Arctic Dawn

orion arctic dawn
Orion Arctic Dawn

Synthetic … in the best sense.

Ray Harryhausen’s Dynamation meets Ilya Repin’s Volga Barge Haulers, Poussin meets Hergé, ancient myth meets Mary Shelley.

Blind Orion drags the 200,000 ton mega rig, Berkut, into the Arctic Dawn.

Orion, earthborn, the most beautiful of the giants … the childhood of mankind. Innocent but insatiable: took whatever he wanted. Was blinded for raping Merope. Forgiven and restored. And still boasted that he could kill all the animals of the earth.
Horrified, Gaia created a giant scorpion on which he trod.
And that was the end of Orion.

Not that you could stretch beautiful or innocent to include Trump, Johnson, Bolsonaro, Putin or their moneyed master giants.

Everything must change … we cannot just go back … we will not just go on, we have relearned what we had forgot … sheesh, how naive can some people be. Don’t worry your little heads, they won’t let you get ideas.
The people who created this disaster by dismantling even our prepared response, who had already dismantled so much, the value of which we are now rediscovering are spying new opportunities, new horizons as we hunker down, reconnect to our communities and fall in love with peace and quiet and clear skies and birdsong … though the boring, sour dough cruelty of lockdown has been denied to so many who had no choice but be our front line.

They knew they would not be forgiven for spending to avert a disaster but know they will never be forgiven for not spending to rescue us from it either — so they spend. The bill will be so much higher in money terms, never mind human, but so will the upsides too. Clear the decks, reset, game over, on to the next level. You cannot argue with a divine dispensation.
But they didn’t just stumble because they were short-sighted short-termists. They are thick and stupid, greedy and selfish but they also do not care at all. If we die, if we get sick, if we go hungry, if we are fired, if we are homeless, if we are afraid, it simply does not register as valid feeling never mind pain. It’s not just that some animals are more equal than others, it’s a nineteenth century dichotomy: we have eternal souls, they do not.
If it means anything at all to them it is a moral lesson to the dead — you, individually and in isolation, failed the rest of us, you failed your family and yourself.
It must be so — black or brown skin, underlying health conditions, poor housing, hard work, low pay — these are lifestyle choices after all. It is right that you paid because everything must be paid for.
Except what isn’t.

Baffled and frightened, angry and … helpless and just so fucking angry.
Is it too drippy a retreat to wander the glades of Mount Latmos or wherever?
I think I love Poussin because I am intrigued and entranced but not intimidated. And like Beethoven with Diabelli’s trite little waltz, you’re somehow liberated.
Eee — you grandiose …
Whatever.

RGB

tin fire

Red

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Green

blue bird

Blue

In more ways than one.

Liminal

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Paradox: tropical palms apparently frozen on the wrong side of the threshold at Eden.

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A selkie pushing hard against the petrified lacy caul of the earth, yearning for the amniotic ocean just beyond its reach.

Fossilised Sea

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The Rocky Shore

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There are no straight lines in nature … waste not want not because every cloud has a silver lining … apart from the ones that are …

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And if it looks alike it must have the same cause or at least be related somehow … rhino horns and willies … it’s obvious … or not.

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Glimpsing parallel universes … through the looking glass.

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An escapee from the set of a 60’s star trek episode. Just after this, I picked it up and, with much affected huffing and puffing, threw it at a reptilian alien who disagreed with me.

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Graphics and … Caligraphy

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Exploring, wandering, clambering across Porth Ledden just below the Cape …

The Old One Comes to claim his own …

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An impromptu, innocent and gentle crepuscular walk in the grounds of Trelissick turns into an unexpected action movie plot point: a monstrous kraken hauls itself from the mire and lumbers, clicking and creaking and groaning, fingers its way across the sward … and we run … and I tip my camera over my shoulder in the hope of … and we are free … well, derrr …

And then today I was wandering across the apocalytic wastes around Geevor and was reminded of the obsessively claustral, sepulchral aesthetic of the geological vampires of our recent past.

door to the underworld
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Friends who’ve come here say: it’s not pretty — no; it’s so frighteningly, dangerously hard — yes; it doesn’t let you forget, does it — no; but it still slips its mineral veins deep into your soul like brittle mycelium — oh yes.

And wherever you go, the Bucca are watching …

totem
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You can fly to the furthest reaches of the globe and fuck the future of our world, and ignore the politics and the ecology and the economics and … and gawp at the natural wonders of the world and tick off your bucket list scores or you can look around yourself, here and now, orient yourself and choose to belong and see the beauty and the depth and the magic of the place where you stand … and …

geevor
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cobble together a collage of 6 photos and try to say something about us, people, and the earth, and about the sea and history and hardship and pain and about home.

Beautiful Fruit

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On the Rocks

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Asleep at the helm … a not-so-subtle Brexit reference … the wreck of the RMS Mulheim which ran aground in Gamper Bay near Lands’ End in 2003, when the chief officer tripped, fell, banged his head and passed out. She was eventually broken up and thrust into Castle Zawn where she remains.

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A particularly dull photograph of the Long Ships Lighthouse on Carn Bras off Land’s End. That is … until you look at it full size and see the Scillies on the horizon. A full 28 miles away but clear as day … never had such visibility here.

gull rock
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Enys Dodnan … home of the handsome, fearsome black-backed gulls.

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Slit arch at Nanjizal Cove.

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Beautiful, filthy waterfall on to the beach.

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On the inland route back to Sennen we foraged for deliciously ripe sloes, filling our empty lunch box with future christmas cheer. The fennel vodka is already maturing … nom nom nom.

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Incredibly intense cornflower blue … cornflowers at the side of the path, Centaurea cyanus.
And eventually, safe back in harbour … long before sunset for once.

Swamped

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Just wandered out to get an image I needed of the sky and found the buddleja covered in butterflies, including this beautiful Painted Lady, Vanessa cardui. I didn’t know they were migrants too. Along with the geese and the cuckoos and the robins and the starlings and the …

I’ve got a horrible feeling that if we ever did stop all freedom of movement we’d die of lonely silent hungry thirsty brain-dead BOREDOM.

Gunwalloe

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I’m not sure what it is but there were lots of these beautiful little things on the cliffs above Church Cove.

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Now that I can identify: Atropa Belladonna. I assume the berries are unripe, I’m sure they go black but the blue and red were incredibly intense.

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Down at Gunwalloe Fishing Cove, an exposed seam of quartz is breaking down.

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Having dutifully applied my flying ointment (see above) I rode the air and looked down from a great height and saw … errr … or not. Scale independence.

dragon
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… found a dragon trapped inside a rock … sort of … if you tilt your head and squint a bit.

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And in the graveyard of St Winwalo’s Church, the saddest of stories in a few terse lines. Life really does hang by a thread.