Constellation London

Even the methodically moving moon takes on a deceptive speed

As seen from the small windows of this metal and plastic conveyance. 

As its crisp flashing harasses the dark lakes below, the benevolent moonlight

Competes with earthy sodium glow and wins in its startling blinding whiteness. 

Moonlit clouds quickly obscure the city and in cruel stargazing reversal

Eyes search the ground below for familiar constellations of motorway. 

In this topsy-turvey corruption of the heavens, glowing grey gaps appear 

Forming a jigsaw of the universe below, Becoming more complete as we climb. 

Normality returns. Moon recovers its extreme speed, needing no illusion

To impress our flight's feeble flash. Indiscernible against the street stars. 

But for that split second between land and cloud, our disinterested 

Satellight overshadowed our city's artificial Big Bang of travelling light. 

Dark and terrible: Beyond Caravaggio

Many high profile reviews of Beyond Caravaggio have criticised it because it only contains six works by the master himself. However as the exhibition title makes perfectly plain, it is looking beyond Caravaggio. The stress is clearly on the word 'beyond'. It aims to examine his legacy, critique his followers, and put him into a wider context. Given his mastery over story telling, he deserves to have his own place in the art history story, as the quality of those incredible six pieces demonstrate. 

Waiting with Magda Mozarka

Waiting. We sit on the island content to wait. Waiting weeks for the moon to be in the right quarter so we can fish. Waiting months for the fruits to ripen so we can start the harvest. Waiting hours for the heat to pass so we can work. Waiting for the time we can leave this island for provisions...the inevitable slow but steady natural clockwork marking time. An hour hand of ferries offering a smaller human scale to the wait. Just waiting. When waiting is part of a culture, patience and acceptance almost to the point of madness is inevitable.

The Boat Road

How do you view the world when you're five years old? How much of that youthful joie de vivre do you - and can you - retain as you hit middle age? Having rarely spent so much time with a young gentleman it's been an interesting couple of weeks, and in some crazy irresponsible ways, it seems I have more in common with my young nephew than my younger brother.

 

This is not meant as any kind of criticism of my brother. Indeed I adore him and he is an inspiration to me; he's a parent, a carer, a survivor of a very different and difficult upbringing in comparison to mine. Those six years between us might as well as be sixty. But as my exhausted adult friend and family nodded off on the final stretch of their journey, the inevitable result of an early flight, me and my nephew bonded on the ferry ride back to mine.