Just Met…A Summer Exhibition with David Hayward, Janet James and Mark Mawer

An event to look forward to in July. ‘Just Met…’ A Summer Exhibition at Rendcomb Manor with David Hayward, Janet James and Mark Mawer.

David Hayward: ‘The images in this exhibition reflect an interest in the delineations of shorelines – of air, water and land and of weather, geology and the detritus of tidelines.‘ http://www.david-hayward.com/

Janet James: ‘Sunlight on lakes and fjords, reflections, the icy lochs and the countryside that surrounds me are my inspiration.‘ http://www.janetjames.co.uk/

Mark Mawer: ‘No doubt it is hard to believe, but we have to believe many things we never saw.‘ Allusive inspiration from Twenty Years A-Growing by Maurice O’Sullivan. (markveremawer@hotmail.com)

The exhibition will be open 7th July – 9th July 2017.

Friday 7th July 2017 – Opening Evening 6pm-9.30pm
Saturday 8th July 2017 – 10am – 8pm
Sunday 9th July 2017 – 10am – 4pm

Rendcomb Manor, Cheltenham Road, North Cerney, Cirencester, GL7 7ER

Inquiries to Joan Davies at joan.sargent@virgin.net or 01452 812399

A donation from this exhibition will go to The Camphill Village Trust.

 

Toxic Petals

photo: @John Stadnicki

People travel towards the water.

Believers and non-believers, abandoned,

wet books with pages turning themselves,

in the hot breeze.

 

In times of peace, the bread chooses wisely.

It chooses us.

To hear the summer from miles away – a sudden blast.

 

Toxic petals float in the air and

drop vertical shades of colour

on busy roads, on silenced barracks.

 

We all are the collective eyewitness,

the sleep-deprived well;

knowing litter pickers, mending

the gaps in this violent history.

 

 

A poem for ‘Europa‘ by Andrew Heath https://www.amazon.co.uk/Europa-Andrew-Heath/dp/B01LYHL716 

For further information on Andrew Heath’s music, please click here: https://andrewheath.bandcamp.com/

A Kind of World

If we want the world to move forward,

we must hold hands. Documenting the pain and the joy,

on the same page,

with water, with fire, with ashes

not with ink.

 

Freedom means nothing when the healthy and the sick

eat at separate tables.

Even the trees sit together. They know that life is actually simple.

But once people renounced their entitlement,

it will take more than a revolution

to reclaim such a right.

 

For too long we took the wrong turn.

 

What kind of world is this if

the madman tells us that

we should be ashamed of ourselves?

 

Photo: @Joss Beeley

Plastic

The local MP came to visit today.

He played with his tie, in the half-empty boiling hot working class room.

Nobody offered him water.

He looked outside at the summery breeze and chewed his nails for an hour or so.

I tried to think of a question.

But all of them were already answered.

He paused and smiled at the camera.

I had a name-tag around my neck.

He had nothing.

I sat on a tree-legged small plastic chair.

He sat on a piece of cake.

Photograph: @John Stadnicki

Thought

Just before midnight, in the unpreventable moment

my mother woke up to give birth to me,

I jumped out and spilt her blood on the floor.

 

My first angry poem, scream at the top of my lungs,

in the pale room.

 

A dormant city blessed the muddy wreath above the cradle

and

asked me to keep the noise down.

 

Mother went back to bed.

 

The following day I learnt to

write on white walls with red letters.

 

Video

A City Preview – London on Thursdays

Poetry reading: Maria Stadnicka reading the poem City from the collection Imperfect published by Yew Tree Press, 2017. Poem published in International Times, January 2017.

Music: Katie McCue

Video footage: World War One Archive