Good Thinking

What’s good thinking? Is someone who has read lots going to have better thoughts about the Horniman Museum than me?

I went there yesterday with the friend who’d shown me the Flat Stanley story. We plan to take the rest of our MA class there for a reading/writing group next week. We spent the afternoon looking at the displays and talking about the texts we plan to distribute beforehand, and devising writing activities that sit between the texts, the museum, and the specific interest we have in putting them together.

Can you see me now?

Yesterday I booked tickets to Liverpool for the weekend, where I’m going to record sound and draw maps for There In Time, the Bridewell Gallery’s contribution to the Biennial Independents strand. My original idea for the artwork has moved on a lot since I originally discussed the show with Jo the curator, and it feels like the amount of change has been increasing exponentially as the install date approaches.

Woods

The other weekend I went home to Folly Lodge and since then I’ve written this.

Songs my father taught me:

One more step along the world I go,
One more step along the world I go,
From the old things to the new,
Keep me travelling along with you.

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My exceedingly old father is an architect, and built our house from two smaller houses that were there before, and a lawn that has gone to moss by now. He emails me now, now and then, and I try to visit when I can. I love him very much. To the west of the garden, which is open and edged by woods, is an open pathway that marks the boundary of our property. Past the pathway are other, separate woods, and last April I stood among their novel roots.

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The boundary path had never been hidden and had

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