Modern Nature: The Journals of Derek Jarman

Modern Nature: The Journals of Derek Jarman

Derek Jarman

Language: English

Pages: 320

ISBN: 0099116316

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Shipped from UK, please allow 10 to 21 business days for arrival. Modern nature, paperback, nice clean copy, paper foxing

Travels in Vermeer: A Memoir

The Shepherd's Life: Modern Dispatches from an Ancient Landscape

Stranger to History: A Son's Journey through Islamic Lands

Bit of a Blur: The Autobiography

Homeless at Harvard Finding Faith and Friendship on the Streets of Harvard Square















something I have never done on my birthday, which has always been a cold, grey day. Planted a handful of sea kale seedlings about the garden, they grow rapidly, making luxurious plants within the year; large grey-green leaves catch the summer dew like pearls; their perfection untouched by predatory caterpillars. They fringe the sea, their frilly leaves dance a Can-Can amongst the flotsam. At this time of the year they are nearly invisible, but if you look closely they are already sprouting their

accidentally burning a hole in his white T-shirt with a cigarette. 59 MODERN NATURE Outside, the wallflowers are battling it out with the cold wind. Another circle of stones takes shape. My back aches terribly as I haul them up from the sea shore; perhaps that's why 1 have this headache. Morbidly self-absorbed, I worry that I'm forgetting something important. But what was so important it needed remembering? Now it was at this time Oedipus tore out his guilty eyes with his vengeful hand,

frightening. Drove with David to Folkestone to Maggi Hambling's show in the old palm court of the Metropole Hotel, a most unlikely place for an exhibition: poverty stricken spirit of hideously converted rooms, chipboard and fake mahogany over the beautiful old plasterwork, presided over by a loquacious arts officer in T-shirt and white shorts. He flashed his brochure. Maggi, Spike Milligan, Melvyn Bragg and three Scottish poets - we all looked slightly bemused as the local press photographed us.

There's sticky spaghetti shoved into my drying shoes. Cut back santolina and helichryssum and planted dozens of gorse cuttings. The sea buckthorn I potted up a few weeks back has rooted. Planted out the iris and the slips of my old pink, Mrs. Sinkins; also the great mullein. Sprinkled seeds of the purple sea pea all over the garden. The seed heads of the dill have turned a deep bronze. The purple burdock flowers are covered with tortoiseshells, and the wild fennel is bright with yellow flowers.

softened the decade - made it seem less complicated. The sixties opened the floodgates of consumption; and as more - much more, became available we lost a sense of the New. By the eighties the excitement of the New had disappeared. In the sixties the New was still ours, and the media was only just taking its first faltering steps to exploit it. 'Being in the know' meant the thrill of entering a secret world. In the colour supplements and media shows of the eighties everything withers little

Download sample