Museum and shows 2013

The Museum.“According to the Grand Encyclopedie, the first museum in the modern sense of the word (that is to say the first public collection ) would seem to have been founded on July 27th 1793, in France, by the convention . The origin of the modern museum would thus be linked to the development of the guillotine. However, the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford , founded at the end of the 17th century, was already a public collection belonging to the University.
The development of museums has plainly surpassed even the most optimistic hopes of the founders. Not only does the totality of the world’s museums today represent a colossal accumulation of riches but, above all, the totality of visitors without doubt represents a colossal accumulation of riches but, above all, the totality of visitors without any doubt represents the most grandiose spectacle of a humanity freed from material cares and dedicated to contemplation……it is the contents that distinguish the museum from the private collection….the contents being formed by the visitors. The pictures are only dead surfaces and it is within the crowd that the play, the flashes, the shimmerings…. of light takes place”. Encyclopaedia Acephalica.

This blog is now officially a museum with a labyrinth of stair wells and rooms as it descends so it imitates an excavation , it spirals around its subject hermeneutically!

Shows at Cultivate ttps://www.facebook.com/cvsgallery

THE FALLEN APPLES II.

 

 

In Tottenham

You can hear

the gentle thud of the apples fall,

when they have ripened,

a wholly wondrous red.

 

Is this the colour

virgins dread?

 

And i remember how,

the sweet and sour sticky juices spent,

of black berry

and  wild cherry,

stained my cotton breast.

Like a linnet’s lot.

 

Full to brimming the nectar comes,

right for the suckling of.

But  i must tell you,

gather  not.

For all the little children know,

It’s much more fun,

To watch them rot.

And see the maggot fest begin,

All slimy things wiggle in.

Let stench and bile,

Pull rank and file.

Let  lava languish,

bot fly dwell,

fermented heaven,

drunken hell.

Let the carnivorous ride a crest of carnage,

And the lowly reside in their quest for help.

Watch the weavers of webs,

A vampire set,

The suckers of life,

There’s no need for regret.

Oh sweet...black droplets line the window sill,

There’s evidence of strife.

The spider’s unsuspecting kill,

Suspended..ended..life.

Wondrous committed murderers,

I salute your callous ways.

Here in the buggy world of beasts

Sublime, how all decays.

All set about death’s business,

that is their sodden lot,

They fester swarm and worship,

The decadence of rot.

 

And thud ....

another apple’s fallen,

I think,

I wondered why...

another young boy is stabbed.

Dying in the street.

Some mother’s baby bleed’n’

 And then spasmed  at my feet.

No one came to help him when

they kicked and crushed his head.

And no one came to help me when

I screamed

‘i think he’s dead’ .

R.I.P.

Rot in peace.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 4.

Inside the House of Hornets sat Applebee. The custodian of the affairs within was perplexed, for it was time to document the where – with – alls - within...the words eluded him.

 

Applebee waited watching at the window, wearing a hat of contemplation in the gleeful hope that a beginning and an end would very soon arrive. Their inimitable arrival would bring the  long awaited climax of closure for which Applebee yearned. Up until now Applebee had found the whole affair  to be an ineffable experience which had come to cause even deeper degrees of inertia than had ever been experienced before. No doubt it was that infallible fear of failure that was the cause for this consternation, though not the cause for not having shifted a single syllable of sense these last few years.

 

Applebee had the task of recording all the goings on to which Applebee was witness as the gatekeeper at the House of Hornets. Applebee watched over the surreptitiously suspicious and the ordinary and droll, the soul purpose of this surveillance was to log and ledger all the details in insightful words of wisdom. It was Applebees job to guide the souls lost within the House of Hornets, with words of wisdom, so that they may come to know the elusive secret that might save them and bring them treasures far greater than anything imaginable. The wondrous words, when finally found, would not only save but also inspire a generation with a cult like veneration. This veneration would be inspired by Kafkaesque and Sartrian  observations fixed eloquently in lacy lines of prose.

 

Applebee pictured these prose skipping off the tongues of the elite and plebs alike, leaving the essence of the experience having  infused them all with adjustable polar vision and enlightened expectations. But Applebee was in a state of suspended animation, unable to fix into words with objective rationality the world to which Applebee was witness. Applebee understood so much about the human condition now, yet the more which became known only seemed to serve the revelation that the tree of human knowledge was riddled with rhizomes not roots, that there was even more which remained unknown and buried deep beneath and beyond the blinkered realms of reasoning, Applebee was insightful enough to know that most people know absolutely nothing whilst blindly believing they know absolutely all, especially people who read The Sun.

 

 

Applebee had been custodian, as I formally mentioned, at the House of Hornets presiding over all within and sometimes those without. Applebee had enjoyed lingering over the lives of the dwellers in their dwellings and though the walls of these dwellings were papery thin and susceptible to puncture, the inhabitants knew absolutely nothing of each other, well nothing concrete as such. As soon as Applebee could put into words mustered with all the masterful magic of a maestro the events which had been witnessed then Applebee’s job would be done. The words would reveal the secret and the spell would be undone.

 

Applebee was both sage and scribe, oracle and fool. Applebee  was essential, the secret  ingredient in the unfolding or not of each of the occupiers lives so that there might be unity for the dwellers in the House of Hornets which would set them all free.

 

Applebee surveyed the script freshly scrawled across the sheet, latterly read by your curious self and formally preceding that which follows and  comes next. Not sure whether to or not to delete the wretched lot, Applebee decides to  continue with the task of trying to tell the tale.

 

I should interrupt at this point as I am powerful enough to do, being the creator of this world in which you now find your curious self, to interject with the voice of authority bestowed upon me by myself, to inform you and  your good self, that Applebee has made a thousand starts before this, not so dissimilar from the one now fixed in print, but has been constantly side tracked  and made many tangent escapades which have resulted in a great delay, I do not wish this delay to prevent progress any longer so I will allow Applebee to continue explaining the perils of this plight in the voice of the second person so as to preserve a certain degree of anonymity….and I for my part will send them to print as one of us must take an ineluctable decisive stance because quite frankly dear, I do not think Applebee is able to ever consider that only one beginning will do or that an end is ever reached.

 

 

 

 

 

Applebee’s pleasure in pleonasm.

 

Before Applebee could fix in words, all which needed to be fixed, it was necessary to find those elusive flighty fellows who up till now had evaded every effort made to pin them to a page. Applebee searched with fervent determination through the dictionaries of old and new and through the texts of literary geniuses, philosophers and visionaries for words which would give sublime satisfaction to the audience awaiting in the wings. Applebee’s initially search for words of wonder had turned into an obsessive pleasure in tautology and pleonasm, resulting in superfluous overuse of nonessential adverbs and adulterated alliteration. Applebee was constantly distracted by the pleasure to be found in writing utter nonsense because the sound of the new exciting words when laced in multi syllabic strings sent Applebee’s  senses soaring, and with little concern for whether or not an audience would get the gist Applebee, had persisted in writing gibberish rather than any effective prose.

 

Applebee waited watching at the window,

Applebee waited watching at the window, wearing a hat of contemplation in the gleeful hope that a beginning and an end would very soon arrive. Their inimitable arrival would bring the long awaited climax of closure for which Applebee yearned.

Applebee wished to tell a tale and though it was a fully formed whole, an object in the mind which could be viewed from a multiple of positions putting it into words to do it justice had proved an impossible task to date. Without a beginning or and end perhaps it was not even a tale. Applebee did not fret too much though and up till now had been content to collect words and lines and form them into pretty prose of perfunctory use to any other and only delightful in so far as is the act of ‘being’ in itself.

 

.

 

Applebee had not been worried that his guests were somewhat late, a temporary blip commonly described as a block or a case of blinkered vision; the inability to sometimes recognise the nose upon ones face. Beginning and end, each one portends the necessity of the other, each one capable of being  synonymous of the other, together forming the epitome of  tautology of itself. Beginning and end do not ever really exist in Applebee’s mind, there is no chronological order of events which solely lead to the next, life is a myriad of  relative perceptions each as valid as the next and to Applebee deciding on a relative perspective was just as difficult as finding words adequate enough to present that perspective with crystal clear clarity. This undoubtedly accounted for the predilection for pleonasm which had developed just of late, it was a distinct need to be understood without ending every sentence with the proverbial ‘do you know what I mean?’ kind of thing. Previously, that is to say before Applebee had realised the inherent joy to be found in weaving words, Applebee, not naturally predisposed to committing pretentious act of poetry, had been content to log all goings on as pictures in the mind. Pictures which were presided over by the bubble babies and only occasionally accompanied by the most colloquial of audio description, phrases sometimes spoken during the witnessing of an event and committed to memory by virtue of the effectiveness of the experience through which they were generated. Applebee was content to contemplate countless conundrums whilst lost in the labyrinths of non corporeal conscious time. Distracted and fascinated by the plethora of possibilities contained within the potential combinations of all the new words which had been collected, Applebee was content to linger thus and take time to  develop the convenient ability all humans have, of processing snippets of a convoluted reality into words which witter on.

 

 

Applebee finds pleasure in words and previous to that, Applebe found pleasure in looking. Applebee still finds pleasure in looking, it will a perfect moment when words and looking become symbiotic. Applebee can completely immerse and lose all notion of self when looking, and hopes that soon the labours of collecting all the beautiful words will prove to be the labours of providence. The two pleasures will merge and pictures will be embellished with an extravagant sense of nothingness. ……………………..

 

Applebee believes in the secret power of nothingness and even more so in lavishing days with copious layers of it. Applebee feels that there is more to nothing than meets the eye, being in a state of utter nothingness is like languishing in  tepid tranquil pools of poppy dew subtly sweetened with acacia honey

 

 

. Applebee enjoys appearing to do nothing, yet this may be as it appears on the surface to a more ignorant observer, but on the inside everything is happening ,not only does Applebee manage to make without little perceivable effort  450 heart beats happen by the  hour  but sixty percent of Applebee’s body is constantly renewing itself and every single month and on top of all that, breathing happens effortlessly even whilst sleeping. This happenings are perfunctory but being nothing is not  as easy as it sounds. The one immutable truth of which we can all be assured of is that despite diversions and tangents something will be revealed in Applebee’s texts. For some it will be a great revelation for others a sublime truth but for now we must be content to know it is a secret. It is the elusive truth. At this point Applebee is distracted and leaves the window seat knowing that neither a beginning or an end were going to show today. Not yet. So you must  bare with us a little longer and be prepared to dig a little deeper, perhaps your patience will be rewarded, I know that mine was once.