Heart of an Oak

 This enchanting documentary, courtesy of Laurent Charbonnier and Michel Seydoux, charts one year in the life of an oak somewhere in France. There is no narration and no subtitles, making it a viewing experience that depends on attention to detail and enjoyment of the soundtrack. There is occasional music,  some of it jarringly intrusive. 

But mostly Heart of an Oak is about the creatures that call this mighty ancient tree their home, the red squirrel that has made a nest on an extended branch, the boar and dree that come to graze, the insects that are hatched, grow up and die under its gaze, and the birds that come and go as they please. 

The four seasons are the structure for the film, with summer explosions of colour leading into the more withdrawn seasons of autumn and winter and ending with the return of flowers and leaves in spring. It is gorgeously shot and one does wonder at the technical wizardry that allows viewers to watch mice traversing their tunnels underground, as well as an acorn growing and sending up shoots. CGI may well play a part. 

The drama comes from encounters between frogs and weevils, predatory birds stalking their prey and the ingenious squirrel evading both snake and birds. Human beings are notably absent. Hurrah. 

This is nature taking centre stage and showing off its gifts, among them the humble acorn growing into a sapling next to its progenitor. 

Heart of an Oak is released on Icon Film Channel on 10 June. 

In Bloom

I don't have too many details yet, but my film In Bloom, which played last week in London, will be showing in Basel next week as part of the Liste 17 art fair. Very exciting. Wish I could be there.

But, alas, I shall be in rainy-sunny-rainy-can't-make-up-its-mind London, where we are seeing a marvellous outbreak of roses. Here is a selection from my travels.

8 June edit: Ah, now the film isn't showing next week, but it will show at the same gallery sometime this summer. Will update when I know.

How does your garden grow?

Last night was the opening night of Bildwechsel's touring Garden programme, which featured the world premiere of my film, In Bloom. I had a little nostalgia walk as I headed over to Four Corners for the screening, noting which shopfronts had appeared since my last visit a few years before. At least the chippy is still in business.

On arriving at the venue to hand over my freshly burned copy of the film, I spotted a familiar face, that of Bildwechsel head Chris Regn, whom I'd met in Berlin in 2009. Since all my correspondence had been with Kate Henderson of Bildwechsel Glasgow, I hadn't realised that the various outposts were linking up for the programme, a pleasant surprise, and later I got reacquainted with Eva Kiezmann of Bildwechsel Berlin.

My film was on first, so I had none of the anticipatory nerves of last week. Instead I was the mystery starter for the wide-ranging programme, which featured entries from Canada and Germany, as well as the UK, in response to the call for submissions. I took no notes (for once!), but I particularly liked Gillian Steel's animation, as well as Lamathilde's multi-part piece. It was also bittersweet to see a film on the late, lamented Rosa Rose garden (now replanted elsewhere) bringing a little piece of grassroots Friedrichshain to East London.

What was also exciting for me was to chat to Super 8 experimentalist Bev Zalcock, the other attending filmmaker. I have only done one Super 8 film, and so it was great to chat to her about her practice making these films the hand-crafted way, adding dyes and so forth. Plus, she said she liked my film, and so I was chuffed.

Winter Duet

Traipsing around south London on the coldest day of the year, I interrupted the animated conversation of these two, as they admired the clear blue sky and wondered where the warmth went.

Coming soon to a pie near you

This intriguing specimen is a pumpkin, a Chinese pumpkin grown in Maldon, Essex, to be precise. I acquired it yesterday after fruitless weeks of searching for a pumpkin for my yearly excursion into pumpkin pie, which I guess is my reminder to self that I'm American by birth.

Anyway, the market trader assured me its sweetness is unsurpassed and it should keep for two months! The day of reckoning is next Wednesday. I hope what it lacks in aesthetic appeal it will make up for in flavour.

Raw materials

Everything in its time

Ballad of the bad muffins

This being blackberry time, I trudged up to my favourite patch and collected the first pickings of the season. I only got 1/2 kg, but it was enough for a yummy smoothie and some pancakes, so I checked back three days later and was able to gather 1 kg, with minimal blood lost (a snagged trouser leg).

It wasn't enough to bother with freezing, so I pondered how to put the haul to good use and decided on muffins. Now, my last few batches have been a bit hit-and-miss. I made some pretty awful oily corn muffins some weeks back, but the next batch was tasty.

Fresh blackberry muffins! In the oven they went and I settled down with a paper. And forgot them for a bit. When I took them out, they looked a little browner than optimum. But, they had risen nicely and I could see the blackberries peeping through. I lifted one out, made some tea and took a bite.

It was foul. Wow. Really bad. Maybe excess heat or excess baking soda was to blame. The texture was moist and there was plenty of blackberry, but the thing was barely edible. How could muffins that looked so yummy be that bad? Never mind. I can't bear food being wasted. I made myself eat it, washed down with copious amounts of tea. I shall now apportion one bad muffin a day until they are all done. And enjoy the smoothies.

The GBS comes to LDN

If only summertime were always like this--blue skies, sun-kissed gardens, roses abloom. A great day for washing the cat, admiring the views, etc.

First Snowfall

How surprised was I to awake this morning to find snow falling! Though I knew Scotland has been deluged since the weekend, I didn't think it would make it this far south. Cue frantic scrabbling for winter boots. Perhaps it is time to put the bulbs out for their ever-so-brief yearly appearance.

Some things never change: while the roads were perfectly clear, the pavements were slippy and slushy. Last winter I took to walking down the middle of the road to avoid ice. Once I was even called upon to rescue an elderly woman. No sign of snow-bound pedestrians yet. But, it's only November.

Recycled Words

Just back from a brief road trip on the boneshaker, testing out if I can still ride the thing. I picked a good day--sunny, mild, a gentle breeze and very impressive foliage changes taking place. I also diced with death, ducking under the 5 foot head railway bridge on Coppermill Lane. Definitely this should be entered as an Olympic sport. Imminent decapitation would add an element of thrill-seeking to the cycling events. Now weak at the knees and in need of a soak.

Oh, tomorrow is the 82nd anniversary of the publication of Virginia Woolf's novel, Orlando, which I celebrated in my radio show this week. In the course of my research, I found some archive audio of her speaking about words. I might not chosen some of her Victorian-era language, but her thoughts are fascinating.

Flying Squirrel

Back in London on a busy Saturday afternoon, catching up on errands, I spot a rather panicked squirrel dodging traffic in a busy high street. Concerned, I watch its progress until it disappears behind a wall. "Mum! A squirrel!" pipes up a small boy ahead of me. The squirrel has now raced up the cement railing of a staircase of a block of flats.

Realising it is no closer to safety, it turns 90 degrees and, before my wondering eyes, makes a flying leap off the staircase, landing on the concrete of the front yard. It must be 3m high and a distance of 4m. Ouch. More to-ing and fro-ing before it returns to the relative shelter of the small shrublike tree of a side road.

Looking about, I realise how few tall trees are in this street. But, another five minutes' (human) walk takes me to a beautiful expansive tree, bursting with branches and shade. Squirrel Paradise.

Walking is good for you...

Spent a good three hours walking from Tottenham Hale to Lea Bridge Road along the Lea (or Lee) River, with a brief detour to Springfield Park for a cuppa (but the care was not yet open), back to the river, through marshes, past posing heron, following the trail of assorted geese and discarded footballs (an England one was going in circles, much like the team) and then had a cursory picnic at the standing stones of the Middlesex Filter Beds. Felt marvellously invigorated. Then slept for three hours. Now off to find something cultural to see, as this is an arts blog.

Early Riser

Up ridiculously today, owing to insomnia. Pottering about at 03:12, I took a peek toward the north, in hopes of spotting Aurora Borealis, visible because of solar storms. No such luck. Would have been a marvellous birthday present.

That's twice I have missed out. I actually visited Reykjavik a few years ago mainly to see the Northern Lights but fell foul of overcast conditions. This morning in London the stars were twinkling, the rain had moved off, but... no lights, except for human-made ones. Ah, well. Since I'm up, may as well start the day.

Making Berry

I tried to think of a more clever pun for the title, honestly I did. Anyway, just back from a glorious hour in the forest picking blackberries. Surprisingly, it's still early in the season and most are not yet ripe. The gnats were out in force, thanks to yesterday's rain. Nevertheless, I persevered and returned with two yoghurt pots' full--that's 2 kg. More than enough for a week's worth of smoothies and a decent crumble. Unless I put one pot in the freezer for the winter.

It's only recently, rather late in life, that I have discovered the joy of berrying in the summer, having moved to a flat near a forest some four years ago. With nothing else to do in the area, I took to wandering the forest, glorying in nature and discovering that some of those things growing were actually edible! Imagine. At the time, I could jump up of a morning and, still in my pyjamas, dash out for a quick forage to get enough berries for a smoothie. A reminder that city life isn't all technology and hustle bustle. Lovely.

Now, living a bit farther away, it's more of an effort, but I do try to get out there once a week, sometimes combined with some softball or a kickabout. Today, though, it was all about the berries. Previous trips have involved quite a bit of bloodshed, as those thorns are hazardous, but today the toll was merely a few scratches. Now I just have to sort the b____rs.