Sunday, 25 March 2012

Look again

















You see, I'm more
than just a shape.
Long legs,
musical fingers,
kiss-hollowed
creases.
Perfect presentation
in simple smooth.

Run a hand
along my ledge.
Surplus sighs,
ribald residue,
skin-flake
confetti.
Explicitly yours,
in a love litter.

© Martin Hodges


Monday, 19 March 2012

Unfixed Expression

Ever since I included 'A Little Pabloesque' in my sidebar, I've been keeping an eye on Ginny's artistic development. Ginny is SW's younger sister - one of identical twins - and she's leaning towards expressionism. At least it looks that way, if her latest creation is anything to go by. The truth is, today has been more challenging than usual. Ginny's world didn't quite spin the way she would have liked and, consequently, she had 'stuff' to get off her chest, with the help of Crayola pens. After which, we needed an effective cleaner to get the Crayola off of the artist.


Artwork by Ginny

And talking of creation, I'm still trying to get my head around a story I heard told to pupils during a school church service. The vicar made the point that before God had a hand in things, the world was just a ball of mud. Actually it still is, around here, after a wet winter, but that's beside the point. And, I'm not having a dig at religion when I say, I just don't see how such an assertion can be reconciled with celebrating 'Science Week' back in the classroom.

Now I'm thinking, maybe I shouldn't have written this. I should have simply reached for the crayons. I just know I'd have felt better for it.

Friday, 9 March 2012

Like, yikes!

Drawing by Speckly Woo

For those of you who are not acquainted with Mystery, Inc, this representation of the irrepressible gang may mean little more than mystery ink. To all three granddaughters, these characters are real heroes, and I fear the only way back for me is to hold my nose and eagerly receive 'Scooby Snacks' whenever they're offered.

Even the twins - just shy of their third birthday - are verging on the fanatical, with their own take on the theme tune, which goes something like, "Scoo doo doo, haha hoo"...in a loop. So the loop becomes an earworm, or 'musical imagery repetition', as it's otherwise known. On occasion, the experience of reliving improvised scenes to said loop is a little like immersive theatre...but with an extra twist.

Thursday, 1 March 2012

Houston, we have a problem

When it comes to the sensation of open spaces, I'm happy to draw the limit at those within which I can move about freely, with my feet firmly on the ground. As a boy, I never seriously hankered after a ride in a spaceship, neither did I want a relationship with the stars, beyond gazing upwards from - you've guessed it - the spot of turf that gravity kept me in touch with. So, our day out was an exercise in limits of endurance. As part of an educational trip to a science park, we had admission to the planetarium. Nothing to fear, I thought. No chance of snagging my oxygen line, or being bombarded by streams of high-energy photons. No chance of my bodily fluids reaching boiling point, due to a massive drop in pressure.

Where I like to have my feet planted.

Inside the planetarium we took our semi-reclined seats and watched the ceiling change through all the colours of the rainbow, before a young woman briefed us on procedures. One of which was how to counteract the floating feeling we were likely to experience during 'immersive theatre'. Oh dear, I'm thinking, with all the reasonable anxiety of a person who has not long been through his own personal 'immersive theatre', otherwise known as labyrinthitis. The young woman advised us that we would return to earth safely if we closed our eyes, or looked down at our feet.

Then the lights when out, and then suddenly we're treated to a 360 degree view of an astronaut's internal workings, as he/she is launched into orbit. Nice. Next, was an explanation of how astronauts cope with zero gravity, in an aircraft know as the 'vomit comet'. Mmmm.

Does thermal imaging make me look big in this?

Sad to say, our journey to the stars ended rather abruptly, after we had all turned into green beings, and SW had assumed her own launching position, buried into her mum's bosom.

A view of my world, after 'immersive theatre'.

I feel we reached a certain level of astronautical competency in successfully exiting an unstable environment, in a state of disorientation. We eventually touched down in the vicinity of the tea-shop, no worse for wear.