COLONISTS OUT

Dwellings and yelling from Yr Wyddfa to Canigou. Agent Rage of angry interactions meets Agent Calm of reasoned art interventions, as they search for a home that lies scattered somewhere in the heart of these pages. I realised that my home was somewhere other than where I lived with the curtains and carpets and I dwelled in the joyful ecstasy of an epic-stage that is indestructible, luminous and inspiring. I enter my home everytime I work. it is connected to all the creatures that work in this way, the land and beyond.
How many people can truly say they reside in this world?

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SOFT EXPLOSIVE HARD EMBRACE

A poetic saga in words, images and sounds. An anti-vision of Snowdonia, set within the great, grey holes of Dinorwig quarry, Llanberis, North Wales. The poem explores the fascinating perversity of destruction and the legacy of disassociation with the land. The heroes, bards and poets are flung into a dark cauldron, a world broth of mythocentricity, religions, cults and symbols – and the demand to cap roofs – the business of a paid job.
The way the land is changed, changes us.
With sonic soundscape composed entirely from sounds recorded in the quarry.

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… AND ONE FOR THE CROW


Images and words of ascent. A collection of essays based around my 40 new routes in Wales. It is an attempt to trace a passionate thread through my work as an image maker and the creative climbing that I engaged in as a process to both anchor and release…it is an advocation of a more romantic, spiritual approach to movement on rock, and of the creativity that liberates that spirituality. Perhaps when the rock climbers understand their language, far away from the domination of bodies and style and fashion, they will have no need to touch rock…out of understanding and creative use, new languages are born.


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HERO GONE BENT

Essays from the margins. As a climber on the edge of unknowing, I can convince myself that I still see the active-game-play, but I am only just hanging in before falling into bewilderment and oblivion. From long ago, the mountains held the myths, fortresses, flags and armies appeared from the mists and territories were lost and gained. Shepherds, miners and loners move in and the botanist with rhizome in mind, crawling on all fours, teetered with a trowel on the high terrace of ferns. The privileged in tweeds appeared and then the working man with new ideas. Then the scampering crag-rats ruled from the chalky margins, leaving space for the beautiful brave to follow, and now the institute is well and truly upon us, bright and sexy-intravenous all the way to the dystopic world stage of commerce and bling…and the malevolence of sport.


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