Cosmos at the RWA

The new group show at the RWA opened last weekend to explore the intersection between art and science in relation to all things spacey. There were some lovely pieces and, of course, some that didn't float my spacecraft. That is to be expected. 

I admired the slice of the moon's in glittering silver and the speculative planetary surfaces in textured paper. 

It was good to be reminded in a series of photographs about the Jaipur Observatory, which I visited almost forty years ago. And I was intrigued, as always, by Cornelia Parker's meteorite burnt maps, as much as looking at a large chunk of said rock.

Less exciting were renderings of Nasa photographs, whereas the closely observed 19th C pastel of the moon from the Royal Astronomical Society was an exemplar of both scientific measurement and artistry. 

Prints of nebulas too held my gaze for a long while. And, being a sucker for ceramics, I really wanted to tuck one the moon jars under my arm.

It's on for several months, so don't be phased, but do pop along. 

Helios redux

Swimming under the sun. 

It was too tempting to miss;  a special moment getting up close and under the heat of Luke Jerram's Helios, currently suspended over the Jubilee Pool in Knowle.

 Installed as a fund raiser for the desperately needed new roof, late night swimming sessions for limited numbers of the curious are a fantastic experience. 

It was on the one hand serene when folk were quiet enough to enable the accompanying music to be heard, and on the other an exuberance of joy. 

I enjoyed my half hour greatly, but could have done without the gale blowing on the hilltop as we made our way home at midnight. 

Christmas in France

Of course, the day we decide to do the Christmas food shopping it's pouring with rain. The water table needs topping up here in the Aude valley if the vines are to survive next summer, which if anything like this last year will be very hot and very dry. Vignerons around and about have lost many a vine to climate change in recent years, this and over-production for a lessening demand, especially from the young, does not bode well for one of the main parts of the rural French economy. 

But onwards, it's Noel and time to look for the light and eat far too much rich food. We've bought all kinds of things that we never normally consume like langoustines, oysters, foie gras and a capon, and have tired and failed to buy things we'd rather like, especially fresh cranberries. Oh well, when in the Languedoc...

Seasons Greetings all and more in the New Year, when I will be doing a huge number of readings all over the UK to promote my new book. Prepare to be thoroughly fed up with me until you give in and buy a copy. Details of where and when are on the Sublime Lungs page of this website. Do check back to see if I'm going to be near you as gigs are being added all the time.

What's in a Name

For years people have been asking me where the name for this website comes from, why the tree snake and so on. Here's the rationale:

Boomslang is indeed a rather deadly African snake that likes to hang out in trees - boom is the Dutch/Afrikaans for tree and slang for snake, but in English boom and slang seemed to me to be rather appropriate words for poetry, especially words read out loud and words played with. So there you have it, nothing too mysterious and the name does enable me to say something rather cheesy about poetry with a bite!

Here's an ancient preserved Boomslang from the museum in Swakopmund, Namibia for your delectation.

Luke Jerram - Helios

Just opened in Bristol Cathedral, the monumental Helios by Luke Jerram is a mesmerising work, with a tiny earth nearby to give you a sense of the scale of the sun.

 It's on for the whole of October and is well worth ducking indoors for if you are passing, or even if you have to take a special trip, as the Cathedral itself, and it's commendable and important work on the slave trade counter-narrative is time well spent. Sit and wonder. You'll be glad you did.

Forgotten Bristol - Balloons

Every second weekend in August is the extravaganza that is the balloon festival at Ashton Court. 

Not being one to willingly join a crowd, I prefer to watch the mass ascents from the calm of a relatively secret spot in Clifton. No, I'm not telling you where to go to get a wide uninterrupted view of the balloons traversing the city, assuming, of course, that the not too fierce wind is coming from the right direction, i.e. the west.  Suffice to say it's not the Observatory or anywhere near the Suspension bridge. Buy me a coffee and I might, just might, divulge this useful piece of local knowledge.

This year while the dawn ascents did take place, two of the three evening ones did not as it was just too windy. I prefer the comfort of my bed, so the one and only chance this year was on Sunday evening. A perfectly warm and balmy one. The fifty balloons lifting off and drifting across Bristol were a wonder to behold. One I didn't realise I'd been missing.

Forgotten Bristol - The Sheep Grazing

To remind everyone that The Downs are available to domesticated animals, a sheep grazing event is held every several years. I must say I had in mind a goodly-sized flock of sheep ranging over a large part of The Downs. What it actually turned out to be were four ewes and four lambs in a small pen tucked under the trees. Not quite the assertion of Commons rights I was looking for, but I took consolation from the fact that they were Welsh Blacks and rather gorgeous looking beasts, especially their black lambs.

I hope the school children who were there at the same time as me were not disappointed. There were distractions in the form of a spinning wheel and a spinner demonstrating wool carding, a fleece to run one's fingers through - lanolin is great hand cream - and the Avon wildlife group to explain the special flora of the Downs and Gorge. 

It was worth attending to see one of those oddities of the British countryside that finds it's way into the middle of the city, but I doubt I'll be visiting again.