Happy St Andrews
It’s been a travel-heavy last few months. I am typing this in Brittany, my last excursion for a while, and one that doesn’t feel like an excursion, since it’s home really. It’s funny to even try and think of Brittany as foreign when my car knows the road so much better than anywhere else on earth. Even while being here, I feel home in other ways, both thanks to internet which tethers me to the rest of the world, and through the many paintings and books crowding the walls.
The painting that I’ve most noticed this week depicts my Scottish grandmother, who is at the heart of my collection and show The Shipwrecked House. It’s by another Scottish artist, Alexander Goudie, an old family friend. I’m pressing upon the nationality of both because a return to Scotland is on the horizon: The Shipwrecked House will be travelling to Scotland on 6th March as part of the StAnza Festival. This will be its last airing, as far as I know, and it feels fitting that it should be there.
Scotland has been on my mind too because I’ve been hanging out with the local dolmens a fair amount this week, an obsession I can trace back to my visit to the isle of Arran and its Machrie Moor last month. I’m somewhat unexpectedly getting a few poems out of them. The sites visited here are those of Quélarn and Kervadol.
I’m looking forward to staying put for a little while, though it has been a great adventure. I never wrote a report of my time in New York earlier this month, but I am deeply appreciative to my poetic hosts: the Saturn Reading Series, the WORD bookstore in Brooklyn, and Red Lantern Bicycles. I’ve met some fantastic authors through it, Pamela Grossman, Anja Konig, Aimee Herman, Jenna Leigh Evans, and many more. I’d been warned of American friendliness, and wasn’t disappointed.
If you’re interested in hearing about tour-life, I wrote a blog the experience here.
I'll leave you with a picture of the park behind the theatre Le Triskell in Pont l'Abbé, which I mention in my show, and a rather dashing seagull in Lesconil: