Aye Aye! Dave & I have taken to playing this game in the dark, when it’s impossible to see anything but the familiar made strange or images conjured from mutual memory. In his snoring absence I’ll play it with you. W. Not window. Wan…no, wait a minute, W.T. Wandering…Ah! Walthamstow. Yes! Which particular Walthamstow thing? Walthamstow Thing? No. Track? No. Tapestry. Yes, you win. And so do I because today I’ll endeavour to track down the artwork on the Trail inspired by Mr Perry’s opus as well as revisiting the Bees Knees quilts which I saw but briefly on Sunday when we held competing badge making bees in the environs of LLoyd Park. Their stitching was enjoyably quirky, with a great deal of love, interesting cultural references & personal expression put into it. I look forward to seeing it in more detail.
Also in the dark (and is it as crazy as the game?) I’m imagining a quilted representation of the monologues from my script of ‘Keeping Abreast’. It works in my head. As did all the other night-inspired works of genius that bask unfinished in reality. But this time I could persuade the possessors of nifty digits (Sue Higgins! I spy you!) to stitch 9 for every 1 of mine. (A stitch in 9 saves time)
I had planned to visit other Trail sites in regular forays from my portacabin in Hoe St but I only managed to leave my sick bed yesterday, and then merely in a brave search for medicine in the form of whiskey, Not guessing that Viv & co would have such a good selection of single malts, I headed for the Rose & Crown hoping to see a plinth performance as I sipped my linctus. The plinth was bare but I saw the best use a man could make of wood in the form of a painted shed by Adam Graff. It was equally as brilliant as anything Mr Perry could do.
The malts to one side (over here, please!), the R & C was a good choice as it’s packed choca with a deluxe selection of artwork, presenting a good range of quality photos, sculpture and painting. Plus some odd painting/sculpture hybrids about sleep/dreams which were appropriately disturbing.
So now, back to my dreams…to fantasise an embroidery or embroider a fantastic plot to steal a shed…
