to move up and down
My wings, they are broken
Shot this time last year. I wish it was still there. I’d be over the fence and putting it to good use.
This parrot will feature in ‘District Nurse.’ I captured some beautiful footage of this magnificent bird in the Californian desert back in March. His name is Kiwi.
My teacup
Bought as part of a set for £9.99 in Silloth, April 2013. Just thought I’d mention it.
Book Burning (2013)
We had an intense and highly experimental day’s shooting on District Nurse this afternoon. Mr James rigged a camera backwards and we went nuts to a film from Bruce McClure at the Cube Cinema, Bristol.
Tawny Owl
I made you act with your last breath,
Approaching you as you lay by the window,
Mouth opening and closing silently,
The word of help,
(Soundless)
Escaping into summer’s afternoon.
Your eyes closed,
I whistled for you to open them,
A prod to the back with my toe,
And one eyelid rose revealing a large brown well,
Searching,
Then dropped,
The other blinded,
Shut by impact.
There was no blood,
Studying your body,
Those talons arched and still,
Those feathers,
That beak that cried,
Though shed no tear.
I made you act with your last breath,
The camera on you during death.
(I do hope the owl I found stunned today recovers. I await news from the farmer.)
Hard Mud
Production still from this weekend’s shooting of ‘District Nurse.’
The Woman And The Rock
She lay there up against that black rock,
A white sliver of flesh peeled,
Eyes of the party boring into her,
As silver wheels spun out of control,
And Roman candles,
Sent rainbows of burning phosphor,
In to the bosoms of stars.
‘District Nurse’ image board.
Gun Buggy
Sorting out some props in Cumbria for ‘District Nurse.’
Our ‘District Nurse’ gets to grips with who’s next. Louis hovers his boom by the plastic equine.
Visiting A Dead Friend
Hair matted,
Hide still sweat,
Breathless beyond sleep,
The motorway sound, the rush,
Envelopes grey April sky, distant sheep,
This heap,
No respect for the dead,
Engine life goes on.
Stalking her,
Half propped up on wild horns,
The Green Knight Voyeur,
Closes in through pockets of water,
And mud.
A crooked back, white with natural snow,
A line traced to the tip of her tail,
Foam round her nose,
Frothing,
Presses mother earth,
Hind quarters back wash,
Foam and blood,
That eye, grey,
Half shut looking down on hay,
As she did a calf,
The mouth silent.
The calls,
The moans of friends,
Wanting me to help, helpless.
The little ones come up to see,
What lies at the cusp of the hill,
Not like a human family,
Who would protect their young,
From this vision of death.
I turn my back,
They morn as only they know how,
The sniff, the tongue,
A sound to raise her to her hooves,
The grave realisation of what comes to us all.
The sun is out,
The birds have not yet seen her,
By night, fox will take root.
Storyboard for this weekend’s ‘District Nurse’ shoot.
(Rob James is far better at sketching than me…possibly.)
Sweet Chilli Sauce 4, Fri 12th April, Cavern Club, Bristol with Antoni Maiovvi, Bobbi Soccer, Richie Moment and Gram Par.
The Return (Los Angeles, March 2013)
