The lass is back in town

Chimneys, chimneys... And more chimneys. Rigorously red.

Welcome to Jericho! It took me a while to come back to this blog - namely, it took me a busy month of September, a frantic month of October... And a too-fast-to-describe month of November, it seems. Also, moving to a new house with no internet connection (now solved, clearly) did not help. Yet one day - one sunny day, rare and precious! - I took some time off, brought my camera out for a stroll and explored a few streets here in Jericho. The result is in these photos - take a rest and enjoy the autumnal colours!

Close to St. Barnabas Church - I like the way this photo looks like it's B&W... Although it's not! Such a nice contrast of light and shade.

... Would you dare knocking on this door? Behave... Or beware. (*)

When I saw this wall and its bright, intense colours, I thought I had to grab my camera and come back to this spot!

The "Rickety Press" on Cranham Street around 3pm. "Cask ales, fine food" - what else should I say?

I like the way a few leaves stay on some trees (especially on sycamore trees, did you notice it?) - dots-dots-dots.

Ladies and gents, here is Wellington Square in all its glory!

(*) Do you know where the quote "Behave or beware" comes from? If yes, nothing to add - if not, here is the answer: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Nanny_mcphee.jpg. ;)

Intro - The Dowie Dens of Yarrow

Since I discovered the "English Folk Dance and Song Society" based at the Cecil Sharp House in Camden, London, I have thought of a reason good enough to take a chance and explore the resources of their fabulous library - the Vaughan Williams Memorial Library. Not that the librarians aren't friendly and open-minded - by contrast, I must thank Laura Smyth for being incredibly helpful and welcoming. No, the truth is: I couldn't spoil a visit to the library by asking "Can I have a look at Child's collection of British ballads?" - it's like going to a very prestigeous tea shop, famous for their peculiar blends; when asked "Would you like to have a free tasting of one of our products?" one answers "Sure, a cup of English Breakfast please!". I'm not saying that English Breakfast is a silly choice. Actually, it might even be the most intelligent move - English Breakfast is a benchmark when it comes to tea, isn't it? Then by sipping it one could immediately notice if the taste is different, and therefore appreciate any unexpected aroma... On the other hand, one does miss the opportunity to explore new territories, so to speak. I suppose one might try a braver strategy, such as "Thank you - I was wondering, would it be possible to try two blends?" - it may work, after all. Then one would... Wait a minute. How did I find myself writing about tea and free tastings?

I ended up spending about four hours in the Vaughan Williams Memorial Library (VWML): all of my readings and listenings were centred on one ballad, "The Dowie Dens of Yarrow". The line of thoughts that determined this choice was quite linear:

- isolating one song and checking different comments and annotations by various collectors/lyrics/recordings would give me the opportunity to appreciate the richness and vastity of the library resources while maintaining a clear direction of exploration.

- when I learn a new tune, I tend to refer to one, perhaps two versions of it that I like. What is worse, I then tend to sing it that way - with hardly any personal input on neither the lyrics nor the tune. I thus figured that one possible way out of this habit might be to go back to the roots of one specific song, so to say; reading books instead of liner notes (and information found on the internet) and listening to a number of versions (sometimes in the form of original field recordings - unpolished, not post-processed/post-produced and therefore amazing, most of the times!) may help me to finally come up with my rendition of the ballad.

- how to choose one song though? Recently I have been focussing on English tunes, so a Scottish ballad sounded like a good start. Also, I knew "The Dowie Dens of Yarrow" but never learnt it. After a few searches I discovered not only that it is a "border ballad", which is pretty much what I was looking for, but also that a few of the available recordings come from Scottish travellers, who together with Irish travellers share an absolutely fenomenal musical knowledge (and taste) that has always fascinated me.

I came back to Oxford with handwritten notes and tunes that I kept on humming for a few days (and which I recorded before they faded away) - soon to come is a new "FolkRec" post...

On the field #4 - The Science Museum in London

In June I spent one afternoon at the Science Museum in London, where - shame! - I had never been before. If I had to be concise, I would probably choose one adjective: fabulous.

... Of course, brevity is no familiar word of mine. :) A first look at the museum plan suggested me that I would need to select a few topics and focus on these, leaving the others for future day trips to the capital. I thus visited quite extensively the Mathematics section, looking with amazement at the beautifully crafted three-dimensional reproductions of solution curves for differential equations and staring at the zoo of polygons and solids that were discovered (and sometimes named, just like one would do with a child of their own!) in centuries of mathematical studies. I strolled around a couple of temporary installations, one of which I very much disliked, the other of which I quite enjoyed. Ah, art combined with science - often probabilistic in its outcome! :) On a general note, I did find the idea of having a permanent collection as well as a few sections that host temporary exhibitions on various topics an extremely clever way of structuring a museum...

... Which leads me to the main reason why I started this post in the first place. When I entered the museum, the first object that drew my attention was a poster advertising one of these temporary sections, in this case one that focussed on the life and legacy of Alan Turing (http://www.sciencemuseum.org.uk/visitmuseum/galleries/turing.aspx). If the name does not ring any bell, I will leave you to the reading of the Wikipedia article (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alan_Turing). If you do know a bit about Turing's contribution to mathematics, logic and computer science, then you probably won't be surprised to know that exploring the section one would be able to see a couple of Enigma machines and a reproduction of a computer designed by Turing himself when, well, a computer was everything but "personal" (in the early days, a "computer" was actually a human being - usually a woman - trained to compute specific calculations by typing on a machine very similar to the ones you would have written letters to your grandmother with), to mention a few items on display.

The real surprise came at the end of the exhibition: three very coloured, interactive machines had been brought there to get the so-called general public to familiarise with concepts such as looping. Such "key words" are well-known within the scientific community; they identify operations that are likely to appear as basic building blocks in many, many programming codes (irrespective of the specific language used). I must say that I voluntarily chose the looping example: I am an inexperienced programmer, and I still feel somehow uncomfortable every time I realise that I need to add a loop in a code. I thus decided to stop at the machine that stood there to give an insight into how looping instructions are written and executed: I was curious to see the way people would interact with it.

Let me try and describe the installation itself. Imagine a screen where specific areas (which are nothing but sets of pixels) have different colours: these coloured sections of the screen can be activated (and de-activated) depending on the instructions executed by the machine. This creates sequences of "coloured patches" that appear and disappear in cycles until one or more instructions change. This is because the lines of code that "tell the screen" "Now make the green pixels glow!" and so on are embedded in a loop, and are thus executed over and over (well... potentially - nothing lasts forever, I believe). Under the screen is a post where another screen is found: this one displays the actual code that is responsible for what happens on the glowing screen. It is also possible to see the circuit that physically implements the written programme. Finally, next to the screen showing the code there is a smaller screen that displays a few instructions that should allow visitors to understand how the machine works, and in turn make it possible to actively modify its glowing output.

I thus stand a few metres away from the installation: a first group of people arrives - good. They look like they are 25, maybe 30 years old; two men, two women. The latter somehow stay at a distance. Perhaps they are not interested, but maybe this is also because their male companions have quite naturally (and quickly) occupied the space in front of the screen: they are already interacting with the machine. What strikes me about the first bunch of groups that stop and spend some time in front of this looping machine is the following behaviour: they do look at the instructions that "translate" what the code does, but they rapidly start pressing the buttons that make it possible to modify the code - sometimes while they're still reading the instructions, and often in such a nervous way that makes me suspect that they're not really testing how this machine works. They play around. What is also interesting is that they seem to get bored quickly - many people extract a digital camera, take a picture of the coloured screen and then leave.

As for me, I had initially spent several minutes looking at the installation, and to be entirely honest, well, I am not sure I did understand how this is supposed to shine some light on how looping lines of code are implemented. Which is why I then decided to stay around, to see if I could feel less lost by watching other people dealing with the machine - someone could turn out to be a good demonstrator. Now, these first groups of visitors do not help at all: they're way too frantic, they touch every possible button and they don't seem to have any criteria driving their actions. Ah - now a man in his sixties comes around. He stares at the installation for a while. He looks at the glowing screen, then at the post with the two screens displaying the code and the instructions on how to operate the machine. Pause. He starts pressing a few buttons on the post - calmly but firmly, and constantly checking what the outcome of his actions is on the glowing screen: areas of different colours gently appear and disappear. Pause. He stares at the screen a little longer and he eventually leaves; I presume he is satisfied with the final result. Then I do realise - this man has just been my demonstrator! Now it all perfectly makes sense - easy. I am about to leave when something else happens: the post with the code and the instructions breaks - no instructions anymore. My reaction is immediate: too bad, now people won't stop as the machine cannot be operated in these conditions. Wrong. A couple (both in their mid-thirties, I would say) arrives and stares at the screens for a while: they do seem to get the general functioning, and after pressing a few buttons they leave. A few more people stop by: some of them look like they know what they're doing, some less - still they use the machine and produce coloured patterns on the glowing screen...

... Which is ultimately what happens when one switches on a laptop or a mobile phone: one does use them even without having a deep knowledge of the way they effectively work.

The code is there though.

>> _

Would it be possible to have a look around?

The title of this post is often my first line when visiting new places (including the ones I am not even sure I have access to) - usually it is useful it when, unavoidably, a porter of some kind appears, clearly eager to know the reason of my presence.

Here in Oxfordshire it turns out that it is possible to collect an astonishing number of different answers to this somewhat simple and harmless question - "I was wondering, is it possible to have a look around?". First, the sentence that leaves no alternative at all: "I am afraid not, miss". Fair enough - "private property" and "restricted access" - these expressions are part of our modern world... Whether one agrees or not. Then there are hybrid answers, with a range of relative intensities for the "yes" and "no" components: "Yes, it is possible to visit the premises - please go that way", or "Yes, the estate is open to visitors but I am afraid you can only access it on Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays from 10am to 5pm". Sometimes there is an interesting twist, an addendum to one of the above answers such as "... except for next Saturday, however, as the premises will be closed for a private event". Once again, fair enough.

To give a specific example, Oxford colleges can be quite puzzling; some of them seem as difficult to enter as a fortress. When one finally manages to go in, still one has to face the "Private" signs that appear here and there - sometimes closing the way to what look like the loveliest bits of the garden... Ah!

Besides the Oxonian collegiate system, a couple of recent episodes were the starting point for this post - I hope they may highlight less well-known sights of Oxford and its surroundings. About a month ago I was told that the Rhodes House, whose entrance is on Parks Road, can be visited quite easily if one shows a University Card (no great surprise here). Still its opening times are rather peculiar: Monday to Friday from 1pm until 4pm, if I remember rightly. A few days ago I took advantage of a sunny spell to have a quick lunch and then walk to the Rhodes House to have a look at the gardens, if possible. No problem at all - I showed my card and entered. A hint: have a look at the tapestry displayed in the corridor leading to the wooden door that gives access (finally!) to the garden: the drawing is by William Morris. :) I expected the gardens to be neat and flourishing, and so they are. There is nothing exceptionally distinctive about the Rhodes House, I would say; yet it is definitely worth a visit, if you chance to walk by it and are looking for a quiet and colourful place.

As I went back to the department after my short visit to the Rhodes House I glanced at the notice board of the Museum of Natural History. There was an advert which mentioned the Wytham Woods - I thought I had never heard of this place, and thus decided to find out more as soon as possible. So I did, and with great surprise I discovered that it is not possible to walk in and stroll around, as one would do when visiting the Botanic Garden or the Harcourt Arboretum. No - a permit is required. Precisely, a letter shall be sent to the conservator of Wytham Woods, if one has an interest in visiting the area. Which I did, of course - please refer to the photo above. In my life I have sent letters to relatives and friends the world over; I wrote to Santa Clause, to a couple of private companies and to a music band (well, I was sixteen...). Sending a letter to the conservator of an "area of ancient semi-natural woodland" in Oxfordshire is a completely different story!

A few links that might be of interest:

- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Morris - William Morris on Wikipedia ;)

- http://www.oum.ox.ac.uk/index.htm - Oxford University Museum of Natural History

- http://www.wytham.ox.ac.uk/index.php - Wytham Woods website

- http://wildcru.org/wytham/ - one of the first websites I found when I looked for information about the Wytham area

FolkRec - The Cuckoo

I have known this song for a while, and every time I sang it I either forgot a line, misplaced words, ... - all the kinds of mistakes one would really like not to make while singing, especially when it is not even the length of the song that may be responsible for poor concentration! In fact, I learnt the tune from a recording by Anne Briggs, but my version is much shorter. I decided to omit a few verses as I found them somehow "fake", as if they were added later yet hardly fit the opening lines... If you are curious to read about this song and have a look at the lyrics of some expanded versions, I think the best place is http://www.informatik.uni-hamburg.de/~zierke/shirley.collins/songs/thecuckoo.html.

Now, to check the above link I briefly skimmed through the webpage, and found the answer to a question I asked myself earlier today (well, yesterday, given the time), when I started a search that led me - by pure chance - to an interesting discovery.

Let me go back a few steps. Some days ago I wrote an email to a friend, and I happened to mention a round I learnt recently: "In summer the flowers wilt, the flowers wilt, the streams run dry, I pray for rain, pray for rain, I pray for rain"... A side note: I suggest you do not hum nor sing this until this endless sort-of-spring-with-bits-of-autumn goes away and lets us enjoy the summer. Apologies, I digress. I used the term "round" and - since this friend of mine knows Italian - improvised its translation as "filastrocca". Then I sent the email. Seconds after I asked myself: why didn't I check the meaning of the word "round" before attempting to translate it? [And also, why on earth do I keep on using English words of which I presume to know the definition?]

Hence I promptly looked for this word on Wikipedia: clearly, "round" does not mean "filastrocca". I believe it means "canone". Before the non-Italian speakers fall asleep, let me unveil why the reading of the article on rounds (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Round_(music)) proved to be interesting: the reason is that it cites the very first example - that arrived to us - of a round. Its title is "Sumer Is Icumen In": of course there is a Wikipedia entry on this ancient song too (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sumer_Is_Icumen_In). This article in turn reports the lyrics of the medieval round: the opening lines are (in Wessex dialect)

Sumer is icumen in

Lhude sing cuccu!

which mean (in modern English)

Summer has come in

Loudly sing cuckoo!

Then the song continues - roughly - with its description of the summer season. Still my attention had been caught by this reference to the cuckoo - is it me, or there is indeed a striking similarity between "The Cuckoo" that I have known for years and this very old round dating back to the thirteenth century? Yet why then none of the singers, collectors whose comments and notes I read seem to acknowledge the connection? I have listened to a few audio files and I must say, the melody of the round differs from the one I sing - but there exist many, many tunes to which "The Cuckoo" (or variations of this title) is sung. Hmm... The beauty of research. :)

Lastly, since I ended up spending some time reading about the round as a musical composition I came across this wee website: http://www-personal.umich.edu/~msmiller/rounds.html. Buon ascolto!

Flowchart #2 - I decide to write about writing

As you may have guessed from my previous post, I am quite fond of everything that is related to typefaces and letterforms - with a special interest in handwriting - both in their standard and more creative expressions.

When it comes to calligraphy, it turns out that there are a few websites one may be curious to explore: for instance,

- http://www.calligraphyonline.org/index.html -- click and learn about the "Society of Scribes and Illuminators"... With such a name for their society the website deserves at least a visit, don't you think?

- http://www.clas.co.uk/index.html -- a recent discovery, hence I cannot say much about it; their summer course looks interesting...

- http://www.freehandwriting.net/ -- probably one of the first websites I found out about; I have never met Monica Dengo, but I had a chance to attend a short workshop run by one of her students and thought it was brilliant! Also, at least one of Monica Dengo's classes takes place in Venice... Not a bad location, huh?

Some days ago I thought of a connection I hadn't considered before. Penmanship as it is presented in the few above-listed websites stems from a rather specific - almost élite? - point of view on the matter: here writing by hand is not seen as a necessary skill allowing to communicate and express oneself, but rather as a more abstract activity - where sometimes one may even wonder whether the aesthetics became more relevant than the content. Thus it presupposes, by definition, that one learnt how to write in the first place, from the alphabet up to entire sentences and paragraphs, distinguishing between upper, lower case letters and so on. Have you ever asked yourself this question: how did I learn to write? How long was this process, and what was the evolution of my handwriting up to its present form?

I then decided I would look into this matter. With a scientific approach, of course.

And eventually, I drew the flowchart that is shown below.

When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light...

This is Berlin - again! This time the photos shown here come from an entirely different source: they were taken at the Buchstaben Museum (http://www.buchstabenmuseum.de/), which is a tiny yet meaningful (and playful) display of... Neon lights - precisely. Except that the point is not their being glowing. The aim of the museum is to preserve and document letterforms, as written on their homepage, as well as to plan "events designed to develop an appreciation for typography and for the items on display".
What I found very interesting is the opportunity to see various "fonts" applied to specific, real-life examples (a fishmonger's shop, a café and so on), with styles and "tricks" that change in time: the three photos below, for instance, the light with the glowing "W" comes from the thirties or the forties, if I am not mistaken. I love the "r" and "t" in the first photo, the way they are linked - it is a very peculiar graphic solution; and I found the "G" in the third picture very smooth and... Gentle.

The remaining two photos were taken with a more "scientific" approach in mind: here one learns how it is actually possible to fabricate such neon lights... Or at least, how this was done up to the invention and success of LEDs, I suppose. It is then almost natural, I think, to realise that this museum and its collection are not only about aesthetics; there is a true interplay of art and science/technology. The perspective might thus change, as a particularly smooth and curly typeface is not only nice to look at, but also likely to have been quite a challenge to produce as the neon light that is displayed right in front of you. :)

I imagine that it did make sense to gradually switch to LEDs - perhaps we (as a civilisation) should even rethink critically this sort of "glittery and 'must be eye-catching' culture of signs and messages".
I believe it is important that places like the Buchstaben Museum exist, because they do act as a "memorandum" of a few examples of virtuous human creativity and ingeniosity, all of which are aspects to respect and treasure.

A note -- While I was visiting the museum I happened to glance at a pile of small leaflets, each one with a big green "M" on it - I took one with me, and discovered this website: http://www.motaitalic.com/. It is not a very easy task to define what "Mota Italic" truly is - it is a gallery/shop in Berlin, but I think it is fair to say that it is mainly a proper type foundry. This means that if you visit their website and fancy one of their typefaces, you can purchase them and start using them when you write a document on your laptop, for example. I then had a relatively extensive look at the website itself: one page that caught my attention was http://www.motaitalic.com/typefoundry/fonts/gemma/rotalics - do not get me wrong, I love standard italics, but this "rotalics" does look interesting, too!

A second note, as important as the first -- If you don't know (or forgot) where the title of this post comes from, I suggest you check this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BvsX03LOMhI. ;) [I am not entirely sure about all the words as they are shown in this video, but most of them seem right to me!]

On remembrance... And communication

In May I went to Berlin for a few days: I had a very pleasant time, and I thought I would now upload some photos that I took while exploring this lively city. Digital cameras are wonderful, but they do make it easy, far too easy to generate photos that rapidly add up to embarrassingly high numbers. For this reason, identifying a theme and selecting the few snapshots related to it seemed a quite reasonable strategy here. :)
The two pictures above show two memorials: the first one is found in the very central Bebelplatz and commemorates the - sadly famous - book burning ceremony that took place in 1933, while the second marks the spot where the body of Rosa Luxemburg was thrown into the Landwehr canal in 1919.
I have always thought that the choice of empty bookcases to remember a book burning episode is very meaningful. Absence is often regarded as a "lack of presence" and thus seen as a negative condition - yet an absence may be as significant as a presence, in a way which turns out to be much more intuitive than one may expect at first. A quote from Heinrich Heine is engraved next to the glass plate: "Where they burn books, they ultimately burn people".
Since I included a quote, why not add another one? This time it is by Rosa Luxemburg: "Freedom is always the freedom of the dissenter [the one who thinks differently]". The paragraph from which this sentence was taken can be found here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rosa_Luxemburg.

This collection of concrete slabs of variable height is known as the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. It was, and probably still is, a rather controversial project. I must say, I hesitated before I decided to visit it (also, I didn't go to the museum built - literally - under the memorial): even when I was there, surrounded by these grey blocks, my attention was mainly driven towards the construction itself - namely its spatial, geometrical features: light and shadow, uniformity, contrasts, loss of direction.

A memorial, whatever its form and nature may be, cannot provide a single, well-defined and universally (so to speak) accepted meaning: every individual will react differently to it and will be left with a handful of thoughts and impressions. As much as this may sound as an attempt to undermine the value of such monuments and sculptures, I believe it is not so.
Also, I think that an important aspect is their accessibility: anyone walking around Bebelplatz has a chance to see those white, empty shelves. I guess that a similar attempt to "bring a message to passers-by" has inspired science fairs and festivals organised in public squares, for instance: such initiatives are based on the line "If you don't come look for me, I will make myself almost impossible not to be noticed". The question is then: once you are indeed visible, will you be able to speak clearly, and will both parties understand each other? A sparkle that bursts communication is not overly complicated to generate. The point is: what follows the spark, and how?

FolkRec - Benjamin Bowmaneer

I utterly love this song - I learned it earlier this year and it quickly became one of my favourites. I probably enjoy singing it because of its structure: it is a proper story, although its meaning I find quite mysterious. I recently heard that it is supposed to be a sea shantie - this is what Mary Hampton said, at least. Interesting, I suppose - I recommend listening to her very peculiar version of this song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oZ1NTYegs8k.
What else? Oh, yes. This version of mine is a "take two": I originally sang it in a rather slow and mellow way, but then I thought: why not dare and change the tempo a bit? So off we go - armed with scissors and needles.
Last but not least, thank you to my mum for taking a photo of this wonderful tree during our exploration of Richmond Park.

Not all those who wander are lost

This sentence has been lingering in my mind for a while. It comes from the "Lord of The Rings" by J. R. R. Tolkien, if I am not mistaken - I haven't read the books yet, but I do know this one bit. I suppose it caught my attention when I read it recently - on an advert, sadly - because it does describe very well how events in life sometimes seem to link to one another and form an oddly shaped, complex and fragile chain where luck, initiative and curiosity all find their places and times to come into play.
For instance, one may go to a café (without having planned to) and discover that Mary Hampton is in town for a concert - then one walks to Cowley and discovers the "Old Boot Factory"... Which is indeed a factory, or well, was one and is now turned into a sort of post-industrial music hall.
Despite the cold and windy weather I thoroughly enjoyed the concert, and I was so fond of the music I heard that I eventually bought "Folly", the album that Mary Hampton and her Cotillion released last year.
A song, "No. 32", is based on a poem by Emily Dickinson that I found extremely beautiful:

I died for beauty but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.

He questioned softly why I failed,
"For beauty" I replied.
"And I for truth, the two are one;
We brethren are." He said.

And so kinsmen met a night
We talked between the rooms
Until the moss had reached our lips
And covered up our names.

An Oxford promenade

I finally managed to scan some photos that I took around town with my camera (yes, one that works with films!) between June and September 2011. Some of them show bits of the city that are now undergoing major changes, which is why I thought it may be interesting to upload them on the blog. :)

One comment: I am not at all sure that the word "promenade" in English can be used in this context - probably not. ;) Here is the trick though: I am referring to the French noun, that indeed means "walk". Languages are amazing.

... Believe it or not.

The British... and milk.

Such a friendly and welcoming (literally!) mural...

I hesitated with this photo - I thought, perhaps I wound't fancy having my children photographed and then appearing online if I were their parents. I hope I didn't make the wrong choice.

Random links

If you have one minute of free time, go to http://www.thetravellingbarn.co.uk/

All right, the website is clearly under construction, but one question arises naturally: what are these people doing, and what is their aim?

Let us consider the known data: "build a barn", "the vision", "hire us" (menu bar). My personal (partial) conclusion was the following: these folks have some experience in wood carving and construction, and they will build a barn with a given shape and size. Then they will "put themselves on the market", so that if someone desires to get a barn for a festival, for a wedding... or just because they got bored with their 8th floor flat with a wee view on a tube station, well, there you go, call "The Travelling Barn"!

Now, what do you think? Posts most welcome. :)
For something completely different, I went bookshopping today and saw a couple of books about clouds. Hmm, interesting, I thought. I thus discovered the "Cloud Appreciation Society": http://cloudappreciationsociety.org/
Oddly interesting.

FolkRec - My Donald

This song is quite special to me. I learnt it about three years ago from a record by the Unthanks; I remember that I instantly loved the tune, but I quickly felt that I wouldn't have been able to sing it that way. For this reason this is the first song that I worked on "to make it my own", so to speak, instead of "just learning it properly" (I do love quotation marks, yes). The singing is not as accurate as I normally like it to be, but I've been tweaking this tune for such a long time - sometimes I would focus on the technique, some other times I would worry about how to tell this story so that it would actually mean something. I recorded this 2012 version at night, sitting in my room and trying to sing very quietly not to wake up anyone, so... Take it as a field recording, if you can. :) As usual, feedback and comments are most welcome! Last but not least, apologies for taking me so long to finally add some more music to the blog - I guess I was too busy going around bluebell woods, you see... ;)

On the field #3 - The Harcourt Arboretum

Since I suspect it may be difficult to read what is written on the white board in the photo above, let me add a brief introduction to this post: I took this picture during a recent visit to the "Harcourt Arboretum", which is, as the website explains, "an integral part of the plant collection of the [University of Oxford] Botanic Garden" (http://www.botanic-garden.ox.ac.uk/Harcourt/obg-harcourt-intro.html).

Flowers on an ash tree.

This magnificent estate is located South of Oxford in a small town called Nuneham Courteney; according to the guide who took us around it extends over around 130 acres - about 53 hectares, if you prefer these units. I arrived there at 6pm, and before spotting the white board I had an unexpected and relatively close encounter with a colourful peacock. During the walk we also chanced to see rabbits and deer. This was all very interesting but, needless to say, trees are the true attraction. There are oaks that are thought to be around 300 years old; beautiful ash trees, rowan and hazel trees, cherry and apple trees as well as holly bushes and nettles. Ah! I found out that the latter are delicious food for caterpillars and thus a promising sign towards a season rich in butterflies, too. :)

And then there is the "Bluebell Wood" - words fail me here, to be honest. The wood itself is somptuous; bluebells make it look almost eerie.
I suggest checking the website for a complete list of seminars, walks and workshops that take place both on the main site (on the High Street, just opposite to Magdalen College) and in Nuneham Courteney throughout the year. It is worth it!

Riflessioni e ricordi

I took this picture in 2010 at the "Operngasse" tube station, Vienna.
For more input on pi, I personally find the Wikipedia article (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pi) on this enticing irrational number extremely well done - particularly, the right-hand menu comprises a wonderful animation (much clearer than so many words!) as well as a link to the whole list of Wikipedia entries related to pi. Among these, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chronology_of_computation_of_%CF%80 is quite impressive, I think. :)

On the field #2 - Recent discoveries

Did you know that Oxford has a "Story Museum"? If yes, well done. :) If not, you may wish to check this link: http://www.storymuseum.org.uk/the-story-museum. I took this photo a few days ago - I guess I was enticed by the poster, which has a picture of a window on it, and which happened to be visible from a window, too. A window through a window. Hehe.

There is a small problem though: clearly, the website is a bit out of date. Now, I can confirm that the museum is still not open to the public (I went there thinking that it would be ready and running - not really), but it looked like there will be an exhibition in May. So it may be worth heading to Pembroke Street to have a look - a suggestion. ;) There is an undeniable relevance - and art - in telling stories, and collections of such pieces of wit and creativity - every human population has one, I believe - should be taken care of. I particularly liked this Siberian proverb that is quoted on the website: "If you don't know the trees you may be lost in the forest, but if you don't know the stories you may be lost in life." Comme quoi...

On a different - but rather related, actually - note, if you happen to be in Bloomsbury, London and have some spare time, I would suggest you to visit the Foundling Museum (previously known as the Foundling Hospital): as advertised on their website, it is "Britain's first home for abandoned children and London's first public art gallery" - http://www.foundlingmuseum.org.uk/. I came to know it in the occasion of a specific event: http://www.foundlingmuseum.org.uk/events/view/back-to-front-weekend-by-yinka-shonibare/. It was with great pleasure that I discovered this tiny museum and its incredible collection of memories, tokens and more.

I found a scanner... And other thoughts

First of all, good news: I have updated the image of the flowchart appearing in the previous post and it now looks much better! Victoire. :)

Today morning I found myself thinking about a topic that I've had in my mind for a while. I recognise two aspects to it: one is the "buy three and pay for two" kind of deal that is so popular here in the UK. The other involves "membership/priority/club/whatever-suggests-an-affiliation-with-benefits cards". I guess I could engage a lenghty discussion on both aspects, but I think I'll limit myself to a rather concise comment on the second one, at least for the time being.

When it comes to club cards, the choice is fairly binary: you either decide to get one or say "No, thank you" instead. Clearly both choices are pretty much reversible, but let's not think about this - let's say you've made up your mind. What I then find interesting is the following observation: both choices affect your actions as a customer, the difference being in the way they do so. If you've got a club card, you'll be likely to become a quite regular customer - that's what these cards are made for, aren't they? This is a rather clear influence on your daily/weekly life. Now let's suppose you haven't got a club card: then what happens is that you may feel you've got more freedom of choice - and you're right, in a way. So you'll go wherever is more convenient depending on your actual needs, thinking that there is no bias in your choice because you don't own any membership card. Yet it may also happen that, after a while, you realise that you do go to that same place over and over anyway, which means that you could have benefited from getting such a card. Hmm. What do you do then? You may finally change your mind and become part of the club, so to say. Or you may resist. But why would you do so? Just as a general protest against consumerism? Fair enough. Sometimes you'll maybe feel like you're losing the opportunity to get a deal and spare a little money, but at least you won't have given up on your position. Ultimately, I guess that my point goes back to the beginning of the paragraph: yes and no are indeed different answers, but both of them will change your perception of that environment. Thus the issue is in the initial question to the customer: I know this may sound a bit over the top, but it just appears as though the offer of a club card is, in a way,  an invasive action as it effectively influences individual behaviour. Where does this lead then? Perhaps to this: no matter what choice you make - keep thinking with your mind and, if necessary, well... Disobey. [Please note that the photo above is not mine - I found it on the Guardian website. If you don't know where the mask comes from, you may wish to check this link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/V_for_Vendetta_(film)]

On a rather different note, I was coming back home tonight when I noticed a whole heap of Harley-Davidson motorbikes neatly parked on a significant portion of sidewalk. The scene in itself wasn't particularly eye-catching, but as I walked through this metallic assembly I felt a wave of heat coming from the vehicles and heard tickling and cracking sounds from the motors that were, I presume, still cooling down - the metal slowly readjusting its structure to the new temperature conditions. Cool. Immediately after this post-industrial observation I wondered whether I would have heard the bikers leaving whichever place they were at on that street. The answer came half an hour later - and it was yes, indeed you can. Rrrrroaaarrrrr. My reply, well, I guess it is contained in the photo shown below (which I took in Vienna). :)

Flowchart #1 - How I read a book

I thought I would start this post with an enthusiastic "What an amazing spring day today!", but then I realised that it is actually past midnight, so that "today" is now "yesterday" - what an amazing Friday! :) I spent one hour in the University Parks and it just felt like spring - I do love this season.
While I was coming back from the parks I chanced to witness quite an interesting - as much as spontaneous - choreography on Walton Street: a man, probably a dad, was carrying two very young girls, maybe his daughters, respectively on his back and in his arms. In turn, the girls were contributing to this titanic effort by holding each other's hands - impressive!
Also, earlier this week I went to the Jericho Café and wrote the first of what I hope will become a somehow regular entry of this blog - a variation on the theme of... flowcharts. The first attempt is thus shown below: apologies for the poor quality of the image, this will be easily improved as soon as I find a way to scan the page properly!

One of the reasons why I like the Jericho Café is that they seem to choose music that I fancy: indeed, yesterday I was extremely lucky and listened to a very good selection of songs by both John Lennon and the Beatles - greatest tune, their version of "Twist and Shout".
Enough for today - more music (and drawings with better quality) coming soon!

Unexpected events

Happy St Patrick's Day! I am not sure I want to go to the pub tonight - I like to talk to people, and being forced to shout at them because the place is so crowded that there is a "wall of noise" hardly bearable may not be my cup of tea. This said, yesterday evening I went to the Folk Club on Abingdon Road; it was a lovely evening, and part of my way of celebrating St Patrick's Day!

Yesterday I also bumped into a very interesting series of YouTube videos. Initially I was driven to the first one because of this odd title: "Tiny Desk Concert"... I started with Gillian Welch and David Rawlings, and ended up listening to about ten of these short concerts all set in the same place - an office. Brilliant! I am so glad I discovered this new source of interesting music. For this reason I prompty added the corresponding "official" website of the radio station (NPR) among the few ones listed in the side menu bar. :)

On a different note, today I went for a walk with my camera and ended up birdwatching: I spotted a wee tit (great tit or blue tit? Not sure...) on a beautiful almond tree (prunus dulcis). Who knows if one of the many attempts to take a picture of it was successful?

FolkRec - Maa Bonny Lad

Guess what? Another song I learnt from Anne Briggs! Before you formulate this thought - yes, this is becoming dangerously repetitive, which is why I promise that the next songs to appear on this blog will show some more input from myself, so to speak... I guess that the thing is: it took me quite some time to actually realise that folk songs do not have to stay the same "because it's the tradition" - one should sing them so as to reproduce how one feels about these stories. This time the recording is from May 2010. :)

FolkRec - The Recruited Collier

Together with "Let No Man Steal Your Thyme", another song I generally feel quite comfortable with. This recording also dates from April 2009 - and once more, I must thank Anne Briggs for such an intense version!

FolkRec - Let No Man Steal Your Thyme

... Oh yes, two videos in a row! Well, I thought that a full song would be more interesting than a sequence of nonsense French words.
Please note: I apologise for the first 20 seconds which are, well, blank -  I was looking for the right pitch... !

The photo is a very recent one - thanks to my friend Paola who took it less than one week ago while we were walking around Hampstead Heath, London. The song is a traditional British tune - I sing a version of it that I learnt from an early recording by Anne Briggs, probably one of my favourite folk singers (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anne_Briggs). I guess I particularly like this song (and this version) because of the melody, clearly, but also because of its "conciseness", if you will: a few metaphors explain in a pictorial way a couple of rather basic concepts related to human behaviour (whether one agrees or not is an entirely different matter). Now that I think of it, this might almost be taken as a definition of folk music... ? Anyway, I recorded this version of "Let No Man Steal Your Thyme" in 2009.

Look up... And listen

This is my first video with audio - wooow! Although it's a tiny achievement, I am pretty satisfied with the outcome. I took the black and white picture in 2007, while I was visiting my best friend who lived in Ireland at the time. That day we went for a beautiful trip to Glendalough, a site I would recommend for a visit if you happen to be around Dublin (http://www.megalithicireland.com/Glendalough%20Monastic.html). So... Thanks to Lucia and Paul for being my very professional guides. :) The audio comes from a sort-of-experimental recording I made in April 2011 - I was playing around with my bunch of magnet words (French edition!) and came up with this combination of "mots" which I quite liked. Don't ask why, please.

On the field #1 - A performance in central Oxford

Today after lunch I went to Broad Street to have a look at a performance I had read about on the very nice website of Modern Art Oxford - "Musica Practica". For some more official information I would redirect you here: http://www.modernartoxford.org.uk/whats-on/musica-practica/about/

Here are a few photos I took at the beginning of the performance. I must admit, I was probably more interested in how passers-by would react to this unusual presence than in the performance itself. This said, it was fascinating to see how the conductor moved his arms and hands (and sometimes his entire body) - I have always thought that these are very graceful movements. I stayed around for half an hour and saw tourists taking photos as well as "locals" (what does this really mean in a town where there are so many students arriving from almost every part of the planet?) acting as if nothing was happening. Suddenly a man wearing a white shirt stepped in, clearly trying to establish a dialogue with the performer. I suspect that this person is the artist and writer who is mentioned on the website (see above); I am not entirely sure that his entrance was an advisable move. Then I took this photo with the two of them, conductor and spectator (or second performer?), and when I looked again at the picture (here the third one) I thought: this is pretty much how any form of communication or attempt for popularisation of a given topic works. Often the "expert" may be regarded as someone standing on a pedestal - therefore difficult to interact with.

 

Yet here comes a "translator", here represented by the man wearing the white shirt: I can imagine he stepped in to make the meaning of the performance clearer (he would pass in front of the conductor intentionally varying the pace of his walk) and show that communication is possible and successful. "If I open a channel with the conductor then these people who keep on staring at him - without even approaching sometimes - may also start trying to query and engage with the performer."

Of course there is no guarantee of success, just like when one learns a new language; when one attempts at testing their knowledge by interacting with native speakers the comunication may be difficult and at times not very satisfactory. Still it would be such a pity not to try!

Manifesto?

"Et dans dix ans je m'en irai dis au pied d'un rosier, au pied d'une rose

Au pied d'un rosier, mon cœur s'y repose..."

Tri Yann

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vyHjhUSaSPM 

I do not like the Google empire very much. Yet here I am - with more to come. Why? Because coherence is good, but there is no need to be a monolithic rock. :)