Showing posts with label toast. Show all posts
Showing posts with label toast. Show all posts

Thursday, 13 September 2018

learning to write, the Arvon way

'passing poplars' a book made at Arvon


I am a few days back from a writing week in Devon.

Arvon, Totleigh Barton.

Bookmaking and poetry; Rachel Hazell, and Nancy Campbell as tutors with a guest visit by Richard Long, one of my favourite land artists.

A course made for me. All my favourite things, and a chance to get some ideas on how to write more creatively.

I had to beg them to take me. They squeezed me in at the last minute, and so began one of the most creative weeks of my life.



The house is an old manor house, with heavy beams and a garden full of apples and quiet spots for reading or writing.

No wifi, no TV and almost no telephone reception, unless you ran up the hill into the cow field.

Scroll free September became remarkably easy.

views from the cow field


Cows everywhere.


Some sheep too.

A 40 minute walk to Sheepwash, the nearest village.


Luscious dew laden grass all around.


And juicy blackberries in all the hedgerows.





The only thing I could complain about was the mattress on my bed.

We were told to write three words down as soon as we woke up in the morning. Before doing anything else.

This is a shortened version of 'morning pages' that is a regular habit for some writers.

My three words increasingly became about my bed.

uncomfortable
cold              (because I was too lazy to get up in the night and close the open window)
coiled spring
stiff

 but also

authentic
unsettling
fulfilled


We had so many new ideas to deal with. Brain buzzing day and night.  
Book structures , hand-writing with real ink and nibs, creating poems by erasing text on a page of an existing book, learning about local 'lost'words, and choosing a word of our own to 'abandon'.

We tied lost words to the rowan tree outside the kitchen, and watched the words fluttering in the autumn sunshine.



We cooked together, ate wonderfully, and listened to each others' words.

I wrote a concrete poem about toast, using the words of instruction from our first evening on how to deal with safety issues.

We were advised to minotor our toast activity........a phrase that stuck in my head for several days.


toast © caroline fraser 2018

There was plenty of angst about writing and making things in short time frames.

I would normally go for months between the arrival of one poem and the next. I wrote several poems over the five days, most of which were about the process of trying to write under pressure.


Later in the week I found myself writing in pen and ink on Somerset velevet paper.

A new way of expressing myself.
One that  felt absolutely right.






And for a piece on "Lines in the Landscape' I created a concertina book of poplar leaves, sewn in with thread.

It won't last, but again, I felt happy.

Something to share that I felt represented my aesthetic and love of nature.




A far cry from my Camberwell book art days. I think I have finally got them out of my system.

Finally we created an edition of 18 cards ; one for each participant on the course.


In homage to Richard Long  and his 'Line made by Walking'   I made this............

No camera. No computer.

Just a piece of paper and an ink stamp.


Lines made by Livestock © Caroline Fraser 2018


 It doens't do to take life too seriously.

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For more on the tutors follow these links

 Rachel Hazell

Nancy Campbell

Arvon writing courses

Wednesday, 9 October 2013

toast and cheerios on the road to Ullapool

ring for service


I have a lot to tell you about my recent trip to Achiltibuie, but before I get into the finer details of my photographic exploits, I feel obliged to share with you what was probably my most extraordinary coffee stop on the trip. The road to Ullapool from Inverness is one of my favourite drives in the world. So many happy memories.

But clearly not a route for baristas or coffee lovers.

This hotel/B&B was the only place that I found open on a two hour drive. I popped in for a coffee. I have forgotten the name, which is not a problem as I won't be partaking of the B&B facilities.

I rang the bell for service.

A very elderly gentleman appeared from somewhere else.

I asked for a coffee.

He brought it.

It was foamy on the top and tasted vile. I felt obliged to drink half of it as I try my best to be polite most of the time.

He told me to leave the money on the table and disappeared back to somewhere else. I strolled around looking for a map.

I found the Cheerios



cheerios and a china sale


I found the toaster



with butter , jam or marmalade

And I found a conservatory stuffed full of things that I really didn't need as a passing tourist.



if you see something make me an offer
 I didn't buy furniture, old videos or even a cot.

I didn't buy dodgy second hand clothes or a china elephant, and I certainly didn't make him an offer.

I left my money on the table,  popped to the loo, and bid a hasty retreat, never to be seen again.

The rest of the trip was so much better.

I will tell you about it soon.

But I needed to get that out of my system, and now I have.