The Domestic Soundscape

On Friday I put the finishing touches on the first 21 editions (of 40) of The Sonic Tuck Shop book. On Saturday, I packed them all into a suitcase along with some other hand-made goodies and made my way to Seven Sisters for the SoundFjord gallery launch, which was taking place in Unit 3b, Studio 28, 28 Lawrence Road. I was very happy to showcase The Sonic Tuck Shop there as part of the launch, and even happier to meet up with many people who – so far – I’ve only known online. Many people involved in the Tapespondence project were there and I was reminded that I need to get that tape back up and out into the world again as everyone who contributed to the original tape had good things to say about it.* I had a great time talking to Adam Asnan, Simon Whetham**, Joseph Young and Martin Clarke, and it was also brilliant to see Martin and Lucia again, who collaborated on the Sonic Wallpaper feature in the ROOMS & CHAMBERS episode of The Domestic Soundscape Cut and Splice Podcast series. I particularly enjoyed their mimosa | moize performance at the SoundFjord launch. They used a lot of soft and delicate sonic textures and mixed them in a very sensitive way; it was like a sound-collage made from electric feathers and a trace of it has stayed with me, like a temporary transfer tattoo; all filmy and light and detailed.

I also found the configuration of their performance oddly compelling. Normally I dislike the spectacle of someone twiddling about on a laptop as a performance format, but there was something very engaging about the way these two sat opposite each other, weaving a mix together through their computers. During their performance they were very still, both staring intently ahead into their screens and making only the slightest of movements with the mousepads to generate this very subtle, shared soundscape. The way they sat and communicated through all those electronic circuits reminded me of our very human use of computers and how many connections we make across cyberspace through this interface. In their hands the laptop becomes a delicate instrument, a thing we use for talking to each other in many languages. Sometimes even a language of sweepy, electronic shufflings. I really liked it. Here they are, setting up. I was too transfixed during the performance to photograph it.

There were 2 other performances throughout the afternoon and in between listening to these, I spent a lot of time explaining to people what The Sonic Tuck Shop book is all about. One of the main reasons for making this book – and embarking on the whole Sonic Tuck Shop endeavour -  is that I wanted a way of working with everyday sounds beyond recording them or delivering an electronic, amplified performance featuring recordings. I love working in these ways, but I am also interested in developing forms which can direct listening and change our imaginative relationship with sounds as they naturally occur in the world around us. I also wanted to find forms for celebrating everyday sounds which could be used beyond gallery spaces… such as in the context of shopping at the supermarket, or preparing a meal. Given that this was a Sound Gallery Launch, I think people were a little bit by this unexpected approach to exploring the soundscape. Even experimental areas of artmaking have conventions, and I think my paper and object based approach was bemusing to people who had come along expecting mostly to hear a lot of live, electronic sound-manipulation and to maybe see some CDs for sale. Ididn’t sell any copies of my book, but the complimentary items that I was giving away in celebration of both the book launch and the gallery launch were enthusiastically received by those who got into the idea of The Sonic Tuck Shop.

I felt SoundFjord were especially supportive of the whole concept of The Sonic Tuck Shop and I really enjoyed having the opportunity to be part of the launch of this exciting new venture by Helen Frosi and Andrew Riley. It is really great that a gallery space dedicated to sound is opening in London. According to the SoundFjord website;

SoundFjord is here, not only to showcase and to document new trends in methodology and research, but also to insist on the creation of works that not only stimulate the concerned listener in a novel and inventive way, but similarly, in a refined, deft and probing manner

As part of the gallery’s progressive and universally receptive stance on the essence of what sound art is and can be, SoundFjord seeks to nurture and develop artists whose work shows its own vision, but equally questions itself and the world around it. Indeed, the gallery wishes to be seen as a place to highlight what is challenging in the sound art world

SoundFjord presents itself as a hub for research and networking events, as an occasional venue for live performance within the field of experimental music and sound art performance, as host to lectures, workshops, talks and critiques in and around sound art practice and the art world in its entirety, and also as a collaborative force, motivated to work with other inspired individuals, collectives, galleries, venues, recording labels, institutions and foundations to assist with the materialisation of creative ventures, projects and events

If Saturday’s launch was anything to go by, then we can look forward to much more experimentation and sonic delectation emanating from Lawrence Road. I really enjoyed seeing and being in the space, being able to put so many faces to names and sounds, and to present The Sonic Tuck Shop in another context.

I gave away quite a few sonic hangover cures and letter-press-print-wrapped-apples were a big hit once people understood what they were. I letter-press printed some white tissue paper with the word CRUNCH in several typefaces, at different sizes. The idea was inspired by those wrappers that are sometimes used on apples or oranges and I wanted to visually/linguistically draw attention to both the sound of biting an apple, and the sonic qualities of tissue paper itself. I thoroughly enjoyed unwrapping the apples repeatedly to demonstrate this idea to Sonic Tuck Shop visitors and many people seemed to enjoy the spectacle of the unwrapped print. However one person wanted to take the apple only and leave the wrapper behind… no matter, as another Sonic Tuck enthusiast was very happy to take it in his place!

I love these wrappers in all their physicality; I love the shiny green ink, the meta-data aspect of them, the way they do actually CRUNCH as paper objects, and the fact that they have dual imaginative/practical dimensions. However I am not certain yet that I have found the correct way of displaying them and – like so many of my ideas – they raise further questions of context and audience for me to puzzle out in my thesis.

I also distributed a fair few Sonic Tuck Shop shopping lists, (to help you to select your foodstuffs according to their sonic qualities) and a whole load of ‘Genuine Installation Pieces’ packs. I was sad when I took down The Sonic Tuck Shop installation in Reading on Tuesdayand I decided it should be parcelled out as small packs that people could use to create Sonic Tuck Shop installations in their own homes, should they wish to.

Each pack contains a postcard with an image of the installation in situ and a load of handprinted items from the actual installation itself. I like the idea that people can go away and pin this on a noteboard somewhere, or maybe stick a giant, fluorescent POP on their toaster. At the very least, the idea of emblazoning sound-effects on one’s kitchen is hopefully both fun and accessible.

I also hope that people will go away with The Sonic Tuck Shop shopping list and start mischieviously buying food according to the way it sounds; I also hope that people who read The Sonic Tuck Shop book will find themselves at the market inspecting the cabbages, and then hear a particularly squeaky one and remember the earnest instruction to select one’s cabbages based solely on their squeaking powers; And I hope that at least one person with a hangover will take a little humourous comfort from the noise of their dissolving Alka-Seltzer, which I hand-packed with instructions to ‘allow the sound of this tablet fizzing to gently soothe away your hangover.’

It is always difficult to tell how good my work really is when I am at a gallery, presenting it to the public, attempting to explain myself, and trying to gauge whether people think it is amazing or pure shite. But I feel it is important to keep making my work anyway, to keep putting it out there, to keep earnestly hammering my ideas into shape, and to constantly review the gap between what I think the work is about and the way that people respond to it. That is why today I ventured forth again with my Sonic Tuck Shop – this time to the Oakford Social Club’s Sunday Art Market – to present the concept in a different context.

One person was rather intrigued by the Sonic Tuck Shop shopping list and took a copy  away with him; Martin also seemed happy with the copy of the book plus ‘Genuine Installation Pieces’ pack that I gave him in thanks for all the help he gave me during the installation in the shop window back in June, and several people commented favourably on how they remembered the shop-window installation, and how it had brightened their walk in that part of the town. One person even sounded sad that it has now been taken down. I am not glad to have been instrumental in creating any sadness in this town, but it is encouraging to learn that The Sonic Tuck Shop installation will be missed!

Postcard featuring now finished Sonic Tuck Shop window installation in Reading, Summer 2010.

However, my favourite Sonic Tuck Shop anecdote so far involves my chemist and an exchange we had on Friday when I went in and asked him for his biggest box of Alka Seltzers;

‘Do you have a big weekend planned?’ he enquired, to which I replied ‘well actually, no… it’s for an art project. I’m doing a thing all about the sounds of different edible/ingestible items and I especially like the fizzy noise that Alka-Seltzers make when you dissolve them in water. I’m going to repackage them to draw attention to this aspect of them.’

My chemist laughed at this and apologised for having assumed me to be a wild drunkard.

In that instance at least I feel my intentions for The Sonic Tuck Shop reached another person in fun, mischief, celebration, and playfulness… which hopefully means that I am getting somewhere with this idea.

*Incidentally, I recently found this article – The Paris Tape Run – which details a spin-off project that was inspired by the Tapespondence!

**Simon Whetham is one of the artists who is going to perform at the Sound:Site conference I am currently working on with Martin Franklin, at South Hill Park, and you can hear us both talking in this episode of the Genepool podcast about that forthcoming event and about our work!

Last week I received an email from an extremely kind man in Ireland who had found what he termed ‘my art school folio’ at a car boot sale in Dublin. I was flattered to read that he had picked it up thinking he could actually sell some of the drawings in it on ebay, and touched to learn that on looking through it he had realised it was an object of extreme personal value to someone and that before breaking it up, he should try and find that someone and ask them if they wanted it back. He searched for me online, (my name was inside the front cover) found my email address, and asked me if I would like my folio to be returned to me.

From his descriptions I hoped fervently that it would turn out to be the sketchpad I had in 1995/6 when I was 17, which disappeared some years later from my locker at college in Ireland. I didn’t want to get too excited about it, but the drawings he cited sounded exactly like the ones I remembered – and missed – from the lost book. When the package arrived yesterday, I knew at once that it was indeed this sketchpad.

The heft of it in my hands is as familiar to me now as it was fourteen years ago when this treasured tome went everywhere with me, and the pages are well-worn and dog-eared from time spent in the bottom of a rucksack travelling all around the UK and Wales, and wherever this book has lain since it went AWOL in 2001.

The book has the quality now of being a kind of time capsule, documenting my visits to various exhibitions in London, my hitch-hiking adventures around various hippy camps of the UK, extended stays in Tipi Valley and my teenage, spiritual crises as I struggled to understand ‘The Patriarchy’ and distance myself somewhat from it by embracing a more ‘Feminist’ earth-based spirituality. The clumsy, didactic terms in which I documented this religious transition are cringe-making to read now, but I cannot help also feeling a touch of admiration for my younger, former self, who drew hunting warrior women everywhere, and spent afternoons drawing Goddess statues in The British Museum.

If I remember rightly, I planned to document my spiritual transition through a series of etchings featuring myself walking from inside The Patriarchal Church to the Arcadian, Feministical wonderment of Nature beyond, via a stained-glass window. Although ideologically problematic and flawed on many, many levels, I do like the pages of drawing research I have dedicated to realising this artwork; copying Rembrandt’s windows to see how he gets the light right, drawing the church windows at my own church, doing colour studies featuring ‘the blood’ of Christianity vs. ‘the green life’ of Nature beyond, etc. As a now qualified* Teaching Associate, I am proud to see that when I was younger, I showed good initiative when it came to conducting independent research.

Time has thankfully mellowed my views on ‘The Patriarchy’ and I have less black and white views on religion, but there are fundamental ideas that I learned in and with this sketchpad that have stayed with me and evolved.

For instance this drawing of a water-carrying vessel which I apparently saw at the ‘Museum of Mankind‘ is accompanied by an unusually thoughtful note about the blending of spirituality and function within an everyday object. I was clearly very interested – and still am – in the idea of ascribing value and meaning to everyday things. The cultural significance of ordinary objects is a secular concern for me now, but a love for materiality and the real world around me began as a pagan exploration of religion and a fascination with Earth-goddess figurines. Such figurines represented to my younger self a cultural worldview in which religion and art and moments of ecstasy were not abstracted or removed from normal life… an idea that has matured now into an appreciation for the language of things and objects, the value of the everyday, and an obsession with the tactile and audible qualities of the world around me.

‘Tlazolteotl, an earth goddess also associated with filth and carnal sin’ – according to The British Museum website, who now have an online page about the same statue that I drew in their galleries in 1996.

Amidst these deep ponderings I am glad to say that there is much evidence of my playing in a sketchpad; an activity I still firmly believe has great value for anyone who wants to make and create things.

Collages abound throughout, featuring club night fliers, cigarette packets and other detritus from the less salubrious side of my life. And these are interspersed with thoughtful drawings where I was trying to understand the construction of ivy, or how precisely the waterlillies in my pond were arranged.

I remember the pond vividly; I insisted on having a garden at the end of my parents’ garden where I grew an extremely untidy and largely neglected batch of sunflowers, and enjoyed hosting bonfire parties where me and my friends would sit smoking and drinking and listening to the splashes of the frogs and newts in the pond nearby. The neighbours hated this Dionysian activity and the stench of woodsmoke, and so the fireside parties ended.

I also vividly remember – and I think this is my favourite sketch in the whole book – taking an afternoon to go and draw a tree that grew near my parents’ house in Shirley. It was a beech tree and it grows there still as far as I know, and I remember very clearly the careful hours I spent sitting in a clearing on a warm summer afternoon trying to exactly document the way its branches related to each other.

Another great artwork from this era is my elaborate hairstyle. Dorrie was responsible for putting all those hair-extensions in, and we wrapped them in wool together, and made fimo beads with which to adorn the ends. It weighed a tonne and I had to lie down after washing it because it was so heavy!

I also had a cardigan which I would very much like to recreate now I have seen it again; it was fluffy with a huge collar and massive pockets.

It has been very rich for me to rediscover this treasure from the past and it comes at a timely point when another birthday looms large and when I need reminders that it is good to get older (and hopefully wiser.) It’s also a valuable reminder about how amazing a sketchpad is as a document of life, and what a tactile, material, gorgeous resource it becomes in future years. I love this blog, but in 14 years’ time I won’t be able to hold it with the same trepidation, mix of feelings and recognition of a younger-self that this special book invokes with its hand-drawn lines, exuberant photo-collages and random musings.

I am really so grateful to Duncan for returning this book to me, and hopeful that in 14 years’ time I will feel equally forgiving and retrospectively curious about all the things that I am making now.

*I learned yesterday that I have gained the Associate Teacher’s qualification that I was working towards when I wrote this!

ETA: it is much harder to blog from the phone than I thought, so itinerant broadcasting creativity will have to be confined to audioboo and posterous for now. Still, I decided to add in the photos and sort out this post from the easy interface of my laptop… much simpler all round and still contains awesome lofi phone images.

This is a post from my new phone containing simply a selection of happy things from today! First of all, gorgeous new tweed skirt: I LOVE THIS SKIRT! I started it a few weeks ago in Donegal Tweed, and it is made up according to VOGUE pattern V8424. I wrote about it here.

Secondly, Lyttelton by Kate Davies – an awesome knitting pattern that I am thoroughly enjoying. I have divided for the arms and am working on it like a fiend in between marking student assignments, making gnocchi, and playing with my new shiny toy*.

*please to forgive me for the HTC mania. I promise to be over it by Monday. It’s just an incredible novelty to me to have Internets in my pocket, and to be able to do such marvellous things as make a sonic address book etc. etc. but for now, it seems that blogging by HTC will have to be done in words only as the images thing doesn’t really work.

There is an rss feed which connects ONLY to the sounds in my posts here, so if you read at work or elsewhere where you can’t turn on speakers, and then can’t find the sounds later, you can always subscribe seperately to the RSS feed for this site’s podpress. I will sort out a permalink on the right hand side soon.

Frida and The Missability Radio Show jingle are now attached to the first of the Missability Posts, and a collection of works from Audicle (my first sound art, made in 2003/2004 in circumstances described here) is now available to download as a zip file by right-clicking here.

Also, I now have the sonic phone of my dreams; it is a HTC desire and I am all over audioboo (like twitter, but with sound-recordings…) I am also busy compiling the ultimate sonic-address book, by assigning particular sounds to all the people in my contacts list. I have discovered an amazing website, filled with ringtones made by sound-artists, called toneshared and it has made me think about what kinds of ringtones I could make myself…

So, a question to you all: what is your idea of The Best Ringtone in the world?

Our Joey is big on sleep.

I greatly admire how cute he can look when he’s asleep. Here he is on Mark’s lap (his favourite place for being cute) a few weeks ago.

…and here he is, deciding that muck on his face can wait until after his nap for cleaning attention. Did I mention that Joey is very relaxed?

It was always only a matter of time before my appreciation for the cat began to ferment into some sort of knitting-related inspiration, and so it was that last week – after spotting an intriguing, cat-themed fairisle creation on Ravelry – I acquired for the princely sum of 1p on Amazon, my very own copy of Melinda Coss’s 1988 book of cat-themed knitting patterns, Cat Knits.

This book is amazing.

I love this gormless moggie, with its cuddly paws all akimbo and big, surprised eyes. I especially like how the pretty ginger tabby that clearly inspired the design seems to be studiously ignoring it in this photo below:

In fact, throughout the book there are many such incidents featuring mildly disdainful felines on or beside the knitted offerings designed in their honour. Here, for instance, we see the lovely ginger tabby again, this time beribboned in a tartan bow, and contemplating a true testimony to THE POWER of 1980s knitting. THE POWER involves 1. popular culture reference(s)* 2. bobbles 3. intarsia GALORE 4. plenty of black and 5. at least one knitted area designed to resemble animal-print.

I also quite like the blurry photo below, and Mark and I wondered how long the photographers had to wait for this black and white kitty to acknowledge this pillow:

To me, this feline nonchalence is absolutely typical of cats. I know full well that even if I spent many hours concocting the ultimate knitted intarsia testimony to our Joey, the best I could hope for is that he might sleep on it and maybe shed some little furs on its surface. Other crafters know this.

As well as the amusing depiction of human/cat relations exhibited throughout ‘Cat Knits,’ there are some designs which remind me of Jane Garton’s ‘Wild Knitting’ in terms of humour and playfulness. I love this spilled milk even though – as Mark rather uncharitably pointed out – milk doesn’t pour quite like this in real life:

I also like very much the fun involved in this sardine-tin design; on the back of the sweater those silver, knitted sardines you can see here in the tin below have become fish skeletons because the tortoiseshell cat has eaten them all.

I must admit that I am very taken with the scrunchy brickwork texture and the grumpy expression of the cat in this cardigan:

However, I think that I need to be further along in my weight-watchers journey before I could seriously consider placing a giant, rotund fishbowl motif across my arse.

My pick of the book is this fairisle sweater, as I think the shapes of the cat motifs are particularly graceful and the palette shows unusual restraint for knitwear from this period:

Overall I think the book effectively demonstrates what can happen when you acquire five cats. Cats have a habit of wheedling their way into your heart with their charming ways and causing you to venerate them at all opportunities. Ancient Egyptian societies made carved effigies of their kittys; in the 1980s, themed tea and egg cosies were more the thing:

Luckily Joey has exhibited his usual characteristic disinterest in my doings lately, and so he has no idea that I have been reading this book and absorbing its influence. Furthermore, I’m pretty sure that even if I do some up with some Joey-themed knits, he will have the good grace to put it down to my foolish human sensibilities and continue life in an unaffected fashion, mostly sleeping, relaxing, and being cute…

Kitty links:

Joanna Lumley’s documentary, Catwoman

Radiolab’s parasites special, including interesting focus on toxoplasmosis

Unicorn costume for kitty (srsly) – Rav link

*This sweater is one of two featured in the book that celebrate CATS – The Musical

Several online sound projects have come to my attention and it seems that either my subscribing to sound blogs etc. has reached saturation point, or else every other website I look at has suddenly decided to develop a sonic element to their online presence. I have been planning my ideas for World Listening Day, and for the Sound:Site conference I am working on for this October, and the following items have come to my attention via the interwebs:

The National Trust Sounds album, collated by Jarvis Cocker
The OCM Sounds of Oxfordshire project by Robert Jarvis, now available to download for the princely sum of £3.16
Janek Schaefer’s Childhood Melodies album, available free via the ever-inspiring Audioh!
Announcement of forthcoming exhibit ‘Whispering in the Leaves‘ by Chris Watson, including a plethora of fine sounds to download including quality monkey sounds… (this last being most pleasing, of course, to dear Monkl featured above, playing with my knitted headphones at Love is Awesome.)

You may recall the ‘music in everything you hear remix‘ I created a few months ago; in the spirit of today’s joyous sonic overload, I have republished it here and also on my new sounds-only posterous site; a scrapbook I’m putting together on sonic-resources.

In case you were wondering about the bizarre title of this post, it comes from one of my favourite LUSH shower gels – the only cosmetic product I know of which references sound in its title – Sonic Death Monkey. Like this post, Sonic Death Monkey utilises coffee for its energising properties.

I’ll close by sharing with you my answers to the National Trust Sound Survey, which I urge you all to complete as a creative exercise in listening and thinking about sound.

1. What is your favourite sound in the world?

My favourite sound ever is my partner whispering in my ear at night. I love the physical intimacy of this sound, the way it’s a sound that’s just for me, and the sensation of the words literally touching my eardrum.

2. Which sounds evoke the National Trust to you?

The distinctive duet of very old, creaking, wooden stairs mixed with brittle, curved, wooden bannisters.

3. Which is your favourite track from our selection of sounds?

Patterson’s Spade Mill.

 

 Music in Everything: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

It’s come to that point when my camera is absolutely stuffed with photographs and I need to delete some. But before I dump them all into the recycle bin, I wanted to share a few of the choice and thus far undocumented moments of recent weeks in Spring, for prosperity, for inspiraton, for fun, and because I deeply need a break from writing my self-evaluation teaching assignment in a windlowless room in my University. I am too weighed down with laptop, textbooks, photocopied sheets, notebooks etc. to joyously trip off outside and into the sunshine and so I must bring it indoors!

First up, I believe these are collared doves, living in the tree behind my bedsit. I have yet to blog about the splendid array of birds and their songs that surround the neglected little patch of land where we all park our cars, but I am constantly amazed by how many birds there are and these two beauties just stunned me the other day when I was out there attempting to photograph my knitwear for this post.

For anyone who was wondering what has happened to all my WW counting and budgeting, these things are continuing and this week I discovered to my joy that I had lost 3lbs! I am feeling super tiny and really enjoying not having 3 arses when I need to run up the stairs to fetch something and I celebrated the news of this happy, lighter situation with a slap-up-breakfast of scotch pancakes, tinned prunes, layered fromage frais and fresh plums.

I particularly enjoy the juxtaposition of these healthful items with the rather less healthy English Fry and attendant sound effects detailed on the Sonic Breakfast Plate. I also indulged myself with some menu-planning stationery; you all know how much I love the stationery.

Joey, at a particularly confused moment. I think what made me take this photograph was the way he was staring so intently at the wall, plus it was a rare opportunity to capture the endearing, boss-eyed quality that his face takes on at certain times.

The A4074 project continues apace; the footpaths appear especially enticing from my car, since the oilseed rape has burst into flower, flushing the hills all around a lavish shade of process yellow. I know from experience that this thrill will be short lived so am hoping to get out there again this weekend. Here is Mark, stopping for a water break somewhere near Itchen. I think he looks particularly dashing here, with his rakish hair being backdropped, Heathcliff-style, by the brooding skies and rolling hills of, ahem Oxfordshire. We must go to more wild and untamed landscapes for the full Wuthering Heights effect, but this is still quite good in the meantime.

Our I SPY/I HEAR Woodstock @ 900 special a couple of weeks ago on The Hub contained many joyous I SPY moments, but I especially like the stocks, and this photo of the book illustration beside the real thing.

I also liked this fearsome bear, in the back of The Bear Hotel. I took this for Mark, in celebration of his ursine inclinations and general ferocity/dashingness. (See above.)

It is a good job that I have shrunk, as my Hourglass Sweater did not fare well in a recent trip to the launderette. I have discovered that a cold wash works wonders over there with my handknits; however the delicates wash clearly involves some kind of felting process (hot followed by cold perhaps? A little bit too much sloshing around in the machine?) Anyway, no matter. The hourglass sweater and the headigan are now smaller than they were by about a third, but the headigan had become baggy from being worn so often and I am approximately two thirds of my original size, so everything fits just great! Now I just wish I could felt all my pants and jeans by approximately one third of their current size…

Here is a top I spotted in the window of a shop in Wales. It is a thing of beauty and I wish to recreate it. I feel confident that my modest sewing skills will allow me to assemble some sort of version of this, but I took the photograph to remind myself of the little details that make this so nice… pleats, thin fabric, pretty colours, that edging…

Finally, here is a photo from Bill Fontana’s amazing installation at Somerset House, which I went to visit last week. It is an excellent piece of work that deserves its own post but for now I shall just give you this tantalising glimpse!

And now I am done with the random flotsam of my camera and must return to the tedium of assignment writing! What random photos do YOU have on your camera?

WELL DONE LIZ!

I was in Wales over the weekend staying with Brenda and Tonia. It was a very rich adventure for me and I came away with loads of new ideas, a ball of yarn I’d made on Brenda’s spinning tools, some drawings, and an enhanced admiration for Jane Lynch’s acting, the outstanding Radiolab podcasts, Garrison Keillor’s Lake Woebegone monologues and The Moth Podcast. I also came away with a beautiful Norah Gaughan cardigan that Brenda gave me, but this is so amazing that it really deserves its own post.

In knitting news, I completed 2 zigzag beanies from this pattern using up old stash, and I finished the prototype for The Listen Hat. Most of the knitting for The Listen Hat was done sitting against these stones.

While we watched these lambs.

On Sunday morning we went to a carboot sale and browsed. Having just read about Hornsea pottery on Rattling On, I instantly recognised this.

We all lusted after this amazing 1950s coffee drinking set, but agreed that between us there simply wasn’t enough space to store or utilise such a grand thing.

During other moments of my stay, I drew Tonia’s beautiful spoons.

One of the things I remember from Art College and the brief time that we spent on drawing is the idea that in every good drawing, there is a visible search. As soon as you look away from what you’re drawing and start adding gratuitous shading and special effects, you are no longer searching and that is a thing I have tried to stick to in my own drawing; to always be looking for a specific thing. In this drawing what I was mostly trying to record was the depth of each spoon and the width of its edge. There is something profoundly intimate and sensual about these spoons that are so well fitted to mouths and hands and I appreciate them all the more for taking the time to try and record these specifics.

I also sat on some rocks on the beach and drew barnacles, and wrote about all the sounds I could hear.

I have come away full of sunshine, (it was so warm that I caught the sun a little on my shoulders) a little plumper, (we ate SO WELL) rested after a break from the Internet and the TV, and inspired by all the tactile/real-life pleasures of a weekend spent mostly offline and enjoying the real world.

I’m getting back to thrifting, counting my WW points and all the work that The Hub entails now I’m back in Reading, but it’s all easier when you have a bit of sunshine inside. I hope you all got some too.

I don’t know if it’s Spring or what, but it seems like all the blogs I subscribe to have recently been full of delicious gems that I feel I must pass on. In the style of Susie’s amazing Probably Something You Would Like posts, here are my round-ups of what I’m enjoying at the moment around the Internet.

Sound Links

The London Sound Survey have some beautiful April recordings of all the seasonal bird doings. I was especially excited about a recording made in Lewisham; it’s quite near to where I grew up and the suburban sound of great tits and blackbirds – although ubiquitous at the moment – is one I never tire of hearing. Check out that recording and many more, here.

Speechification, a journey South. Alice sent me this link and after getting hooked on the first few moments, I am saving up the whole recording for tonight’s bedtime story. I will also probably spend some time perusing the delicious archives of the Touch Radio Blog, which looks to be full of beautifully crafted podcasts by Chris Watson and Co.

Ace.

It was also great to find this recording of Florida Palm Trees over on Margaret Noble’s Sound is Art blog. ‘Swaying Palms’ is one of the Gentle Fire sounds which I developed by processing the sound of Mark’s chainsaw; it is amazing to hear how real palm trees really sound and this recording is lovely. I think it was made by Michael Raphael whose blog is one of the best.

I was also excited to read this article about the renaissance of the cassette tape; this time last year was spent knee-deep in cassettenalia while I prepared TAPE; one of the podcasts for The Domestic Soundscape Cut and Splice series and I enjoyed this article, refreshing the interest in tape for 2010.

Animal Links

Lately there has been a spree of amazing animal posts around the Internet.

I loved this post on Devon Fine Fibres about a Bowmont Braf Wether called Cuthbert. All my favourite shepherding blogs are full of bittersweet joyous/sad lambing news at the moment and I love reading about all the news from the fiber farms, but there is something especially funny and moving about this post in particular.

I do like it when people write about the bond they experience with their animals and I was reminded while reading about Cuthbert of a lovely post a few months ago on Barbara Parry’s blog, about her Llama, Crackerjack.

I also very much enjoyed Deb Robson’s discussion of different kinds of fibres and the importance of preserving rare breed fibre animals, over on The Independent Stitch.

Relatedly, I was very sad to read recently that Mudchute Farm have lost some of their sponsorship, which has made it hard for them to continue the work they do there with rarebreed animals. I think Mudchute is one of the most important projects happening in London today and I am considering sponsoring a sheep or making a regular donation if I can work out the fundage. City farms are incredible; they help to bridge gaps in knowledge about where food comes from, they provide a very necessary oasis away from the madness, they keep urban spaces green, and they provide vital education.

Mudchute farm; Llamas, Oxford Down sheep and Whitefaced Woodland sheep.

In related sheep news, I was delighted to read this article about a head teacher being reinstated, after having earlier resigned from her position following death threats and abuse. The reason Andrea Charman received such abuse was that she allowed the school’s lamb to be slaughtered, and the resultant chops to be auctioned off so that the school could buy more farm animals. The article explains the whole situation really well; I was just glad that Charman is back in her job and that people are recognising how valuable it is for us to actually explore where our meat comes from.

In other ovine news I was excited (whilst researching the ultimate Nordic knitting voyage of my dreams) to discover the existence of a historic document entitled The Sheep Letter, which was a document drawn up in the Faroe Islands in 1298. The sheep letter concerns the importance of sheep and rules for sheep breeding in the Faroe Islands.

My final favourite animal link is the wonderful Mousehunt detailed over on Rattling On, a wonderful Blog I’ve recently found via Colleen.

Appreciating the Everyday links

Mundane Appreciation are working on a supermarket/food project at the moment which looks very exciting; I love this Mundane Appreciation video concerning Supermarket shopping habits and enjoyed reading through their Food questionnaire.

I Go To The Supermarket from Mundane Appreciation on Vimeo.

On a slightly different note, I enjoyed very much the celebratory nature of The Knitting Goddess’ Printer Ink yarn colourway. The Cyan, Magenta and Process Yellow that make up printer ink rarely get to shine and I really liked the idea for using something so everyday and office/domestic as the basis for a colourway.

Colleen also alerted me to Oliver Burkeman’s amazing article on To-Do lists; this was especially pertinent when I read it a few days ago, but we always need further information on To-Do lists and I did enjoy reading this immensely.

That wraps up the linkage for today, numbers and knitting next week.