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posted by St. Anthony at Friday, November 10, 2006
Friday, November 10, 2006
These Fragments I Have Shored Against My Ruins
- Five things about me
- King For A Day
- The algebra of need
- Sunday morning
- Paging Dr Benway ...
- That obscure object of desire
- MR PUGH WANTS TO PLAY
- The Poet Milton
7 Comments:
Only if Mr. Punch hits the crocodile five times.
Do you think that Mr. Punch is a reincarnation of Joyce?
Punch is an interestingly ambiguous character, I always think. I'm reminded of the wonderful The Wickerman. Weird stuff to show to kids on some windswept beach somewhere: an armed and dangerous wife-beater avading the police. Surely though, 'That's the way to do it' is a great catchphrase. Great to see schwitters in there. A hero to me. Some artwork by Hirst is being auctioned, proceeds going to save Schwitters' barn near Elterwater in The Lake District. The Merz itself was saved previously by Richard Hamilton, taken to Newcastle University, where he (Hamilton) used to teach/still does teach. I looked for the barn several times years ago, but never found it. Schwitters' influence is always understated, I think.
I found Joyce on myspace today. Good for him, I say.
Perhaps Hirst's career will not have been in vain if he can help preserve something of Schwitters' legacy? Good old Kurt - yes, he's one of those underground influences that are always there, bubbling up.
I love Punch ...despite his Continental roots, he is the quintessence of Englishness - like you say, freezing your arse off on a dismal beach somewhere, soggy sandwiches and a nice helping of domestic violence and murder.
It's what childhood is all about.
Yes, Hirst might be partly valid after all. I like his shark. But it's no artwork. I just liked seeing a shark up close is all.
Punch is as you say! I love the miserable British summers! As achild, we spent ours in Rhyl, north Wales, and at Butlins, Skegness. We drove all the way from between Liverpool and Manchester - St. Helens, that is - to fucking Skegness! Insane! So crap. We - the English - are so proud of our crapness, though! Unbeatable!
I feel that, here in dear old Blighty, we're world beaters when it comes to crapness.
I have many a childhood memory of freezing on some shoddy little beach at Southend.
A drizzle-blurred Blackpool beach this end, Anthony. Winscale '50s rain. Its towers barfing up cancer to keep the NW's mortality rates firmly in the relegation zone. I know Northern Ireland is just over the horizon, too; where they are blowing each others arms and legs off; apparently over details about the status of The Virgin Mary.
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