Friday, July 31, 2015

Stifling Heat

stifling heat
a shout goes up from
the PMU bar

Paul Conneally
July 30 2015

Thursday, July 30, 2015

Stacking Shelves

stacking shelves
the shop assistant plans
a picnic for two

Paul Conneally
July 30 2015

from the ongoing series 'Lost in the Supermarket'

Under A Palm Tree

under a palm tree
the sound of a motorbike
and the smell of piss

Paul Conneally
La Croisette, Cannes
July 29 2015

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Feet On Fire

That moment when you've been promenading up and down La Croisette for what seems like hours, your feet are on fire and to top it all your iPad starts playing up!

evening shadows
a seagull leaves it's mark
on my shoulder

Paul Conneally
Cannes 2015

Tokyo Olympic and Paralympic Games 2020 Logo Designs

Kenjio Sano's logo designs for the Tokyo Olympic and Paralympic Games 2020.

Monday, July 27, 2015

Pizza Van

Bourg-Les-Valance sits on the north side of the city of Valance and provides a handy stopover as we drive down L'autoroute de Soleil towards the Côte d'Azur.

The hotel we stay in is surrounded by hinterland discount shops, tool hire companies and light industry. It's surprisingly good and the restaurant is excellent. I give myself over to the will of the chef who for twenty-eight euro will contour up for me a 'surprise' three course meal. Neither he nor our waiter will tell me what to expect only that the chef will have a look at me and decide, from what he sees, the dishes that he will cook.

I turn out to be a starter of lightly fried sea bass fillets on a bed of mashed potatoes, a main course of duck slices in a pepper sauce with roasted Mediterranean vegetables and a dessert of shards of white and dark chocolate with pistachio ice cream. He was spot on.

after dinner walk
the light from the pizza van
draws in moths

Paul Conneally
July 26 2015

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

Panic Attack (Lost in the Supermarket)

panic attack
no organic potatoes
in aisle five

Paul Conneally

From the photographic series Lost in the Supermarket, Loughborough, 2014

Monday, July 20, 2015

Follow Your Heart

follow your heart
a portion of fish and chips
in the town square

Paul Conneally
July 2015

The Baker and The Biker

Antibes street scene - Paul Conneally

I’ve never been one for riding motorbikes but enjoy some of the imagery and mythology that surrounds them.

The crowded narrow roads in and around the towns of the Côte d’Azur seem ideal for two wheeled travel.

Motorcycles, motorbikes, whatever you want to call them, whiz in and out the often stationary cars, vans and lorries.

Sat in a traffic jam, sweat running down my temples, despite the air conditioning, I envy the motorcyclist weaving between the people carriers and Ferraris.

On foot, in search of a certain bar and bread, the motorbikes become an annoyance. Their noise and smell. The fear that one will fail to see me in its weave and knock me over.

such short shadows
the baker asks the biker
to remove his helmet

Paul Conneally

Antibes 2013

Saturday, July 18, 2015

LA SCIMMIA SULLA SCHIENA - William Burroughs - book cover by MarioDelgado

Book Cover for Italian version of Junkie by William Burroughs by Mario Degrada -  Paul Conneally


Book cover designed by Mario Degrada for the Italian translation of William Burroughs classic tale of drug addiction 'Junky'.

Degrada designed many wonderful book covers for Italian publishers Rizzoli.

To hear William Burroughs read the whole of Junkie click this link:
Junkie by William Burroughs

Friday, July 17, 2015

Newspaper Seller

ALoughborough UK street vendor newspapers Paul Conneally July 2015

Newspaper Seller

It's good to see that despite the online proliferation of news there are still local newspapers and what's more local newspaper street sellers. This jolly chap is at the intersection of Loughborough's Market Street and Market Place. He sells just one publication the weekly Loughborough Echo. He doesn't shout out to passers-by to sell his papers but draws them in with his smile, a broad grin, and kind words.

local gossip
just when will the council
mow these verges?

Paul Conneally
July 16 2015

Still Waiting

Still Waiting

The sun is not out but the market is still too warm, too humid.

Sweat trickles down my back.

A man with Tourette's curses the air, marching up between fruit stalls and cheap fashion towards Loughborough's famous Sock Man sculpture.

Strawberries three punnets a pound.

still waiting
the pregnant woman mops
her brow with her sleeve

Paul Conneally
July 2015

Jacckson Pollock and his dog

Jackson Pollock and his dog Gyp.

Thursday, July 16, 2015

SKEP hive mind - Loughborough University Fruit Routes 2015

Artist Paul Conneally during SKEP - Culhane and Conneally June 2015

Artist Paul Conneally during SKEP Loughborough University June 2015

hive mind

Performative, Participative, Collaborative Installation
Anne-Marie Culhane and Paul Conneally
Fruit Routes Loughborough University
18th June 2015

We share our lives with and our very existence depends on the bees - a keystone species in the natural world.

Building on the tradition of Telling the Bees, where beekeepers informed the bees of significant events in their communities or lives, you are invited to share something of your personal thoughts on community, cooperation and the future of our relationship with the ecological community (animals, insects, plants).

Speak out loud

Share your thoughts in silence

Write in the book

Artist Anne-Marie Culhane during SKEP Loughborough University June 2015

SKEP is part of the ongoing Fruit Routes / Eat Your Campus work at Loughborough University in June 2015. SKEP was one element in a day of events and interventions coordinated by Culhane that included a wild tea party, visits to the campus apiary and an evening of moth catching and watching. SKEP offered a space for thought and quiet in the presence of a listener, SKEP, Culhane or Conneally sat passively, silent, wearing a traditional British woven basket beehive, a skep, on their head.

14 Nights in Carnac

14 Nights in Carnac
mixed media - book and oak leaves
Paul Conneally 2006

14 Nights in Carnac - a piece performed and made in July 2006. The artist spends 14 nights in Carnac famous for its megaliths its standing stones. He lives and sleeps below two oak trees. Each night reading sections of Haruki Murakami’s The Wind-up Bird Chronicle plucking an oak leaf from the trees and placing it inside the book as a bookmark.

The experience exists as the book with the 14 leaves pressed inside it.

In 2007 images of the pressed leaves inside the book are transferred on to white ceramic bathroom tiles and form part of Conneally’s exhibition in Mile End Arts Pavilion ‘The Renewability’ curated by Tomomi Iguchi.

Monday, July 13, 2015

A. Laptev: We build from cardboard [Строим из картона] (1932)

A. Laptev: We build from cardboard [Строим из картона] (1932)


Invigilator Digbeth Paul Conneally and Nikki Pugh Birmingham psychogeography splacist

Thinking back to 'Invigilator : DIGBETH' discussions I am struck by oblique and direct references to boredom - the gallery invigilators job being referred to as sometimes boring.

When transposed to an outside space where the invigilator has to stand or sit and simply ‘watch over’ then the space and the action of simply watching over it sets up an interaction that is boring in such a way that it can transcend boredom if we let it… The space becoming bored of the invigilator throws up new facets new resonances between it and the 'watcher over’ the 'invigilator’ A couple of Invigilator:Digbeth participants said that they found the invigilating very zen like - another not at all - the invigilating passed-by with a contrived doing - a counting of and classification of vehicles passing through the invigilated space. Such actions are invoked by the space itself as it is watched over - after all it was only chance that the space invigilated happened to have cars passing through it - this counting this classifying borne out of the possibility of boredom.

“INVITE BOREDOM” - paul conneally 2008

Sunday, July 12, 2015

Summer Shorts

In the hot afternoon it's good to escape into the shade of a city centre pub. A cool beer away from the hustle and bustle of the busy streets. Late enough to miss the lunchtime rush and too early for after work drinkers.

I sweat out a few thoughts.

summer shorts
the drunk in the corner
tells me he loves me

Paul Conneally
The Orange Tree
July 2015

Saturday, July 11, 2015

This Pressing Heat

this pressing heat
a man with a sleeping dog
waves his taxi on

Paul Conneally
July 2015

Wednesday, July 08, 2015

Tamara Karsavina - Ballerina

Tamara Karsavina
Born March 9,10, 1885, St. Petersburg, Russia--d. May 26, 1978, Beaconsfield, Buckinghamshire, Eng.

Anglo-Russian ballerina whose partnership with Vaslav Nijinsky in Mikhail Fokine's avant-garde ballets helped to revive interest in ballet in western Europe.

Sunday, July 05, 2015

Preparing the Bar

preparing the bar
for tomorrow's event
make-up and tights

Paul Conneally
The White Peacock
Leicester UK

The Sound Of Water - Richard Thornton - Paul Conneally - Jemma Bagley

Metal benches designed and made by sculptor Richard Thornton with words, fragments of haiku, written by members of the local community with artist poet Paul Conneally, laser cut into them.

They are in the community recreation area of the Watermead housing development in Thurmaston, Charnwood, Leicestershire.

The work was coordinated by community artist Jemma Bagley from the wonderful arts organisation Charnwood Arts. Jemma also brought together a book out of the project called The Sound Of Water which was distributed free to hundreds of people in the area featuring poems and walks undertaken as part of the commission.

Saturday, July 04, 2015

Our Painted Soles

“Our painted soles, walking or running with no regard to where they land down a long roll of paper” - Paul Conneally

from ‘Involuntary Painting 1 New Parks : New York’ Millree Hughes & Paul Conneally and people from New Parks community with and for Soft Touch Arts and New Parks Library, Leicester, UK

Friday, July 03, 2015

On the Passage of a Few Persons Through a Rather Brief Period of Time - Guy Debord

On the Passage of a Few Persons Through a Rather Brief Period of Time

Guy Debord

Dansk-Fransk Experimentalfilmskompagni (1959)

Translated by Ken Knabb

Voice 1 (male “professional announcer” type): This neighborhood1 was made for the wretched dignity of the petty bourgeoisie, for respectable occupations and intellectual tourism. The sedentary population of the upper floors was sheltered from the influences of the street. This neighborhood has remained the same. It was the strange setting of our story, where a systematic questioning of all the diversions and works of a society, a total critique of its idea of happiness, was expressed in acts.

These people also scorned “subjective profundity.” They were interested in nothing but an adequate and concrete expression of themselves.

Voice 2 (Debord, monotone): Human beings are not fully conscious of their real life — usually groping in the dark; overwhelmed by the consequences of their acts; at every moment groups and individuals find themselves confronted with results they have not wished.

Voice 1: They said that oblivion was their ruling passion. They wanted to reinvent everything each day; to become the masters and possessors of their own lives.

Just as one does not judge a man according to the conception he has of himself, one cannot judge such periods of transition according to their own consciousness; on the contrary, one must explain the consciousness through the contradictions of material life, through the conflict between social conditions and the forces of social production.

The progress achieved in the domination of nature was not yet matched by a corresponding liberation of everyday life. Youth passed away among the various controls of resignation.

Our camera has captured for you a few aspects of a provisional microsociety.

The knowledge of empirical facts remains abstract and superficial as long as it is not concretized by its integration into the whole — which alone permits the supersession of partial and abstract problems so as to arrive at their concrete essence, and implicitly at their meaning.

This group was on the margins of the economy. It tended toward a role of pure consumption, and first of all the free consumption of its time. It thus found itself directly engaged in qualitative variations of everyday life but deprived of any means to intervene in them.

The group ranged over a very small area. The same times brought them back to the same places. No one went to bed early. Discussion on the meaning of all this continued...

Voice 2: “Our life is a journey — In the winter and the night. — We seek our passage...”

Voice 1: The abandoned literature nevertheless exerted a delaying action on new affective formulations.

Voice 2: There was the fatigue and the cold of the morning in this much-traversed labyrinth, like an enigma that we had to resolve. It was a looking-glass reality through which we had to discover the potential richness of reality.

On the bank of the river evening began once again; and caresses; and the importance of a world without importance. Just as the eyes have a blurred vision of many things and can see only one clearly, so the will can strive only incompletely toward diverse objects and can completely love only one at a time.

Voice 3 (young girl): No one counted on the future. It would never be possible to be together later, or anywhere else. There would never be a greater freedom.

Voice 1: The refusal of time and of growing old automatically limited encounters in this narrow, contingent zone, where what was lacking was felt as irreparable. The extreme precariousness of the means of getting by without working was at the root of this impatience which made excesses necessary and breaks definitive.

Voice 2: One never really contests an organization of existence without contesting all of that organization’s forms of language.

Voice 1: When freedom is practiced in a closed circle, it fades into a dream, becomes a mere representation of itself. The ambiance of play is by nature unstable. At any moment “ordinary life” can prevail once again. The geographical limitation of play is even more striking than its temporal limitation. Any game takes place within the contours of its spatial domain. Around the neighborhood, around its fleeting and threatened immobility, stretched a half-known city where people met only by chance, losing their way forever.

The girls who found their way there, because they were legally under the control of their families until the age of eighteen, were often recaptured by the defenders of that detestable institution. They were generally confined under the guard of those creatures who among all the bad products of a bad society are the most ugly and repugnant: nuns.

What usually makes documentaries so easy to understand is the arbitrary limitation of their subject matter. They describe the atomization of social functions and the isolation of their products. One can, in contrast, envisage the entire complexity of a moment which is not resolved into a work, a moment whose movement indissolubly contains facts and values and whose meaning does not yet appear. The subject matter of the documentary would then be this confused totality.

Voice 2: The era had arrived at a level of knowledge and technical means that made possible, and increasingly necessary, a directconstruction of all aspects of a liberated affective and practical existence. The appearance of these superior means of action, still unused because of the delays in the project of liquidating the commodity economy, had already condemned aesthetic activity, whose ambitions and powers were both outdated. The decay of art and of all the values of former mores had formed our sociological background. The ruling class’s monopoly over the instruments we needed to control in order to realize the collective art of our time had excluded us from a cultural production officially devoted to illustrating and repeating the past. An art film on this generation can only be a film on its absence of real creations.

Everyone unthinkingly followed the paths learned once and for all, to their work and their home, to their predictable future. For them duty had already become a habit, and habit a duty. They did not see the deficiency of their city. They thought the deficiency of their life was natural. We wanted to break out of this conditioning, in quest of another use of the urban landscape, in quest of new passions. The atmosphere of a few places gave us intimations of the future powers of an architecture it would be necessary to create to be the support and framework for less mediocre games. We could expect nothing of anything we had not ourselves altered. The urban environment proclaimed the orders and tastes of the ruling society just as violently as the newspapers. It is man who makes the unity of the world, but man has extended himself everywhere. People can see nothing around them that is not their own image; everything speaks to them of themselves. Their very landscape is alive. There were obstacles everywhere. There was a cohesion in the obstacles of all types. They maintained the coherent reign of poverty. Everything being connected, it was necessary to change everything by a unitary struggle, or nothing. It was necessary to link up with the masses, but we were surrounded by sleep.

Voice 3: The dictatorship of the proletariat is a desperate struggle, bloody and bloodless, violent and peaceful, military and economic, educational and administrative, against the forces and traditions of the old world.

Voice 1: In this country it is once again the men of order who have rebelled. They have reinforced their power. They have been able to aggravate the grotesqueness of the ruling conditions according to their will. They have embellished their system with the funereal ceremonies of the past.

Voice 2: Years, like a single instant prolonged to this point, come to an end.

Voice 1: What was directly lived reappears frozen in the distance, fit into the tastes and illusions of an era, carried away with it.

Voice 2: The appearance of events that we have not made, that others have made against us, now obliges us to be aware of the passage of time, its results, the transformation of our own desires into events. What differentiates the past from the present is precisely its out-of-reach objectivity; there is no more should-be; being is so consumed that it has ceased to exist. The details are already lost in the dust of time. Who was afraid of life, afraid of the night, afraid of being taken, afraid of being kept?

Voice 3: What should be abolished continues, and we continue to wear away with it. We are engulfed. We are separated. The years pass and we haven’t changed anything.

Voice 2: Once again morning in the same streets. Once again the fatigue of so many similarly passed nights. It is a walk that has lasted a long time.

Voice 1: Really hard to drink more.

Voice 2: Of course one might make a film of it. But even if such a film succeeds in being as fundamentally disconnected and unsatisfying as the reality it deals with, it will never be more than a re-creation — poor and false like this botched traveling shot.

Voice 3: There are now people who pride themselves on being authors of films, as others were authors of novels. They are even more backward than the novelists because they are unaware of the decomposition and exhaustion of individual expression in our time, ignorant of the end of the arts of passivity. They are praised for their sincerity since they dramatize, with more personal depth, the conventions of which their life consists. There is talk of the liberation of the cinema. But what does it matter to us if one more art is liberated through which Tom, Dick or Harry can joyously express their slavish sentiments? The only interesting venture is the liberation of everyday life, not only in the perspectives of history but for us and right away. This entails the withering away of alienated forms of communication. The cinema, too, has to be destroyed.

Voice 2: In the final analysis, stars are created by the need we have for them, and not by their talent or lack of talent or even by the film industry or advertising. Miserable need, dismal, anonymous life that would like to expand itself to the dimensions of cinema life. The imaginary life on the screen is the product of this real need. The star is the projection of this need.

The images of the advertisements during the intermissions are more suited than any others for evoking an intermission of life.

To really describe this era it would no doubt be necessary to show many other things. But what would be the point?

Better to grasp the totality of what has been done and what remains to be done than to add more ruins to the old world of the spectacle and of memories.


1. This film, which evokes the lettrist experiences at the origin of the situationist movement, opens with shots of the Paris district frequented by the lettrists in the early 1950s. (KK)

Paul Conneally