ZARBOTH NEW RELEASE & TOUR in Switzerland

Its been a long time! I’ve been busy though. I’m going to get back into my website. Its not a new year resolution or anything I’m just getting sick and tired of social media and its algorithms that push us under the radar even more. That said take time to look at my instagram

So tomorrow on tour with Zarboth! Our new album (with artwork by yours truly) which is a two track album SIDE A and SIDE B is available worldwide through bandcamp here

The two tracks are Underground River which is about the vital force in all of us, that a lot of us don’t see or want to see… and Putain Putain which is the B side asks the timely question what does it mean to be European. This is a track that we all look forward to playing in Switzerland, that most European of non European countries.

Who knows what Europe means anymore? We don’t!

This song Putain Putain is a cover version of a song by TC Matic with the Belgian singer Arno- there are some lyrics in Flemish. I threw a Beastie Boys rap into the mix, just go and check it out. Hope you enjoy the sound.

And so tomorrow we take all of this to Switzerland – come and see us if you live there and put the word out to others who might like to come and see us. Here are the dates:

ZARBOTH on TOUR:

January
24 : Zürich (CH), Rotwoche
25 : Fribourg (CH), La Tour Vagabonde
26 : Porrentruy (CH), La Galerie du Sauvahe (Muzak)

March
21 : Paris (75), L’International

April
12 : West (Breizh), Help
13 : Angoulême (16), Mars Attack
26 : Gérardmer (88), Le Grattoir
27 : Strasbourg (67), Festival Bendorf

Taking part in VRRRR Festival 2017

VRRRR Festival 2017

I am one of the eleven artists chosen to take part in the VRRRR Festival 2017. The festival takes place in Toulon in the south of France.

Non stop drawing

For three days the Musée d’art de Toulon will have non stop drawing, music and performance. I’m on my way down there now and really looking forward to taking part. This year is special because it is going to be a retrospective of all of the previous artists. It is also going to be the last edition of the festival for a while, because they are going to renovate the musée d’art de Toulon.

I don’t really know what I am going to do but that is part of the festival !

Berlin – Toulon

Last week I went to Berlin for the first time in my life (late developer). It was an excellent holiday and really good preparation for this festival. Berlin was like a huge open air art school. There is definitely a spirit of experimentation. Art is everywhere, and some of it is so beautiful. Overall it doesn’t matter because there is a lot of space.

I didn’t have any particular ideas when I went there. Travelling is always so fascinating. You are so open and such great things happen.

Image Nation

So here I am travelling again. And for the next three days I’ll be travelling in my imagination. Image Nation.

Exhibiting in Toulon

I will post to my website everyday during the festival and for more informal, off the cuff stuff, you can see my instagram feed or my facebook page.

All the pieces I create during the festival will be exhibited from the 10th until 25th November 2017 in the musée d’art de Toulon. All the pieces will be for sale in Toulon and there are lots of other fabulous artists who will be there so if you are around, come on over. Its free entry, open to all.

Poetry

I managed to learn (more or less) Song of Childhood by Peter Handke last weekend in Berlin. I will do my best to learn a poem for this weekend but I’m sure you’ll all be very understanding if I don’t manage to do it…

Dream State

Now I am going to rest and hopefully enter into a dream state…

Saying Song of Childhood by Peter Handke

This week I learnt off Song of Childhood by Peter Handke. It is cold on the video and I am not vey happy with this version.

When the child was  a child…

The child is still a child …

 

Song of Childhood

When the child was a child
It walked with its arms swinging,
wanted the brook to be a river,
the river to be a torrent,
and this puddle to be the sea.

When the child was a child,
it didn’t know that it was a child,
everything was soulful,
and all souls were one.

When the child was a child,
it had no opinion about anything,
had no habits,
it often sat cross-legged,
took off running,
had a cowlick in its hair,
and made no faces when photographed.

When the child was a child,
It was the time for these questions:
Why am I me, and why not you?
Why am I here, and why not there?
When did time begin, and where does space end?
Is life under the sun not just a dream?
Is what I see and hear and smell
not just an illusion of a world before the world?
Given the facts of evil and people.
does evil really exist?
How can it be that I, who I am,
didn’t exist before I came to be,
and that, someday, I, who I am,
will no longer be who I am?

When the child was a child,
It choked on spinach, on peas, on rice pudding,
and on steamed cauliflower,
and eats all of those now, and not just because it has to.

When the child was a child,
it awoke once in a strange bed,
and now does so again and again.
Many people, then, seemed beautiful,
and now only a few do, by sheer luck.

It had visualized a clear image of Paradise,
and now can at most guess,
could not conceive of nothingness,
and shudders today at the thought.

When the child was a child,
It played with enthusiasm,
and, now, has just as much excitement as then,
but only when it concerns its work.

When the child was a child,
It was enough for it to eat an apple, … bread,
And so it is even now.

When the child was a child,
Berries filled its hand as only berries do,
and do even now,
Fresh walnuts made its tongue raw,
and do even now,
it had, on every mountaintop,
the longing for a higher mountain yet,
and in every city,
the longing for an even greater city,
and that is still so,
It reached for cherries in topmost branches of trees
with an elation it still has today,
has a shyness in front of strangers,
and has that even now.
It awaited the first snow,
And waits that way even now.

When the child was a child,
It threw a stick like a lance against a tree,
And it quivers there still today.

By Peter Handke