Carreg Cennen Castle

In the days before the invention of the 'Popty Ping' (see previous post) the Welsh used to hang out in castles, or, when the English happened to build their own castles in Wales, the Welsh would hang out around these castles with large amounts of weaponry and menace. Today we visited Carreg Cennen Castle, dramatically set atop a crag at the western end of the Brecon Beacons National Park. We were driven there in style (and relative speed) by the lovely Ceri who we had met at St Mike's in Aberystwyth. Now I spent a significant proportion of my childhood drawing castles and imagining them garrisoned by warrior mice (long story) so the chance to wander through a real live ruined castle with its own cave underneath was very, very, very exciting.

[The walk to Carreg Cennen Castle]

[Anthea and Ceri hanging out in a window recess]

[Anthea remembers what it was like to be a high school teacher ... in case you can't quite make out the inscription, it reads 'latrine outlet']

[On the way down to the cave]

[Enjoying the view]

Self-proclaimed Filmer Holiday

Today was self-proclaimed 'National Filmer Day' (put it in your diaries now for next year) and to celebrate Anth and I took the train to see the sights of Machynlleth. Any usefully mediocre guidebook will indicate that there are numerous things to see there, including the building that housed the medieval Welsh hero Owain Glyndwr's parliament in 1404, the Welsh Museum of Modern Art, and just out of town, the Centre for Alternative Technology. Bron-yr-Aur cottage, just north of Machynlleth, is known as the place where Robert Plant and Jimmy Page (of Led Zeppelin fame) wrote a number of songs that ended up on Led Zeppelin III, including "Gallows Pole" and "That's the Way".

[Machynlleth station]

It was a little wet today which added to the atmosphere; it felt something like being in the Blue Mountains on a sharp April morning - with the mist rising out of the valleys - except here it was so intensely green, really greeny green, as if someone had gone to town with all the shades of green that are on offer in a pack of 72 Derwent colour pencils. Machynlleth itself was a little sleepy and we could rouse no one in the parliament building to open the door, despite the fact that someone must have put the advertising sandwich board out on the street to advertise that it was indeed open. At least we saved spending £1.50 each on what looked like a rather dodgy historical display.

We had more luck at the Centre for Alternative Technology which is a fascinating showcase of practical ecological solutions for everyday application. It's situated in a disused slate quarry and is reached via a water balanced cliff railway. The top car is filled with water - the bottom with people - and then gravity pulls the water-laden car down to the bottom, thereby lifting the people-laden car to the top! While the displays on home construction, energy conservation, waste disposal, composting and gardening were fascinating, the highlight for me was learning the Welsh term for microwave: 'Popty Ping'. I kid you not.

[Centre for Alternative Technology]

[Water-powered cliff railway]

[Anth among the flowers at CAT]

[The Cambrian, seen at Machynlleth station in the afternoon. Its presence exposed the suppressed steam fanatic in many seemingly innocent bystanders.]

Copenhagen capers

Well, I'm back from Copenhagen, having failed miserably in my attempt to decapitate the city's famous Little Mermaid. In fact, I didn't even get to see the Little Mermaid as it was a bit of a walk to get to reach her. What an anti-climax, eh? However, the conference was very worthwhile, featuring a number of interesting panel discussions, and I was also able to wander about the city and take in the sights, including a guided tour of the Danish parliament or Folketinget. (I'm developing a research interest in the performativities of parliament buildings.) This made up for my rather dreadful (budget-conscious) decision to stay in a hostel and share a room with nine strangers, at least one of whom inevitably suffered from severe sleep apnea. Here follows some photos, and in case you are wondering what Anthea was up to during all this, I have also included one from her too:

[Nynhavn canal]

[Bicycles: everyone cycles everywhere]

[Canal surrounding Christainsborg Slot - my hostel was in an adjacent square]

[Student accommodation University of Copenhagen-style]

[Did I mention that Chuck Norris was in Copenhagen too?]

[Anthea's photo en route to Devil's Bridge via steam train]

What a mess!

What a mess of a day! I'm glad it's over. I seemed to spread confusion and misinformation wherever I went and my desk has atrophied from a state of creative foment to an impenetrable mound of paper. Time for a break I think. Fortunately, tomorrow I'm off to Copenhagen where, under the guise of attending a conference, I shall attempt to decapitate the Little Mermaid statue for the third time since its unveiling. See here for a report of the last time this occurred.

[That's right sweetie, just look away while I reach for my hacksaw ...]

The Architecture of Creativity

While compiling readings for a new module called 'Improvisation: Spontaneous Performance', I've come across the work of Keith Sawyer. Apparently he's a professor of psychology and education in the US and "is one of the country’s leading scientific experts on creativity." (Why does he feel the need to describe himself as a 'scientific' expert?) Anyhow, he maintains a blog called Creativity and Innovation and has a website with links to some of his past papers on creativity, improvisation, development and collaboration.

He recently posted a blog entry on architecture, pondering the sort of building design that might enhance or facilitate creativity. (You can find it here.) It looks like this was sparked by the experience of having his university department move into a building that is rather bland and isolating, with rows of identical offices and featureless corridors.

I might stop here, for fear of incriminating myself ...

[A Creative Space?]

Working from home

I'm just working from home today; firstly, because I can; secondly, because it was raining; and, thirdly, because I felt I'd actually get more done sitting at this table, by the window, than in the office. I'm trying to write an article about space and subjectivity, arguing that the theatrical labour that occurs within the backstage spaces of theatres not only involves the making of theatrical performance but also the making of theatrical performers (specifically, 'professional' performers). Writing is always a laboured, drawn out affair. Today things seem to be working themselves out into an ordered form, but for the last week I've been comforting myself with Franz Kafka's observation: 'All things resist being written down'.

Beware the toad

[When walking or driving to Ynys-hir, beware the toad]

Prague ...

Here's some photos from our trip to Prague in June this year to meet up with Em and Chris.

[Anth in Cafe Gaspar Kaspar at the Prague Theatre Institute]

[Despite the persuasive advertising we didn't actually go in]

[Em can't keep a straight face]

[John Lennon Wall]

[An advertising billboard in Václavské náměstí: the play being touted is Our Country's Good by Timberlake Wertenbaker. It's based on Thomas Keneally's novel The Playmaker and deals with the first European theatre performance in Australia, a production of George Farquar's The Recruiting Officer in 1789]

Many faces of Anth and Aber ...

[April 2008 - AF]

[June 2008 - AF]

[July 2008 - AF]

I can see my house from here ...

I've been taking advantage of the launch of Google Street View in Australia on the 4th of August to re-visit places back home. This is, of course, a deliberately nostalgic undertaking. From across the other side of the world I can gaze upon my former house and 'walk' the streets of my old neighbourhood. It's all so familiar, and yet oddly disconcerting on at least two levels.

Firstly there is the strange disembodied mode of navigation; my body still holds the memory of walking these streets, of laboriously mowing the grass outside my house. I still retain a knowledge of which routes to take to get to other places, the various uneven patches of grass and pavement, and the peculiar smells encountered. But floating along on Google in fits and starts is so flat by comparison; the places depicted seem to have been dessicated. A mere photograph is static, and a video supplies its own movement, but Google Street View is a curious amalgam. The images are static but continuous and it is I who scroll through or along them. What do I get out of this, a dessicated partial-animation of a place once alive and lived?

The temporal dislocation is another disconcerting aspect. If I look at the image of my old house I can see that it was taken some time ago, when I was still living there. There are pot plants on the porch and I can see my filing cabinet through the front window. One of the windows is open. Maybe I was at home, inside, when the Google van recorded my street? But looking at the scene I can't get over the fact that this place no longer exists as it is depicted. Of course, this is like many of the photos I have with me of people and places, but these don't proport to the virtual timelessness that the Google images seem to offer. The Google images themselves are also dislocated because of the pasting of multiple static images into a continous image. The result is some disturbing representations of headless or malformed humans. Perhaps, as I scroll past, I could even recognise someone in the street who isn't alive any more.

How might a program like Google Street View change the way we relate to the places around us? Instead of seeing it as the loss of place, and a replacement for physical travel, I am reminded of Edward Casey's optimism that 'thinned out' or 'leveled out' places might intensify the desirability of actual places. "The more places are leveled down, the more - not the less - may selves be led to seek out thick places in which their own personal enrichment can flourish." (Between Geography and Philosophy: 685)

You meet really interesting people ...

Is this advertisement for Cardiff's buses meant to be funny? 'Late wife'?!

It's summer time in Aberystwyth...

It has been a while since my last post, and consequently there's probably no one out there in the blogosphere who even thinks of checking here for new posts. But the news is that Anth and I are now living and working in Aberystwyth (sometimes described as 'the Brighton of Wales', which is a bit better than the Lonely Planet's 'a faded Georgian seaside resort'). I have decided to revive this blog so as to post photos and observations from my new home on the west coast of Wales. The photos below are provided just to prove that we got a summer - it lasted all of three days.

[Aberystwyth Beach and Promenade - AF]

[South Beach, and yes, it is an Australian flag - AF]