All Fired Up

First of all, thanks to Anon for your background on the Fashion Show (once again Blogger is not allowing me to respond to your comment directly for some reason). I look forward to hearing your thoughts on the Richmond Park dog's appearance at The Cornerhouse!

Readers of this blog will, I trust, be aware by now that I am not prone to attacks of hyperbole. But at Stonehenge on Wednesday night, it was a privilege to be part of a truly historic event. Images of ‘Fire Garden’ by the French troupe, Compagnie Carabosse, have been well disseminated already by the media, so you probably don’t need a blow-by-blow account of what it was all about. But for the first time in many a year (outside of the organised "Stone Access" visits), one could wander inside the circle, rather than be restricted to the perimeter path, with only two small areas of fallen stones roped off. (Despite this, Mrs Weekender managed to bash her leg on one. But in the spirit of the Cultural Olympiad, we won’t sue. Unless we can blame McDonald’s, that is...)

In amongst the stones were what can only be described as huge vests, suspended from poles with a candle inside each. The symbolism of this passed me by, but the images were startling. Outside the circle sat various vaguely industrial fire machines, spouting out flame and sparks, along with braziers, kinetic sculptures (the shadows of which were thrown against the stones) and huge globes of fire, flames fizzing from flower pots attached to their frames. There was also live music – a one-man band producing a completely appropriate, melancholy sort of world fusion.  It was quite, quite, magical – not in a fairies-dancing-in-a-ring kind of way, but lo-tech, rusty, slightly dangerous... and thrilling. 


Hats off to London 2012 for commissioning this.

Coming next – back at the Frome Fest, Ian McMillan at Rook Lane.

The Mystery of the Stones

Every time we drive to and from our adopted home, we pass Stonehenge.  Whatever the time of day, week or year, there is a constant stream of pilgrims circling the stones, paying homage. For us it has a particular, if somewhat trivial, meaning - it signifies that we are well over half-way to Frome, and the change in landscape as we climb up from Amesbury lifts the soul. But why do people travel from all over the country (and all over the world) to see a a collection of rocks in a Wiltshire field? Is it simply their age - the fact that they are still here at all? Is it the myths and legends that are attached to the place? Or is it because it's a World Heritage Site and must simply be ticked off from the list of X Hundred Things To Do Before You Die?

A heap of stones in Wiltshire

In the 1990s, you might recall there was a quite a craze for "spiritual" music - Gorecki, Tavener et al. Aided and abetted by some canny marketing, people who wouldn't usually touch contemporary classical music with their neighbour's bargepoles, snapped up works like 'The Symphony of Sorrowful Songs' and 'The Protecting Veil'. The feeling was that traditional religion was not fulfilling the need we have for something beyond this temporal being, and that this music filled the vacuum.

I wonder if a visit to Stonehenge likewise - knowingly or unknowingly - somehow connects people to an other-worldly past, plugging a gap in our predominantly secular 21st Century lives. The same coach parties might go on to Salisbury Cathedral or Bath Abbey. Are they all connected?

http://www.english-heritage.org.uk/daysout/properties/stonehenge

PS. Am going to try and get to this - spiritual void or no spiritual void:  http://www.salisburyfestival.co.uk/cms/site/news/the-festival-presents-fire-garden-at-stonehenge-for-the-london-2012-festival.aspx