Portobello Art Gallery and what's going on at the Westway Development Trust.

Portobello Art Gallery is a 'pop up'  underneath the Westway on Portobello Green (half way between Portobello Road and Ladbroke Grove). It is open until Sunday and although small contains some interesting portraits painted from photograph by Jon Cartwright . It is well worth a look if you are in the neighbourhood.

http://www.westway.org/trustnews/trustnews/11-05-23/Westway_Community_Festival_11th_-_19th_June_2011_Its_a_Celebration.aspx

Brick Heads,

Currently on show in the Tabernacle W11 gallery space.

Notting Hill Views.

Ladbroke Grove.

Portobello road 

The Cow. Westbourne Park Road.

Pigeon post.

this is a very early rough draft. Just notes really.


A song for last year's wife.

This spring

a pigeon scratched a rough nest

on the ledge outside the kitchen window

The ledge where you grew parsley and mint

and the scarlet geranium you nurtured from a cutting

taken on a drunken walk home

from outside the neighbours house.

The pots have gone

the herbs long dead

the geranium fell to the basement last winter

leaving space for the rough nest

in which a pigeon laid a solitary egg

It was not a good nest

I scolded the bird for such slapdash househusbandry

but we watched over that egg

as I fed her seeds and crumbs

and fretted with her.

On the third day

a jackdaw took the egg

there was nothing I nor the pigeon could do

a jackdaw took the egg

save make accusative stares

a jackdaw took the egg

I did not take the egg and I could not save the egg

she did not take the egg and could not save the egg.

but I think we equally cared for that egg

until we decided to blame each other for it's loss.

I have not seen the pigeon since and I have let the pigeon go

but the egg still haunts me.

Kittens in nature. This blog hurts.

I am well known for my lack of enthusiasm for anything remotely kittenish.

The following arrived via twitter from Philippa Perry:

Kittens in nature
On a spring day
Come through on twitter
and ruin my day.

He finds a reason
As soon as he can
To hate little kitty
Although he's aman.

kitty must bear
The brunt of his blame
All of his misery
And much of his shame.

Thank you Philippa.

Pepe Francis MBE.

Congratulations to Pepe on the award of his gong for services to Steelpan music. More HERE

Bookslam. Jon Ronson, Hannah Peel and Francesca Beard.

I invariably enjoy Bookslam. It is refreshingly unpretentious and laid back. Last night was no exception. I was interested to hear Jon Ronson on his new book on how to spot a psychopath and pleased to be both amused and enlightened, I know he was selling a book but it didn't feel like he was selling a book. He looked like he was enjoying himself too. the event included a 'signer', the first time I have seen this at the Tabernacle. He added an extra dimension to the narrative and was a welcome addition to the proceedings, adding an element of theatre. the Psychopath Test is out now published by Picador.

Francesca Beard writes the kind of narrative poetry I like and is very comfortable to listen to. good fun too.

Hannah Peel was an absolute delight, her intelligent narrative songs delivered cookily (this is a compliment) and happily accompanied by a guitarist and intriguingly mask wearing keyboard/percussionist. I was enchanted by the music box she played for a couple of songs, she later informed me that she makes the paper reels herself with a hole puncher. I liked Hannah Peel a lot.

hannah's debut album 'the Broken Wave' is out now.

Good fun.

A passion play at the Tabernacle W11.

Tuesday evenings meeting at the Tabernacle was a roaring success. Turnout was impressive, no doubt helped by the 'Reclaim the Tabernacle' flyers doing the rounds prior to the meeting. It was certainly passionate but at the same time constructive.

After an introduction from Shabaka (Carnival Village) a lively Q&A took place with a few grudges aired as well as some valid concerns from the community expressed, resulting in various ongoing discussions as to the use of the space. After a difficult couple of years the Tabernacle, under the Aegis of Shabaka, Chris Scholey and his team, now has the opportunity to move on to become an all inclusive centre for the community.

Gossip on Portobello road. Pizza East and The Tabernacle.

It is a shame when yet another local pub closes down to be reincarnated as a trendy 'destination'. this has happened recently to the Fat Badger which once occupied the corner of Portobello and Goldbourne. It is now called Pizza East Portobello.

I had heard that the place was heaving the minute it opened. It is, but not necessarily for normal reasons. Pizza East is part of the Soho House chain. The Electric in Portobello Road is also part of this chain. when Pizza East opened the Electric closed for major refurbishment and memberships were transferred to Pizza East up the road.

We can safely assume that the majority of people using the new gaff at the moment will transfer their attention back to the Electric when it re-opens. I'll review Pizza East then.

The TABERNACLE in Powis square is holding a public meeting on Tuesday evening at 7.00 pm. The meeting is intended to set out to the local community the plans and aims for the Tabernacle in the years ahead.

There is a flyer going around demanding that the place be reclaimed for the community and calling for the meeting to be used as a rally. The flyer is anonymous. who is behind it? Is this another case of a small part of the community taking it upon itself to 'speak' for the community as a whole. I shall be interested to see if the 'Reclaim the Tabernacle' group is a fair representation of the Spanish, Portuguese, Somalian, Irish, Sri Lankan  etc etc members of the community. I have a feeling it will not be.

I'll report back on the meeting with an update.

After the poets convention.

Hey Susie remember me?

May I have my jacket back

You borrowed it last night 

While sharing a cigarette outside

With the tall Hungarian poet.

I didn't see you again.

Had he been a better poet

He would have wrapped warm words about you.

Removing the need

For you to borrow my jacket

Or for me to write these words.

Gil Scott Heron. 1949 - 2011. He died too soon.

Last night I met a young poet thirty years my junior. She and I had seemingly nothing in common save poetry yet we found one common reference point: Gil Scott Heron.

Maybe for her it was about his skin colour or his role as, if not father of 'rap' then certainly the man who planted the seed that gave us Hip Hop. He gave us something of a meeting place.

If Gil Scott Heron had not existed I would not be doing the work I do now. Two poets have inspired me: One, Brian Patten, gently spoken English romantic, urged me to write. Gil on the other hand urged me to experience life, get out there, taste it all, feel the bad as well as the good, the rough and the smooth, holler at injustice and then bitch about it and then write.  Gil didn't have an easy life, troubles came his way and troubles inspired and informed much of his work. troubles were his muses. Thanks to Gil I now experiment with involving musicians in my poetry, I experiment with sounds. His later poem: 'where has the night gone' is the saddest thing I know and 'I'm new here' reliably assured me that , no matter how far I'd gone, I could always turn around.

He lived long enough to see the revolution televised and the pointlessness of 'Whitey on the moon'. He live long enough to see a black president. He lived long enough to see a resurgence of interest in his work and his words.

But he didn't live long enough.

Gil, youv'e gone too far this time. Too far to turn around.

I deleted your name out of pure joy.

I deleted your name out of pure joy

I wrote it on my school books for practice
I created new typefaces to suit
I wrote it on album covers to read as we hippliy listened
I wrote it in amateurish embroidery
on my first denim jacket
when a hells angels motto would have easily sufficed
I wrote it in snow
In weedkiller
In paint stripper
I wrote it in haste
and at leisure and in stables and with the lawn mower

with my fiinger on the dust of white vans

I wrote it in imaginary sky writing
looped the loop at the end of the 'L'
I tattooed my dreams
And wrote 24 hour one word lyrics
in shy places.

I wrote it.

Then I deleted your name out of pure joy

When you noticed.

Tony Butcher Photography at the Tabernacle.

I reviewed an exhibition of Tony's photographs at the Tabernacle some months ago. At that time his show focussed on the body; obviously a subject he enjoys.

Currently on show in the Tabernacle gallery is a much broader demonstration of Tony's eye and Tony's art. Street art, Provence, Californian excess, the body and even babies in a box come under his scrutiny and his lens.There are 'plays' with focus that scream impressionism and there are monochrome studies to die for.  A triptych of Brighton skylines is mesmeric in it's power; two horizons teasing you with the absence of a third. 

If I had the money two of Tony's images would be hanging on my wall now.

Do make an effort to see this.