almondpicker

welsh garden

2006-09-05T11:06:00.000-07:00

I saw this cobweb on a bramble while I was getting all my stuff together for college and it reminded me firstly of Jonathon Parsons' carcass, one of the artists we where advised to look at for this project, but visually more of Aboriginal map symbols. Aboriginal maps are probably among the most fascinating because other than the guiding symbols painted in ochre there are certain markers in the terrain, much like Richard Long's Maps/Sculptures(another artist we where advised to study). And that, in my opinion is what makes them so interesting: the navigational device is in fact the very terrain it would otherwhise be a reprisentation of. It's too late for me to develope an idea from that, after all this is my "Map" so to speak, but I thought it would be worth taking note of, even this late in the process. And I am thinking of experimenting with this kind of sculpture, and possibly a short film on top of this. If I do, I'll find a way of getting them on this blog.

adios

2006-09-03T20:01:00.000-07:00

Well, I left Deia tree days ago and I'm getting used to life back home. Only my body-clock's a little fucked and I'm only home for a week before I move into the Halls of Residence in Swansea Institute of Higher Education. This is the last picture I took of Deia as I left in the car for Palma Airport. Every one who goes to Deia loves it, and I'm no exeption. I've got the bug and I'm going again first chance I get. This was a journey in itself and I think this Blog was a good way to reprisent it. But the journey doesn't finish until I walk into that old building on Alexandra road, so I'm not done yet.

mates

2006-08-27T16:57:00.000-07:00

These are my mates in Deia. They left a couple of days ago exept for Tom in the blue t-shirt.
Names From Left: Ryan, Ems, Tom, Alex and Debs. Tom's staying as long as I am and last night we got invited back to Anna Freil's Villa that her and David are renting! I kind of felt like a fish out of water, every one was really well put together, even Tom and his brother George, and there was me, all grunjed up and already pissed as a fart. Well, long story short me and Tom drank four of the eight bottles of wine consumed that night and I K.O'd on the floor. To make up for it I ended up cooking breakfast for every one. Rock 'n Roll!

my room

2006-08-25T10:49:00.000-07:00

This is where I'm staying. When they said "You can sleep in the garage..." I hesitated and said "O.K" (Quite slowly) but the I walked in and thought "Blimey! This'll do!" It's huge. There's a ping-pong table and a trap door that leads down to a room filled with matresses!

paella

2006-08-23T22:59:00.000-07:00

Francisca cooks a paella. It's basically sea food like prawns, muscles and fish with rice, saphron and pepers. Sounds relatively easy like most other Catalan dishes but it really isn't. Because it's sea food you've got to get it right.

the jet set

2006-08-20T11:39:00.000-07:00

This rather tight-arsed looking place place is called "Alba." Despite it's post modern minimalist feel and upper-class appearence it's actually quite chilled out here. Every current generation in Deia interacts in this place, it's not just for young ritch tourists, or in my case, piss poor "friends of the family." It's kind of a Caffe/Bar with "Open-Mic Nights" on Thursday nights on the roof. The food and drinks are very cheap, even by "us common folk's" standards and you can even connect wireless to the internet from there. Not to shabby in my opinion.

Having said that, Crist what a Celeb hotspot! I've seen Bob Geldof at least five times now and I've spoken to his "Pete Doherty-Obsessed" daughter Pixie a couple of times now. She's actually really nice and down to earth, but I can't seem to get near her father. Having said that I don't think that many people could, and to be honest I didn't really want to. I was having a conversation with Pixie about music and I had my "Kurt Cobain" vest on and she said she never really got his music. Consiquently we then kind of tailed of into a conversation about "Junkie-Friends" and wanting to change the subject Pixie asked me in an "off the wall" kind of way what I thought of her father's music... I'd have much rather stayed on the subject of "Junkie-Friends" to be honest. You know that scene in "Austin Powers-Goldmember" when Scott tells Dr.Evil that he loves him and Dr.Evil gags on his own insecurity and discomfourt? Picture that and an urgent need to go to the toilet. I honestly wasn't star-struck in any way, I just didn't want to hurt her feelings and I desperately needed a piss, but I couldn't lie coz I'd had three double-vodka and cokes. I don't hate his music I just don't particularly like it either. But thank fuck, she was fine with it, I think she even laughed but that might have been at me and not with me, I was a bit of a mess that night... The night before I'd met up with some other English speakers (I don't think it's very likely I'd have met some other Welsh speakers) and don't ask me how but we ended up in Anna Freil's parent's house; well, their friends house but they were staying there. Debs, who was slighty sloshed, in true drunken English fasion started complaining about the French. This was at a point when I was really clicking with Dez(Anna's Father) because we both spoke Celtic languages, and I was thinking to myself "Debs,shutthefuckupshutthefuckupshutthefuckupshutthefuckup!" Although Debs handled Dez quite well (He's on the ball but really intense) he gave her an adequate roasting for her blatant drunken generalisation, and I hoped that that would be the end of it. But then George, in true semi-posh drunken English fasion said (after a very long and ucomfourtable pause) , "Don't even get me started on the bloody Germans!" I swear my forehead hit the table and I made a noise like a newly castrated bull.

grapes

2006-08-17T19:15:00.000-07:00

This is pretty much the first view every morning on the way to work. Fransisca told me that I can pick anything of the trees during work if I'm hungry (as long as it's edible): Grapes, figs and apples mostly; it isn't quite almond season yet .

catalan cooking

2006-08-16T23:59:00.000-07:00

Fransisca is the Woman who's family i was staying with. Catalan cooking is very simple, Jamie Oliver would like it, you basically chuck anything fresh in and the key ingredient is always olive oil.

pedro

2006-08-14T21:52:00.000-07:00

August 14 2006

We killed a sheep today.

I say we, an enormous Catalunian Shire Horse of a man named Pedro killed him. It was strange in a way, visually; a large man to a barely mature young ram, like an unffair fight with every wager on Pedro. It really didn’t bother me but I can see how it may have appeared disturbing to some people; the people who would argue tha meat is murder. I can understand their argument but ultimately I disagree. As one immage among billions captured temporarily in time it looks like murder but that implies that it was mindless killing and that it achieved nothing. Ultimately, meat is food and it comes from somewhere, and this is Pedro’s livelyhood. He was a very nice person, and we are going to eat the meat, there’s no logic in doing otherwise. Despite my opinion it was a sombre moment, and at first glance it didn’t seem dignified. There was a nauseous moment where I heared the poor animal choke on it’s own blood and both flaps of the open wound on it’s throat slammed together in grotesque and moist collision.

After a while, probably five minites or so, though it felt much longer, the ram began flailing and slamming it’s head against the tree it was slumped next to. It was at at this point I think it had accepted it’s fate and was trying to hasten the prosess. It gave one last gasp and died. Catalina, Fransisca’s skytsophrennic but lovely sister was on her knees with her arms around the beast. That was a pretty immage to witness. I don’t think that she felt guilty, she’s probably used to it by now, but she did raise it and I think she felt she should be with it, and I admire that. I could see that she was very sad though, I really empathised with her. On the way to the terrace where we would kill the sheep Fransisca said “It’s always a bloody nightmare to get the sheep into the bloody pen, although mabye Catalina has had a word with the sheep!” I thought “What!?” and then we reached the terrace and Catalina was leading the sheep into the pen, they where following her in a net, single-file line! It was really strange. It seems cruel of me also to minimise the whole experience into a series of immages but that’s how I decipher most experiences, it makes them easier to understand, and although it didn’t seem dignified as an immage, you only face death once if you’re lucky, and so it’s completely understandable that mabye you didn’t face it with an ideal level of dignity; after all, all animals have feelings I’m sure, before they become property. It hasn’t put me of meat though.

work

2006-08-10T21:48:00.000-07:00

I started work on the terraces. It was tiring, hot sweaty work but the environment was mind-blowing. There are lemon trees on all twenty-odd terraces, fig-trees on the way and green grapes growing wild all over their property.

I work in a kind of valley with many levels i.e the terraces and you can see the sea through the point where both sides of the valley end. My job that day was to plough the grass around the lemon trees which had been drinking the water intended for the trees.

Deia

2006-08-08T23:12:00.000-07:00

August 8 2006

I arrived at Palma Airport and frankly didn’t have a clue what to do next.

My Mum, bless her had written a list of instructions but if you ever go to a foreighn country on you’r own when you’re at an age when you’ve only just learned how to wank properly then I wish you luck coz it’s fucking scary. In the end I got on a bus and somehow found my way to Deia. Even that was scary coz I don’t speak a word of Spanish but I worked out a really effective system. My Mum’s instructions said that I needed to get dropped of at a resturaunt called “Can Quet.” Basically you hop on a bus, tell the driver where you need to go, in my case Deia and if you can, sit behind or near him. Every once in a while on the journey say “Can Quet?”(Or what ever reference point you where given) and he/she will reply “BLAHFLACH BENDECHO CAVRON BLAGTDUHHB!” and that’ll mean no, essentially(although directly translated it may have something to do with you’r IQ and certain parts of your mother’s anatomy…)

Later that day I went with Juan, Fransisca’s son to a dinner party in his friend’s house in Sa Pobla. The house was amasing and the food was phanomenal. We got slightly drunk on red wine and then had a few joints. It was pretty mellowed out with cannabis, wine and jazz. The people were really interesting and generous, there were some awesome vibes in that party.

map to college

2006-08-07T13:03:00.000-07:00

Step 1 of the Map