Steve Bucknell's photos

Gale warning - issued: 09:45 on Thu 24 Jan 2019 UTC Southerly gale force 8 expected later Wind In west, southwesterly 3 or 4, backing southerly 5 to 7. In east, southerly 5 to 7, occasionally 4 at first, increasing gale 8, perhaps severe gale 9 later. Sea state Moderate or rough. Weather Wintry showers, rain later. Visibility Good, becoming poor later.

“One of these days the future will be here, and you won't be ready for it.” ― Paul Bowles, The Spider's House

in interglacial Holocene this artifact essentially one flattened Coke can passport greetings Valentine’s card encoding crucial steel informations canefructose enhanced instruction light alloy mortal metal remainders shrunken tin aluminium parchment rituals habits customs politics porn impact can crushed cranial violation study text leasts lacks fact look at it wrinkled wafer burnings sweetness crumpled mouthfuls bloody edgings gut deterioration black complication crushed bitumen gravels scrapings reduced pressed presence believe weepings stained silvered Veronica late Grauballe head image contains remains wounded // slit open throat garrotted destruction rotten dentition oily scattered fingerprints skin DNA in situ photographed finally recorded

It’s an adventure, finding a severed hand, a crushed cigarette, a globe or spider in a corner. You’ll find your keys will be under the cooker, under the fridge or on the top deck of the 57. Learn to walk again. Don’t wait to be ill. Go back to the beginning. Crawl. Hold onto the future. Supermarkets are just like cathedrals, particularly Lidl. They’re playing Caccini in the aisles. Then there’s money, food and kissing:you can get self-help books about them from Waterstones. Art? Look again at Death and the Maiden: now you can see she’s holding an iPhone 8. Only the French remain a mystery. No one can see how they fit in. France? Where is it, really? Atlas? He’s the one at the party you try to avoid. He’s so needy.” And what do you do? Oh….” Have you read the new A.Self ? To The Foot Of Our Stairs? Buy it now on Amazon, it’s great!

You and your grey hand on Malinda Street. What point’s that supposed to make? Life line, heart line, long line, short? Fetch Madame Petulengro. Throw away the key.

Eyre Street wall with damaged grille exposed brick cement sand frame in frame brick by brick weathered rendered crumbled inner cavity wall by wall street by street opened mouth breathes only later as it rains meaning might seep in

He leaves the apple on the window frame, A student, male, 22, dissatisfied with his accommodation at The Roost. He puts it there, not casually but respecting the flow of chi down Sudbury Street. Next week he will return to Guangzhou.

Nothing helps us clowns: we’re stranded above a rubbish pile of clown clichés. There’s no way down. (Or forward.) (Or back.) Try stepping sideways? OK @ :-)

Who’s this leaning on a column carrying a walking ball so lightly? What can she see up there? Trapeze artists or spiders? How long has she watched that couple watching television? She remembers another place with clowns, jugglers, Picasso: “la famille de saltimbanques”. Now there’s this one room: it’s not exactly a circus; it’s a long and dusty shelf, a collection of days and years. But she’s always glad to see this immense bright world: still here.

How to? There are too many trees, woods and branches in the way, vexed arboreal questions. Keep digging. Drop tears into the abyss. Where? How? Who? Which? Offer bread, not stale crumbs, to the dead. O mouth of meal and worms, it's late. The final Court of Appeal is in session. Nothing can mend the toy heart, or the fire engine stepped on. No downcast look evades responsibility. No tweet, no email. Not even a letter . A blanket is needed for skulking. Unlike Piaf, regret everything. Pardonnez? Confession has given to confess a bad reputation: swollen holy doses of self-commiseration. Don’t keep on, for pity’s sake. Have done. Leave off. Say what? Say: “Sorry, yeah, sorry, yeah.” just like Justin Bieber.

Orange is the panjandrum, fluent in Mandarin, completely owning its part of the spectrum. It is the only fruit. By the open window it’s all a still life needs- as Cézanne said : “Consciousness is an orange.” Omnipresent in sunsets: stirring together yellows and reds. You’ll find it laying down amber and gold dressing a sunrise over the sea. It is the dream of Nirvana. Just eat it. Push your fingers under its skirt: it will ooze, it may sting. Release its swellings, swallow its juice. It is the fruit that Adam and Eve shared segment by segment. It is Original Bliss. Let us pray: Outspan. Sunkist. Jaffa. Believe in this.

Its all silk and mirrors white gulls and doves wheeling off before breakfast and Top Secret cirrus documents shredded - photographs of sunsets and other pornographic landscapes tipped over the ledge with the rest. Outflow is all. Continuous sizzle and phosphorescence rapid injections of sinuous presence filling all possible bodily orifices. To quote Da Vinci: "..sometimes submerging the valleys with great floods. In time and with water, everything changes.” Good.

from the language area “The ideas of the phrenologist Gall, however ridiculous they may now seem in the light of a century's progress, were nevertheless destined to become metamorphosed into the modern principles of cerebral localization.” —-Edward Anthony Spitzka Easily demonstrated: palp the cranium in the indicated positions: trace a line across the Broca and Wernicke areas. Press and release: increase self-awareness, and by following the sutures fore and aft cross the occipital and temporal lobes - stimulate the production of serotonin until a beatific smile occurs. Keep the exemplary head on the table of your shoulders for future referral.

whisper on water what was said was almost papyrus a fragment preserved in reservoir mud deciphered it reads ...."love"... ...."trust the light"

The day is coming when a single carrot, freshly observed, will set off a revolution. Paul Cezanne The Day of the Carrot By its nobility, by its sacrifice and by its sweetness you will recognize it. No one can question the character of the carrot. Honour the pain it feels when peeled or grated, boiled or cremated.. Always remember the family of carrots. So much more than a taproot: a seeker, a pure creature of sun and rain. It exceeds all expectations, it rises inevitably glowing, it lies there complete. Multiple and singular, baby and ancient, we listen to its songs if we are able. Root carrier of inspiration, when sliced open phloem and xylem are clearly spoken, always enhancing our flaccid occasions. Carry one with you wherever you go: this vegetable will guide you through various stages towards a full sense of the possible harvest. New carrots will come shouldering out of the earth.

Rainbow Gravity Days in dark coats. A roundel. A wren near a frozen pool. Ice and hawthorn. The glow of the mantle of winter. Small lives, fires. Crystal exits. A fridge door left open. Iron furrows, Mercury. At the bottom of a fold it’s difficult to see; on the crest things might be different.

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