memory of them.
Also, to add to that, as Mr Cargill says in the interviews, to watch these programs you need to recalibrate yourself as entertainment from that time had a different, slower pace. The modern mind/viewer isn’t geared up to handle them; so when watching them now, what is maybe remembered or misremembered as quite magical, well the mind used to modern cultural rhythms may just be bored or unable to take them in correctly.
PS If would heartily recommend watching the introduction to The Owl Service TV series (view it here). It feels like an almost magical communique from another time and a trail of breadcrumbs which leads to the Broadcast And The Focus Group album and videos.
I shall leave the final word on the album to a few others:
“It really is quite fabulous… (Broadcast) crowned themselves dark monarchs of hauntology’s expanding kingdom” The Wire
“As with all the best mysteries, Witch Cults resists summary. It’s difficult to shake the impression that you’ve been subjected to some brand of home magic: tuned into a paranormal frequency via shortwave radio, or seen something that you can’t quite shake conjured up using only a children’s chemistry or magic set. At the end, you’re still not quite sure what happened — but you know that it did. You’ll begin, trip and fall again.” The Quietus
“Like a strange mirage glimpsed in the depths of the English countryside…” The BBC
And well, you can’t say fairer than that (and ah well, this has turned into quite a long post again).
I never knew Trish Keenan but I was sorry to hear of her passing. I think a fitting and moving tribute was Jonny Trunk’s rebroadcasting of his OST radio show which featured Broadcast. His introduction to the rebroadcast is rather moving.
“I’d like people to enjoy the album as a Hammer horror dream collage where Broadcast play the role of the guest band at the mansion drug party by night, and a science worshipping Eloi possessed by 3/4 rhythms by day, all headed by the Focus Group leader who lays down sonic laws that break through the corrective systems of timing and keys.” Trish Keenan on the album from an unedited transcript of an interview by Joseph Stannard of The Outer Church (view the full article at The Wire.)
Day #32/365: Wyrd Britannia, Folklore Tapes, Magpahi, Tales From The Black Meadow and English Libraries
Recently I wandered off from a small English dwelling to a larger English city and then a small English town to have a watch-see-hear-explore of various things. One of which was Tales From The Black Meadow and the collaborative Folklore Tapes Echo Of Light performance (these were part of the Wyrd Britannia Festival which I’ve mentioned earlier in A Year In The Country, see Day #9/365).
And well, blimey, I’m glad I did indeed wander off to those parts.
After sitting on the train in the dark with Saturday night revellers I stumbled blinking into the night of a strange town, accompanied by other travellers headed for the same location who I’d bumped into on the train…
With scarcely a moment to take in the town we were at a lovely old library building where the event was taking place (and my fellow travellers were just able to gain entrance despite the night being sold out).
First up was Mr Chris Lambert, reading from his book Tales From The Black Meadow and informing us about this multi-faceted project which takes as it’s starting point the tale of Professor R Mullins who went missing in The Black Meadow atop the Yorkshire Moors in 1972.
As a project The Black Meadow incorporates elements of folklore, Radiophonic Scores, semi-lost documentaries and the flickering cathode ray transmissions of a previous era; a creaking rural cabinet stuffed full of hidden and rediscovered government unsanctioned reports.
I’m curious to see where it wanders off to next as to date this growing and layered world incorporates a book of folkloric tales, an album, a documentary and archival material etc. Be careful on the moors…
Next in front of this very polite, appreciative and well behaved audience was Echo Of Light, presented by Folklore Tapes and featuring Alison Cooper (Magpahi), Sam McLouglin (Samandtheplants) and David Chatton-Barker (Folklore Tapes)…
And, well, what can I say. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anything quite like this. It has been described as incorporating the projectionist as pupeteer and having watched it, I think that is an apt description.
To an electronic and acoustic soundtrack of (I think) largely improvised music, two of the collaborators were only present behind a screen from which they essentially live-mixed/live-created a series of projections using a series of physical props, found natural materials and artwork, which in turn were also used to create some of the soundtrack.
Which means what? Well, at one point an old bird-cage was placed upon a wind-up gramophone turntable and then as it span it struck a series of prongs to create music… not dissimilar in its own way to the workings of a traditional music box but on a grander and more arcane scale.
Accompanying this was a traditional spinning wheel which also appeared to be creating music.
Still can’t quite get your head around it all? Well, here are some photographs from the performance:
Alongside such things, there were also projections created which borrowed from the tropes and imagery of Folklore Tapes releases/world:
As a set of work it appeared to be an exploration of the hidden in nature and folklore which surrounds it (the pattern under the plough?).
But wait, that’s not all. As I mentioned, this was part of the Wyrd Britannia festival, which took place around a set of libraries in Northern England.
…and as I’ve also mentioned before in A Year In The Country I have a particular fondness for libraries: they seem like centres of calm, civility and culture in a rapacious landscape.
And, as I’ve mentioned before, I often get a sense that whoever is picking the stock for them has a good eye and ear for left-of-centre culture.
This is just one of those times. Organised by James Glossop who I assume also works for the libraries (?)…
The festival was actually to celebrate the relaunch of their Wyrd Britannia collection and boy-oh-boy do I wish this was my local library.
Out on display was a selection of items from the collection…
So, surrounded by the paraphernalia of a librarians work above we have Quatermass, The Miners Hymn, lost acid folk band Forest, The Owl Service’s fine album The View From A Hill (see Day 30 of A Year In The Country), The Wickerman soundtrack, Trembling Bells, Broadcast and the Focus Group Investigate Witch Cults of the Radio Age and A Year In The Country starting point Gather In The Mushrooms compilation (see Day 3 of A Year In The Country).
Well, blimey again, it’s like half of my record collection has been snaffled and made available for public use.
But wait, there’s more again…
And that’s before we get to the books that are part of the Wyrd Britannia section. I think those involved have been delving in the libraries dusty-storage rooms to find all kinds of long neglected tomes…
So, if you look closely you will see Bob Pegg’s (he of the-darker-shade-of-folk band Mr Fox) Rites and Riots, a whole other slew of books on folklore and song, various selections of witchery, The Pattern Under The Plough, Alan Garner once or twice and a particularly intriguing looking The Cylinder Musical Box Handbook.
(Looking inside the Bob Pegg book, it was taken out in 1989 and then once in 2012. There was something about the passage and lost-in-time-ness of that which quite appealed.)
Just to add the icing on the cake, the Wyrd Britannia book selection had a double topping of The Stone Tape DVD and the 3-disc Final Cut reissue of The Wickerman.
This just looked like a great library. Aside from the delights above, as I wandered around I kept seeing other swathes of culture that I wanted to delve into. I just wish that I’d had enough time to look around while the library was open.
Ah well, another time.
Well, you can’t say fairer than that.
A tip of the hat to all concerned. Thanks and cheers.
PS The trailer below was on the railway platform, which seemed kind of appropriate to the night in some way:
Various pathways and cultural breadcrumb trails:
Well, I’m kind of nervous to write about this… not sure why but in part I think it’s because it’s probably the album I’ve listened to the most in regards to A Year In The Country.
So, where to start?
Well, with the packaging, as in this case you can judge a book by it’s cover; the album is presented in a lovely and lovingly put together sleeve (artwork by Mr Dom Cooper of the Straw Bear Band and who also sings on this album, link below) which makes it feel like a precious artifact…
The music? Well, I guess it could be categorised as folk but it has it’s own take or edge to it… many of these songs are folk music mainstays and both musically and visually it uses what could be considered standard tropes of folk music, folklore and culture…
…but this is anything but a mainstream folk album. Why? Well, I can’t quite put my finger on it but there are other layers and intelligence to it all, a pattern beneath the plough as it were. As an album it feels subtley experimental but still maintains it’s listenability.
The songs wander from the Archie Fisher-esque take on Polly On The Shore, through to the quite pretty-but-if-you-listen-to-the-lyrics you realise that this is actually quite an odd story of Willie O’Winsbury (and a reprise by way of The Wickerman’s Procession as if played by a New Orleans marching band), through to the ghostly indeed The Lover’s Ghost (featuring vocals by former Mellow Candle member Alison O’Donnell) and the album also draws on the talents of amongst others Nancy Wallace and then to…
Well then to Cruel Mother which is probably one of the most brutal, disturbing songs I’ve ever heard. I won’t go into too many details but I find this song physically hard to listen to. Not because it is musically disonnant, it’s actually wrapped up ina rather lovely musical package but because the story is so unsettling.
The album end with the line from that song “‘Tis we for heaven and you for hell” and as Steven Collins says in the sleeve notes, what could come after that. In the context of this song/album, it’s true as it’s such a devastating line.
The band were formed by Steven Collins, drawing it’s name from Alan Garner’s The Owl Service novel…
According to an interview with him in Jeanette Leech’s Seasons They Change (her book on the story of acid and psychedelic folk) originally The Owl Service didn’t physically exist as a band but was more created by him as an imagined idea for his ideal folk band, one which drew it’s influences from a certain section of 1960s and 1970s British film and television and the sound of the English folk revival. Apparently people became interested in this at the start imaginary band (though they didn’t know of it’s insubstantialness) and began asking when they would be putting their songs out into the world… and from that the band became a real project… which I quite like as a way of something starting.
Also, I think I’m drawn to the album and indeed the work that Steven Collins makes/collaborates on because there is a sense of creating a world and an accompanying hands-on small scale cottage industry that supports and sends the music etc out into the wider world. Just getting on with it, from gig only CD-Rs via subscription 7″s to a limited edition package that contained every Owl Service song up to that point on one disc (see below and something I may return to later).
“She wants to be flowers but you make her owls. You must not complain then if she goes hunting.” What a quote (from Alan Garner’s The Owl Service). “I am the wolf in every mind” indeed.
Well worth a look-see-hear indeed.
Anyway, here are a few pathways of interest:
Steven Collins current activities via Stone Tape Recordings.
Dom Coopers work and influences here.
Nancy Wallace here.
Alison O’Donnell here.
Jeanette Leach Seasons They Change here.continue reading
Trails and Influences: Recent Explorations. Case #3/52.
Field Trip Report: Case #1a, subsection Metropolitan Incursions.
Well, although A Year In The Country is set in and around a personal vision of rurality, occasionally needs must and I’m drawn to venture forth into the Big City.
Now here was quite a treat; I was drawn to this in part by the mention of the darker side of fairy tales* and folklore when looking it up in the electronic ether. And also maybe in part because I think for myself part of creating work is the studying, collecting and curating of work that inspires and influences me… hence Trails & Influences.
The exhibition didn’t disappoint. It does indeed draw from the darker side of fairy tales and folklore, also taking in outsider art and even a dash of fashion photography.
Well there are a couple of photographs by Deborah Turbeville, who for quite a while I’ve found interesting as I think she represents one of the times that fashion photography wanders off into other areas and becomes closer to art. Her work often feels ghostly, from some other ethereal world and there is a lovely aged texture to many of her photographs. Not dissimilar in a way to photographer Sarah Moon and I think both of those ladies have influenced me one way or another over the years and I can see traces and vestiges of both in my own work. Here is one of Ms Turbeville’s images from the exhibition…
Below is a photograph of some of the interior pages to her Past Imperfect book from when I (briefly) owned it. Something of a masterclass in book design…
Kay Nielsen’s illustration of The Brothers Grimm Hansel & Gretel (on the right)… which to my eye looked like the cover to a semi-lost French acid folk record from the 1970s. Why do I say that? Well, it made me stop and think of Emmanuelle Parrenin’s 1977 Maison Rose album (a pathway you may want to wander down).
I particularly liked Alison Goldfrapps collection of personal objects; generally tiny ornaments, bears in a variety of poses, figurines in matchboxes and the like…
Also, there was a pleasant lack of ego present in the collection… it didn’t feel like “I am a STAR, look at me and my things”, more a gentle wandering around somebody’s personal and creative psyche.
If you should go-see then you can also discover the temptations of The Wickerman, Simon Periton’s Owl Doily for Philip Otto Runge and his owl-ish shopping bag mask, Anna Fox’s nature-glam-noir Country Girls, Lotte Reiniger’s cutout animation Hansel & Gretel and the “well, one really must questions the gent’s sanity but they’re rather impressive at the same time” outsider art of Henry Darger.
All good food for thought on my voyage through A Year In The Country…
I think the one disappointing thing was the lack of a book to accompany the exhibition as it would make a sumptious momento and would bring together Ms Goldfrapp’s aesthetic to cut out and keep as it were.
Ah well, I shall have to tide myself over with my collection of fliers/posters featuring the artwork from Goldfrapp’s first single Lovely Head (see top of this post); there’s something of a softspot for multiple sizes of similar things here at A Year In The Country.
Alison Goldfrap – Performer As Curator can be found at The Lowry in Manchester
Emmanuelle Parrenin’s Maison Rose album at Light In The Attic Recordscontinue reading
*Mind you, if you stop and think about fairy tales in general as I did during visiting this exhibtion, they are at the least quite odd and dark. Princess trapped in a tower with the only way of enabling her lover to visit her being if she drops her extraordinarily long hair? Princess falling asleep for a hundred years after eating a poisoned apple? Children intended as lunch by a witch in the woods? Etc. Hmmm…
Artifact #4/52: Variations On A Meme 12 x archival Giclée card set.
Limited edition of 12 sets.
Each set is held in a hand made/rough textured envelope.
Each envelope is hand stamped and signed/numbered.
Cards printed using archival Giclée pigment inks.
Each card is hand signed and numbered on the reverse (cards are otherwise blank/unprinted on the reverse).
Card size: A6; 14.8 x 10.5 cm / 5.8 x 4.1 inches (includes 5 mm / 0.2 inch border).
Printed on gloss 280gsm fade resistant paper.
I came to A Dream Of Wessex via a trail of cultural breadcrumbs dropped by Rob Young in his book Electric Eden (it’s featured towards the end of the book and connected to his visiting of a Ghost Box event which he describes as subterranean and an “exercise in consensual hallucination”… the connection between it and the book shall hopefully become clearer as you read down the page).
It’s curiously hauntological book in many ways (alithough it was written before the term had been created). Here’s a (slightly edited and reworked) collage of lines from the book:
“Deep inside her, a spectral memory flared like a match-flame in a darkened cellar
and a spectral version of herself recoiled in horror…
Time was deposited like layers of sedimentary rock and it could
be excavated with their imagination…
It was not a form of travel through time but a controlled, conscious extrapolation,
visualized and given shape by projection equipment…
Much has been heard about the ‘time-travelling’ ability the participants
developed when their minds were electronically pooled…
The tide was going out, and for a moment Harkman had an hallucinatory image of some bottomless drain far out at sea, into which the water was emptying, drawing back
from the shore and leaving the bay sodden and bare,
the muddy remains of the twentieth century scattered like shipwrecks across the land…
His memories before that date were his hold on reality: so long as they extended before then he knew that his identity was safe…
(It) had become an unconscious refuge for all the paticipants…
It was as if she had not been there, that she did not exist except as some palpable extension of his own imagination, which, like a childhood ghoul, had substance only as long as he concentrated on it…
They were all of the twentieth century.“
“The muddy remains of the twentieth century scattered like shipwrecks across the land” and “They were all of the twentieth century“? It sounds like part of a manifesto from or description of a release by the ultimate hauntological record label.
(A quick comment before I go on: I know that people often baulk at the labelling of their/others work but I think hauntological has come to represent a particular cultural aesthetic and spirit and it has become a good shorthand for that. I don’t really mind the labelling of genres as long as it doesn’t result in work becoming too narrow or slavish to a set idea and can make navigating record shops etc a little easier.)
To quite a degree part of the ending of the book reminded me of Rob Young’s fictional piece that was featured in the packaging for Belbury Polys Belbury Tales album. I wander if it was conscious or not?
The book is also curiously prescient of modern day escaping into a virtual digital/social media world: the plot involves a group of researchers in an underground (or subterranean) centre who join a group projection (a pre-runner of virtual reality) of a future Britain in order to try and learn about and provide solutions to modern day problems. (Spoiler siren noise) This virtual world eventually becomes more attractive than the real world, it’s participants not wishing to leave and it possibly becomes self-sufficient/creating.
(In this prescient sense of future behaviour and media, it reminds me of Nigel Kneale’s 1968 play Year Of The Sex Olympics, where a population is subdued by sexual performances on television and eventually harsh reality shows).
Essentially the book narrates a mass dream or hallucination, which thinking about it makes it’s inclusion in Rob Young’s book at the Ghost Box/hauntological juncture all the more fitting. As mentioned earlier he describes the Ghost Box event he attends as being “an experiment in consensual hallucinaton”… or indeed it could be connected to another of his concepts/phrases; that of imaginative time travel (used to describe voyagers in folk and other cultures when they interact with and attempt to visit or summon other times and ways of living through their work).
The phrase “Time was deposited like layers of sedimentary rock and it could be excavated with their imagination” also has particular hauntological connotations and in some ways reminds me of contemporary cultural behaviour wherein all of past culture is mined, reformed and given a different sheen/repurposing to it’s original intentions when it become part of new cultural artifacts (I could wander off down a path of discussing William Gibson’s comments about how culture has now become atemporal but maybe I shall leave that for another time… although I shall briefly mention that as a society we do not consider it odd that for the first time we can hear and see the voices and images of the dead through media recordings. Ghosts indeed).
And talking of ghosts…
This reforming can be seen in the work of the also aforementioned record label/reimagined world creators Ghost Box/designer Julian House who “conjure a world where TV station indents become occult messages and films for schools are exercises in mind control and collective hallucination” (from an ICA description of a Ghost Box event/film showing and a particularly good and concise summing up of the world they create and it’s intentions). In a way it’s a form of deliberate misremembering of the past, filtering it through your own personal vision, reimagining it in your own form, something which is mirrored in the researchers in Dreams of Wessex creating and shaping their own version of the future in their projection.
This is a book that I knew about and thought about for a long time before I bought and read it. It’s hardback cover in itself seemed to become quite a point of influence/reference for my A Year In The Country work and my attempt at an expression of an otherly countryside (hmmm, scratches beard in pseuds corner).
It’s actually quite a traditional painting of the countryside (by Paul Nash) but something about my knowledge of the plot of the book, it’s appearance in Electic Eden, my own state of mind and the paperback cover made it become something else… in part a reflection of my own version of reimagining.
PS I’m not normally bothered about such things but I quite like that my copy is signed by the author. Not sure why. Also that the dustjacket is clipped (do booksellers still do that today)… plus Christopher Priest looks like just how I think somebody who wrote left-of-centre intelligent science fiction in the 1970s should look. He looks a little like he should be writing science fiction that had somehow snuck into prime time TV but was a curiously off-kilter thing that lived somewhere between Blakes 7 and Sapphire and Steel but with more ooomph, oddness and cereberalness.
The condition could also be probably be described as “fine”. Again, I’m not too bothered about such things, being more of a reader than a collector but with this book it seems appropriate as it seems like quite a precious thing.
Ghost Box At The ICA via The Belbury Parish Magazine.
Christopher Priest’s site.continue reading
Although part of the aim of A Year In The Country is to look at, work with and hopefully create a new take on nature/landscape photography (one which will hopefully make sense to my own and maybe other’s subcultural sensibility), I have looked at suprisingly little of the work of other landscape/nature photographers.
This has been reasonably deliberate: quite possibly I didn’t want to be influenced by what had gone before in this field and I have had a fairly extreme, almost allergic urge to look away from and put down books that contain the work of other such photographers*.
An exception to this was Paul Hill’s White Peak Dark Peak, published by Cornerhouse Publications in 1990 (and I expect photography publisher Dewi Lewis who later had his own imprint had a hand or two in it).
In the very early days of A Year In The Country gestating in the old brainbox I travelled to another city’s library in part largely to look at this book (mirroring how the youthful me used to travel to record shops when hunting down records – something I’ve referred to before I think). I was coming towards the end of one of the stages of a very people orientated photography project and wasn’t sure if non-people orientated photgraphic work could have the same resonance and connection for myself and others.
But when I looked at this book some part of my brain recognised that nature and landscape photography could do something interesting and (slowly, steadily) I was off…
The book itself has been described as a visual odyssey across a very particular part of the English landscape and in parts has a quite dark/unsettling edge in the way it documents the passing of time and nature’s processes (I haven’t included any of those more darkly hued photographs here for reasons which I may discuss later).
It’s been out of print for a fair while now and fetches probably £30-60 but it may well be worth the investment.
Dark Peak White Peak at Eleven Fine Art
Paul Hill’s site.
Well, what can I say? The Stone Tape. It was somewhat inevitable that it would be here.
I suspect that if you’re viewing this page then you already know about the film/program but if not here’s a four sentence precis (slight spoiler may follow):
A 1972 TV film/program written by Nigel Kneale which features a group of British scientists holed up in a country house/mansion while they attempt to create a new recording technique (and presciently to take on the Japanese at such things). They discover a possible form of recording which exists within the substance of the house and attempt to study, initiate and capture (?) it. It’s an unsettling number which lodges itself in your mind and is a fine example of television showing a somewhat intelligent and questioning side. Slightly curiously for such things it features future cake supremo Jane Asher.
First watched by my good self on a rather fuzzy digital copy, which I think actually quite suited the nature of the film (program) and seemed to heighten the cheap off-colour tape recording of the original.
I took photographs for A Year In The Country for a year. At the end of that year I returned to the small village where I had lived as a child and had found out about the possible end of the world via two brown bakelite boxes (see About for more information on such things) alongside first discovering apocalyptic/dystopian/post-disaster fiction and fact via the Doctor Who Weekly comic, odd speculative science fiction TV programs aimed at children that dealt with food shortages and so on…
…curiously, on that day The Stone Tape was showing at the pictures in a city that I could easily visit on my return journey. It wasn’t planned that that should happen but it’s funny how life sometimes tells and sends you things.
So I sat in the darkness with my fellow travellers and had my own Cathode Ray Seance courtesy of flickering celluloid.
Really I think I should own The Stone Tape on tape. That’s the first time I became aware of it’s existence; I saw it on VHS video cassette in an educational institution library; I never watched that copy but it would consistently jump out at me from the shelves for some reason. Having watched it, I have an inkling why.
It is possible that one day when the new(ish) digital technology of laser read discs will be the old technology they will become the things that people hold dearly to their hearts and may have gained a layer or two of nostalgia and preciousness to their present and future owners: they may well become their own haunted media and to a degree visually this post/page is a reference and nod to that (all the images are from the original BFI DVD release of The Stone Tape).