London's winter grimness plows on, giving previous memories of Berlin grey brutality a run for their money. Somehow the sky here in Hackney seems lower, and the promise of snow forever restrained, before inevitable acquiescence into grey drizzle.
Meanwhile, I've embraced the (very) latent Britishness encoded in within, and taken a trip to Margate yesterday, to attend an exhibition at the Turner Contemporary on the work of T.S Eliot - more specifically, his epic poem "The Wasteland".
I can contend that it remains, indeed, as existentially bleak as ever - and find genuine inter-textural resonance (intentional or otherwise) with the work of Burial.
My own work feels dwarfed and clumsy in the light of both these rather different giants, but as part of an ongoing self-directed series of audio-visual sketches, I put together this short video (response?), based on heavily processed macro shots of......some potplants in my flat. The audio was written at our local cafe, cut and pasted from field recordings of me playing piano before teaching my weekly class at the Australian Institute of Music....and liberally spliced with found sound and audio detritus from YouTube.
In the spirit of intentional limitation, both the audio and video sketch are composite creations consisting of no more than 4 tracks each. Quick n dirty. Because "April is the cruelest month"....and its still only early February...