Blue

I close my eyes and yet still see

The shimmer of blue horizon

And gentle furl of quiet water

The endless shifting of light-shapes

Imprinted on the camera of my mind

Now light pierces from a closer sun

Looking up at endless blue void

Shapes of tiny island disappearing 

Whilst clouds loom to merge sea-sky 

Light imprinted on the camera of my mind

Imagine embracing that watery state

Recurring dreams of blue depths

Ghostly fingers glowing quietly

Skin melting in sea, silk-light on skin

Imprinted on the camera of my mind

I now see both the above and the deep

Impossible blue beauty suspended

Words float away evading my grasp

Always chasing illumination: eyes close

Light imprinted on the camera of my mind

Your Black Horizon

Art is supposed to be an all encompassing sensory experience. When I came across Olafur Eliasson's 'Model of a Timeless Garden' this year it overloaded the eyes whilat delighting the ears and fingers (yes I touched the installation!). By stripping the colour from a renaissance fountain, it became an elemental fantasy where water was trapped in time.

Art could not have been further from my mind when briefly stopping off on the Croatian island of Lopud. A contemporary black sign pointing off the main promenade inland caught my eye. It said Olafur Eliasson and David Adjaye 'Your black horizon'. Immediately I was taken back to his monochromatic fountains, my interest piqued.

Following the hot dusty path up to the art pavilion, potable water could only be imagined; cactus flowers coloured the ground, insects flooded the sky. Here was the timeless garden indeed. A modern wooden construction offered shelter and in we went. The space could be any London gallery, fresh painted wood creaked and black curtains ensured darkness within. An inclined walkway lead into a black square, icy cold room. A line of light at my eye level went uninterrupted all the way round, giving the illusion the room was circular. 

As the eyes adjusted, you lost yourself looking into the horizon and as time passed the colour changed with the rising and setting sun; from yellows into orange, red, turquoise and deep blue. The white in contrast then seemed to fill the space. The heat and light outside was forgotten, just the cool inner focus remained. 

This installation, like his other one, uses light to focus on the very small to illustrate the bigger picture. The fountains stopped time, whilst this one seemed to capture space. Incredibly, when you emerged from the darkness, blinking, the blue and green horizon seemed very small and claustrophobic. 

So to return to the idea of the immersive experience, there can no better place to see contemporary art than on a tiny sun drenched island. Firstly there is no competing white cube space; secondly this would be stand out piece in London. Finally, the extremes of heat, light, dryness affect your perception and reception of the art.  

From June 15-Sept 29 2013, Lopud, Dubrovnik 

Moon Colours

We didn't watch the sunset tonight

We ignored the lurid display of light

Instead we sat entranced by the moon

Casting shadows on the igneous rock

Silver dancing on the shifting blacks;

Fish ripples adding the diamonds

Quiet copper mirrored boats hover,

Shifting; lightly kissing the gentle swell 

Count the varied subtle moon colours, 

Each one richly echoes its brighter light

Turquoise is hematite; vegetation jet.

Reflecting back I gleam black and white. 

A Place Called Sunrise

A landmark birthday inevitably leads to introspection and reflection. To be in the geographically same place as last year enables an easier comparison of the mental healing processes. The daily routine should be a comparator but when it has more of the treadmill feeling about it, that's unhelpful and unhealthful. 

I suppose there is a sense of sunshine being conduicive to warming and lifting any sense of depression and lingering grief. However I think everyone knows it doesn't work like that. There are rocks in the soul which enable shade to reside; an impermeable, hopeless darkness. 

It's been either years or days since the death of my dad. Ten years ago on my thirtieth we were all together in the Italian sunshine, without care or thought for what would happen. It hurts deeply that he's not here for this turning decade. It's been a massive time of learning and not of the academic type.  I was once accused of coldness because of my career and university focus but that's just my way of coping. The more buried in study I am, the more I'm hurting.

As I say and write this in a village called 'Sunrise', this passage of time leads to musings and turning over of lifeless mind spaces. Sometimes it turns out sunshine is a cure and though I don't pretend that all is well all of the time, when I compare how I was last year, it is better. 

From where I'm sitting the only way I can describe it, is that the dark rock pools in my mind are slowly being refreshed with the aquamarine clarity of time. And I can live with that.