Use The Farce

I saw Yoda today in Trafalger Square. He looked taller than the last time I saw him-he must have been eating his greens.

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First Night Walk

Okay, so you thought you’d seen the last of me for a few days.

But, for the first time, I took my iPad away with me as my antique phone is playing up. So I decided to use it for a few photographs and the odd update. Just in case I should disappear off the map.

 

Canary Wharf: feeling small. A poor man’s Stonehenge. How far have we come from the Neolithic?

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In the midst of city life, there were some coots nesting in the water to the side of me, the calling chicks catching the attention of some cooing, slightly tipsy women. Alas, it was too dark for me to capture them. The chicks, I mean. The women continued to dance beneath neon lights.

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Above the monoliths. Looking down; looking up.

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In the distance: the Shard. I resisted its call.

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The DLR crosses the bridge. Driverless trains- would you feel safe?

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How many Jackdaw Andy’s can you cope with? Using my iPad that way it looks like I’m waving a hymn book about, threatening to break into song. And these unforgivable angles show just how much I’m beginning to thin on top. Damn wife; damn kids; damn time!

Did I leave anything out ? Maybe a smile?

 

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London Calling

I am off to London in the morning for three nights, arriving back on Monday evening.

For those of you who are familiar with the whole ‘journey’ theme of my book Heading North, the last time I was in our capital city I wrote three poems for possible inclusion in the book. I was going to publish two that didn’t make the final cut here in this post-but at this late hour I can’t find them!

One was still in early draft form, entitled London Lines, and the other was a completed poem that I didn’t think quite up to scratch (tellingly the title now escapes me).

So, until I do locate them, I will include here the only one of the three that made my collection. It was written in the very same hotel, in Canary Wharf, that I’m staying in this weekend. Maybe inspiration still lingers the corridors, eh? Perhaps my muse is still joyriding the elevators.

We shall see. In the meanwhile, have a great weekend people.

See you next week.

Canary Wharf, Morning

Sunrise over angled skies.
Reflected light on
glass and steel.

Still water shine 
and strengthening hum
of time-fixated 
suited drones,

speed induced and web infused.
See the parade 
of passive martyrs.

One day, maybe, 
just one day,
sit and watch the world go by.


©Andrew James Murray

A Year-Long Duel In Red: Frame By Frame

Street artist Mobstr recently shared a photo story that took place over the course of a year. The artist explained how it came about:
“I cycled past this wall on the way to work for years. I noticed that graffiti painted within the red area was ‘buffed’ with red paint. However, graffiti outside of the red area would be removed via pressure washing. This prompted the start of an experiment. Unlike other works, I was very uncertain as to what results it would yield.”

Below is what transpired over the course of a year. I’m not sure if it was the same council worker called to deal with the graffiti each time, but I sincerely hope it was, and it became personal. I think I may be missing the odd shot, but you will get the gist of the duel.

The battleground:

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The duel begins with ‘RED’

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Someone else adds graffiti

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Gone

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RED

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I’ve somehow missed a photo. Graffiti would have been gone. Then next, helpful instructions on how to deal with each line

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50% gone

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Polite reminder

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Gone. But someone adds to the other side.

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That goes. RED is back.

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Another artist attempts to make a connection

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Council worker is hard of heart

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RED back.

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Gone

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Outside the zone

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Gone

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Back to basics

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Can’t spray til the paint dries

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Another polite reminder

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Someone else joins in, and the ‘other side’ artist returns.

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The other side is overlooked. Perhaps now Council Worker is consumed wholly by his personal feud

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A perfectionist

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Pissed off Council Worker now means business

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Clear

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A continual loop

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Another joins in

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Council worker departs, gleefully rubbing his hands

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Final goodbyes

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Apocalyptic London

As fog blanketed parts of the country, this amazing photograph was tweeted by passenger Sarah Wells as she flew into London, showing the skyline of our engulfed capital.

“Flew into foggy London. Views are beautiful-this is the Shard and all the towers in the city.”

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Like in the pea-soupers of old, the swarming masses below are hidden in cloud and vulnerability.  Stephen King’s The Langoliers comes to mind.

Hopefully everybody was still there when the plane landed.

A Sea Of Red

Here are some striking images of the moat of the Tower Of London, filled with 888,246 ceramic poppies, each one representing a British life lost in the Great War.

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I like how they appear to flow down from the castle into a sea of blood.

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The name given to this art installation is ‘Blood Swept Lands And Seas Of Red.’

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In this centenary year of remembrance, I think it really is quite effective. Each individual poppy is to be sold to raise money for different charities.

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Sometimes, when numbers become, well, just numbers, we need a visual representation to help us appreciate the scale of things. Think of the size of the ocean created if the seas of blood from every, affected, scarred country should run and merge into one.