You can lose yourself in one of the great, late Rembrandt self-portraits for an hour, and wake as if from a dream. But it is curious, to me, how a voice can feather you with goosebumps or lay you low within a bar or two, bring you to near to, or, to tears. Short arc [...]
READ MOREApril, 2012
Robert Dessaix: In praise of idleness. Like a dog. But not a cat.
‘Robert Dessaix’, the performance The other night at the Wheeler Centre, where I seemed to have camped out lately, we saw the celebrated writer Robert Dessaix take the stage for one of his brilliantly sly and penetrating performances. By penetrating I mean how he seems to cut into the moment — loosing the sap? the [...]
READ MOREWhat’s the right number?
The writer Robert Dessaix (on whom I’ll post tomorrow) says that mindfulness is a kind of attentive tranquillity. Like a dog [has]. (But not a cat.) In that spirit these tiny scraps of driftwood on the shore of dailyness. The phone rings. Hello. Do you sell the calendula? (It’s an old woman. How can I [...]
READ MORE
