where art collides philosoperontap

May 31, 2009

A work of sculpture by Tom Davies and James Geary

Filed under: the art gallery — red @ 8:14 pm

apple

“How fair is a garden amid the toils and passions of existence?”

Benjamin Disraeli

Throughout history there have been countless examples of man flexing his technological muscle. Yet, despite all our progress we are still to become the planet’s dominant force. The fact, which the human race seems incapable of comprehending, is that man can never conquer nature, and it is this what we have tried to portray in our work.

The apple is a gift to man from nature and fruit is a core part of our existence. Without his five a day, man would suffer from not having a balanced diet. This said, it is typical of him to wantonly disregard it. When the nail is driven through the fruit it begins to decompose, typifying the destruction of ‘our’ natural world. The fruit becomes inedible and sustenance must be sought elsewhere. If left long enough, the apple will rot to the extent that it completely disappears. Though nailed to the board, the fact remains that it cannot remain there forever. Mankind will never pin down nature.

OR

We wanted to nail an apple to a bit of wood and see if it would win the House Arts and Craft competition at school.

The green wall of summer

Filed under: poems — Trefor Davies @ 6:06 am

The green wall of summer,

Birds in evening chorus in the park,

New growth ripples along the hedge,

The light remains,

Though sense says it should be dark.

 

Rays filter through the canopy,

A rose commends its lovely presence,

Its colour in delicate harmony,

Without the wall,

Pink beauty conferred with deep fragrance.

rose

greenwall

May 28, 2009

When was the last time you used a phonebox?

Filed under: poems — Trefor Davies @ 9:45 pm

When was the last time you used a phonebox?

Freedom is going out without
your mobile phone alone.

When was the last time you used a phonebox?

Only the strongest constitution
can take this liberation.

When was the last time you used a phonebox?

Blow a raspberry to the Blackberry,
real men don’t need email on the move.

When was the last time you used a phonebox?

The text message

Filed under: poems — Blues @ 3:13 pm

The phone goes ping, ping. Someone’s poking me.
Oooh, a text. Who can this be ?
A thought, a plan, or maybe just a wave, which
I save, because it has enriched
My day. Then I send back my reply, and try
To be witty, and clever, but mostly it’s meant
To return their compliment.

May 27, 2009

The Burton Road Strip Launch

Filed under: The Burton Road Strip — Tags: — Trefor Davies @ 9:03 pm

This is an advance notice of a local arts project being launched on Burton Road. It is entitled “The Burton Road Strip” and is centred around a series of poems and photographs published on this website on the subject of some of the shops, eateries and pubs on Burton Road.

The work is being displayed at the Gainsborough Festival on Saturday 6th June and is being showed at local studio No10 Burton Road the following weekend on Saturday 13th June.

The Lincoln event will be announced/covered on the Rod Whiting Breakfast Show on Radio Lincolnshire on Friday 12th June.

On Saturday the Studio at No10 Burton Road will be open from 1pm showing “The Burton Road Strip” together with other work by local writer and poet Tref. At 4pm on this day we are planning some readings together with a glass of wine which you are very welcome to attend.

May 25, 2009

What to do on a bank holiday Monday

Filed under: miscellany — Trefor Davies @ 9:25 am

A no pressure potterday,
None of this making hay,
That’s what you have to do,
On a bank holiday.

May 23, 2009

Nothing exists outside these four walls

Filed under: poems — Trefor Davies @ 9:57 pm

Nothing exists outside these four walls,
The light is reflected on the windows and
All is black beyond the glass.
My access to the external world
Is a mobile phone which is used
To send text messages,
And Facebook.
It is a virtual world.
I finish a bottle of red wine
And have nothing but my thoughts
And the tick of the clock on the kitchen wall.

The kitchen

Filed under: poems,the art gallery — Trefor Davies @ 9:39 pm

A sirloin steak, rare, 2 minutes on the first side and 1 minute on the second, coated in crushed black pepper.

A simple salad , lettuce, vine tomatoes and spring onions with olive oil and aged balsamic vinegar dressing.

Caramelised red onions and whole button mushrooms cooked in their own juices.

Salt, pepper and Dijon mustard.

Wolf Blass, Yellow Label, South Australia, Cabernet Sauvignon 2007.

Crusty white bread with butter.

Blackness outside.

Silence.

Thoughts at sundown

Filed under: miscellany — Trefor Davies @ 7:34 pm

Anne and Joe have gone to Grandad’s birthday dinner on the Wirral. Hannah is out babysitting. Tom has gone to a party and John is in bed early because he wants to nurture all his strength for a cricket match tomorrow. An unusual situation.

So I’m sitting here watching the silhouettes in the garden and listening to the birds call their last for the day. I have a bottle of red wine at the ready in the kitchen but it is as yet unopened. I’m waiting for the right moment. That moment when I feel ready to get the griddle out to cook the steak.

The occasional car is still heard on the road at the front of the house. I can’t understand this having spent all day ferrying children to and from their various activities. People need to chill out now and they can’t do this whilst driving.

It is still May but June is fast approaching and I do wonder what happened to spring? I’m sure I happily observed it as it was emerging but somehow the season seems to have rushed by.

Life is incredibly busy. So much so that I often have no idea what is happening the following week. I have to check the calendar on Sunday night to understand where I am going to be and what I will be doing over the subsequent few days.

Because life goes by so quickly the one thing I learnt long ago is the need to savour every minute of it. The children, Anne, friends, and to enjoy everything I do as much as I can. Including work.

Time to cook that steak…

May 19, 2009

The Northumberland, Kings Cross

Filed under: miscellany — Trefor Davies @ 8:53 pm

GUINNESS

Robbie’s funeral
Thurs 28th May 10AM
St Pancras Cemetary
High Rd East Finchley
All welcome
RIP

DVDs 4 for £10 – from a Chinaman in the pub

Happy Hour
Mon – Fri 5pm – 8pm
£2 pint or bottle

The men sit at the bar drinking or play pool. Women and children, if there are any, sit at home watching TV.

Pool knockout – every Wed, £2 entry, winner takes all.

The workers away from home have all gone back to their digs.

A foreign couple, he with a half pint and she with some clear liquid, sit watching the adverts having finished their conversation. They occasionally talk. Then they go home.

May 17, 2009

Random Symmetry

Filed under: poems — Trefor Davies @ 3:50 pm

I see a random symmetry
As the drops hit the puddle
And concentric circles grow
Until they collide and are consumed.
Cares vanish as the rings fade,
Geometric self-hypnosis,
Walking in the gentle rain.

Shell garage

Filed under: The Burton Road Strip — Tags: , — Trefor Davies @ 1:57 pm

Food on the go,
For people on the move.

Snap your fingers
To the rhythm of a
Pork pie and a pint of milk.

Hit on a coffee
For those wide awake moments.

Mars bars and Lucozade
For that morning after
Energy lift.

Body fuel by Shell.

photo by Andy Benn

photo by Andy Benn

May 16, 2009

Old Bakery Restaurant

Filed under: The Burton Road Strip — Tags: , — Trefor Davies @ 8:26 pm

If awards are your scene,
This is a must
For Mediterranean cuisine

If atmosphere is your thing
Come on in.

Family run fine dining
At its best
At your behest.
oldbakerysmall1

Coop

Filed under: The Burton Road Strip — Tags: , — Trefor Davies @ 8:19 pm

A visit to the coop,
Always pays dividends.

Double points,
On Fair Trade products.

photo by Andy Benn

photo by Andy Benn

Greenhouse

Filed under: The Burton Road Strip — Tags: , — Trefor Davies @ 8:15 pm

The ambience,
Suits ladies who lunch,
Take their time over brunch,
Who like their gossip hot,
And their coffee black.
greenhousesmall

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