Milbury souvenirs

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A little something I ran up this weekend inspired by a certain TV serial which has been the subject of discussion recently. This is now a new design at CafePress. The idea was to do a travel poster in the style of those produced by London Transport in the 1920s promoting their destinations outside the city. I’ve always liked the colours and bold design of those prints so this piece is based on posters by artist Noel Rooke (1881–1953).

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Betchworth by Noel Rooke.

The picture of the stones was adapted from a photo by Jim Champion which is made available under the Creative Commons licence. I took the liberty of enlarging the stone on the left to give it more presence. I couldn’t find a font that was a good match for Noel Rooke’s pen lettering so I scanned an alphabet from a lettering book my mother used to use when she was at art school (thanks, Mum!). The snake design is based on a postcard seen in the TV serial; nothing else looked as effective, and the combination of the snake with the slogan adds the requisite sinister touch.

Previously on { feuilleton }
A Journey to Avebury by Derek Jarman
Children of the Stones
Avebury panoramas

A Journey to Avebury by Derek Jarman

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Among the Doublevision video releases I was writing about earlier this month there’s a notable omission from those which have been reissued on DVD: Derek Jarman’s In the Shadow of the Sun was the seventh release on the label, the 1980 version of a film which was compiled in 1974 using footage from his earlier Super-8 shorts, one of which was A Journey to Avebury (1971). Several of the short films have appeared as extras on recent DVDs but the gorgeously oneiric In the Shadow of the Sun remains stubbornly unavailable.

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A Journey to Avebury lasts for ten minutes, and in its original state was nothing more than silent, static shots of fields, pathways (putative ley lines, perhaps), silhouetted trees, and finally the Avebury stones. I still find it one of the most fascinating of his short films. The yellow filter gives all the shots an oppressive, sulphurous cast which turns the otherwise bucolic landscape into a place of imminent (or even post-) apocalypse. I’m reminded of the yellow skies in Charles Platt’s erotic nightmare The Gas (1970), or some of the outdoor shots in Penda’s Fen (1974) which are equally suffused with menace.

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The copy of A Journey to Avebury that’s currently on YouTube is a recent version with an uncredited electronic score. I still don’t know who did the music; it doesn’t sound like Coil. Cyclobe? (It’s Coil.) The YouTube version can be found in far better quality on the Second Sight DVD of Jarman’s The Last of England.

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And just to show how everything here is connected to everything else, that brooding megalith above (known locally as “The Devil’s Seat”) can be seen in at least one shot in Children of the Stones. No surprise there but the shot also reveals the place where Jarman and co. would have been standing five years earlier.

Previously on { feuilleton }
Children of the Stones
Avebury panoramas
Derek Jarman’s music videos
Derek Jarman’s Neutron
Mister Jarman, Mister Moore and Doctor Dee
The Tempest illustrated
Penda’s Fen by David Rudkin
In the Shadow of the Sun by Derek Jarman
Derek Jarman at the Serpentine
The Angelic Conversation
The life and work of Derek Jarman

Children of the Stones

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“Pretty phantasmagorical!” says precocious teenager Matthew when he and his father drive into the fictional village of Milbury in the opening scene of Children of the Stones. Matthew’s father is a scientist whose work requires a three-month stay in a village built in the centre of a series of ancient ramparts and stone circles. Once settled, they find many of the villagers to be blandly cheerful, while Matthew discovers that his maths skills at the local school pale beside younger children who can solve complex equations with ease. Omnipresent characters in the village are Hendrick, a retired astronomer who owns the local manor house and acts as village squire; Margaret, a newly-arrived archaeologist who knows the history of the stones; and Dai, a vagrant poacher who lives outside the circle, and who seems eager to remain free of the Stepford-like happiness afflicting his neighbours.

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Matthew (Peter Demin).

Matthew’s “phantasmagorical” epithet is directed at the neolithic mound outside the village but could easily apply to the whole of this seven-part serial which I watched again recently. HTV produced Children of the Stones which was first broadcast in early 1977. A mystery serial for children involving pagan history, folk rituals and an undercurrent of science fiction wasn’t such a surprising thing in the 1970s, this being a decade when a popular interest in the occult and the paranormal was more prevalent than at any time before or since. Children’s television reflected adult trends which is why we got to see an adaptation of Alan Garner’s The Owl Service, the occult adventure series Ace of Wands (with its hero named “Tarot”), The Tomorrow People (which occasionally strayed from science fiction to science fantasy) and others (see an earlier post, Occultism for kids). Children of the Stones was the most complex of all of these, a well-crafted drama with similarities to Nigel Kneale’s TV plays, The Wicker Man and The Prisoner. With a slight change of emphasis it would have worked just as well as a serial for adults. The best children’s serials of the period were usually adaptations of novels; Children of the Stones was an original work for television, written by Jeremy Burnham & Trevor Ray, and directed by Peter Graham Scott.

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Adam (Gareth Thomas), Margaret (Veronica Strong) and Hendrick (Iain Cuthbertson).

Continue reading “Children of the Stones”

Weekend links 134

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Technological mandala 02 (The beginning) (2012) by Leonardo Ulian.

• The Yellow Magic Orchestra really were the Japanese equivalent of Kraftwerk in 1978. I’d not seen this video for Firecracker before. Same goes for the Technopolis and Rydeen videos. Related: YMO’s synth programmer, Hideki Matsutake, showing off his modular Moog on a Japanese TV show.

Sra is the final book in the Aedena Cycle by Moebius. It’s never been translated into English but Quenched Consciousness has just finished posting the entire book in an unofficial translation.

• “It’s better to have a small amount of good comics, than a big amount of mediocre comics.” Dutch comic artist Joost Swarte interviewed.

• From 2007: The Strange Lovecraftian Statuary of Puerto Vallarta (Thanks, Ian.) Related: More art by Alejandro Colunga.

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A novelty mechanical clock barometer in the form of a steam engine (c. 1885).

The MR-808: a room-size TR-808 drum machine by Moritz Simon Geist with real instruments played by robot hands.

• “Shoot us and dig the grave; otherwise we’re staying.” The women living in Chernobyl’s toxic wasteland.

Hotel Room Portraits 1999–2012 by Richard Renaldi, a new photo exhibition at Wessel + O’Connor.

Lane’s Telescopic View of the Opening of the Great Exhibition, 1851.

• “I’m the target market, and I don’t like it!” A Creative Catharsis.

Brian Eno’s new ambient album, Lux, is released on Monday.

Collages by Sergei Parajanov.

Techno City (1984) by Cybotron | Techno Primitiv (1985) by Chris & Cosey | Techno Dread (2008) by 2562.

European Rendezvous by CTI

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A final post about the releases on Cabaret Voltaire’s Doublevision label. European Rendezvous (1984) was a follow-up to the Elemental 7 release by Chris & Cosey with the pair performing again under their Creative Technology Institute name. As with the earlier release the visuals are a collaboration with John Lacey while the music was recorded live during their 1983 tour of Europe. Once again, I knew this from the soundtrack album (also on Doublevision) and didn’t get to see the video which has never been reissued. Visually this is further impressionistic layering of images à la Elemental 7 but with greater emphasis on Chris & Cosey themselves. Musically, I always preferred the earlier CTI release which worked perfectly well without the visuals so it’s interesting to see that the visuals for European Rendezvous help music which lacks the finesse of their studio recordings. The fifty-minute tape is rounded off with a promo video for October (Love Song).

The YouTube version of European Rendezvous is in great condition compared to some of the other things I’ve been linking to; here’s hoping someone eventually uploads a complete copy of TV Wipeout. Most of the other Doublevision video releases including Tuxedomoon’s Ghost Sonata, Einstürzende Neubauten’s Halber Mensch and Cabaret Voltaire’s Johnny YesNo have since been reissued on DVD.

Previously on { feuilleton }
TV Wipeout
Seven Songs by 23 Skidoo
Elemental 7 by CTI