One of America’s legendary communes, Twin Oaks, originally modelled on ideas from B.F. Skinner’s “Walden Two” (1948) book, has been badly damaged in a fire. I haven’t written extensively about Twin Oaks in my upcoming book “The Garden”- but they are close on the heels of Tennessee’s Farm for being North America’s most famous and successful commune. Anna writes:
On Wednesday afternoon March 20th 2024, tragedy struck Twin Oaks when a nearby wild fire spread to our property, completely destroying our warehouse complex, our sawmill and our conference site. Over 200 acres burned through the night, forcing the entire community to evacuate. Luckily, no people, pets or residences were damaged. While we do have a disaster fund, the damage we’re facing is devastatingly huge. The structures destroyed include our large warehouse complex, our sawmill, 4 vehicles, our kilns, a hoop-house, a functioning outdoor kitchen and pavilion at the conference site, countless storage structures including 3 barns and 2 trailers, and many other small structures. We are estimating a loss of more than a million dollars. This loss also means the end of our 57-year old hammocks business, which was Twin Oaks’ beating heart for many decades since its foundation in 1967. Other Twin Oaks businesses experienced losses as well, but will most likely recover.
The Leaves of Twin Oaks #132
Vehicles and buildings destroyedDestroyed wood-working machine with ruined workshop / warehouse in backgroundRopemaking Twister ruined
I remember “The Hobbit” poster from my friend Matt David’s brother Rod’s bedroom. But I wasn’t aware of these other beauties. An art school education failed to beat out of me an appreciation of this kind of thing.
Just as I kept running up against the Mani mantra when I was researching “Retreat”, while writing “The Garden” I often encountered the Surya Namaskar, or Sun Salutation, series of yoga asanas. Which, come to think of it, is unusual while working on a book on gardening, growing, and agriculture? Although I suppose there is a special connection between plants and the sun.
Here is a wonderful Sun Salutation image from Jeanne Tetrault and Sherry Thomas’ “Country Women” book.
And here it is in Ramón Sender and Alicia Bay Laurel’s “Being of the Sun.” A beautiful illustration by Bay Laurel.
In fact, I spent quite a lot of time during the writing of “Retreat” in 2018 and 2019 doing the sequence. I don’t think I had the core strength however, and I constantly hurt my back on it.
Here’s a mural depicting the Sun Salutations I found in the Connaught Place subway station in Delhi in 2020.
I always liked this illustration of the Sun Salutations which I have kept on file for years. Today I enlarged it in AI Gigapixel, cleaned it up in Photoshop, and added the tag on the bottom left. I would encourage you to download it. I took a little time trying to research what the correct names are for each of the poses. But the truth is, apart from a few of them, it’s rarely universal. However, as a final attempt before giving up, I thought I ought to check the Wikipedia entry for them. There I read that:
“Elliott Goldberg [Yoga Historian] called Vishnudevananda’s 1960 sequence a “new utilitarian conception of Surya Namaskara”, rejecting his guru Sivananda’s view of it as a health cure.”
Then I got pretty excited, because I have Vishnudevanada’s book. A very interesting dude he gave George Harrison a copy on the set of “Help!” where he was working as an extra.
Looking at the book it’s apparent that the illustrations I’ve always liked have been traced from these photographs.
I’m going to be 53 in May this year and quite fancy the idea of living at least another 50 years – though of course every day might be one’s last… So in due course I think I will try and bring the Sun Salutations back into my life and crank them out once a day like a good little guru.
The concept behind these is the same that characterised Matisse’s Bergsonian experiments with Prichard. The process of experiencing the “durée” of the subject in the practice of its illustration gives expression to its inner nature. The similarity to the Anthroposophical practice of experiencing through “intuition” a subject’s “etheric” is unavoidable.
Kelly’s illustrations here possibly even go further than Matisse, where Matisse could perhaps be described as expressing a more generalised spirit which emanates from all subjects, the line here is very particular to each individual plant, expressing more fully their own unique qualities.
Lulu discovered this event at the Lisson Gallery and we both hastened there. Playback of a forthcoming reissue of Pharaoh Sanders’ eponymous LP, once on the hip and tiny India Navigation label, now set to become more widely-known on the hip and substantial Luaka Bop.
Luaka Bop have done some amazing reissues over the years. They’ve been as reliable as Strut. A purist, I don’t even mind their repackaging. I have a particular soft spot for their World Psychedelic Series, and should probably be all over this sister series.
I’m not entirely convinced by “the artist” Devon Turnbull’s spiel here (see PR sheet below) but I like the cut of his jib (magical hippie upbringing). He’s also made this stereo himself which shows some serious technical ability. Respect.
Ultimately though, getting to listen to a great, rare, spiritual jazz LP for free on an excellent sound system, I mean, what’s there to complain about? I feel like I ought to reach out to him with my “The “S” Word” book…
At the start we were spoken to a woman from Luaka Bop who explained that Pharaoh Sanders was aware of the playback project before he died and took a keen interest in it. That lent proceedings a nice devotional air.
It’s a hipster jam.
That’s the Devon feller in the peaked cap.
Harvest Time. Such a wonderful piece. Never heard it before so I was in for a treat. It has a definite No Wave feel. Shades of influence from the young bucks of the day, James Blood Ulmer and The Music Revelation Ensemble no doubt. The guitar by Tisziji Muñoz, liquid, is prominent and the backing was been described by the reissue label as having the feel of rock group (though on close inspection they all seem to be jazz heavyweights…)
Nice press shot of the man. I’m hoping I will get the CD given to me at Christmas. Thanks to Lulu for bringing me along.
Buddleja, pronounced “buddly-ah” is an interesting plant. Sometimes called “Summer Lilac” it has grown in my awareness this season a great deal. That learning process itself has been interesting in the way it has emerged slowly from a zone of semantic indifference. A few months ago I was totally ignorant about it as I imagine most people who aren’t gardeners are.
It is native to the Sichuan and Hubei provinces in central China, and also Japan. The plant’s name was given to it by none other than Linnaeus, “the father of modern taxonomy” who named it after the English Botanist the Reverend Adam Buddle. With these oriental and religious overtones it is ripe material for this blog.
However, in the UK it was classed as an invasive species in 1922. It’s a weed. It’s simply too damn successful in our temperate region. Its long frondlike arms which wave around in our constant Atlantic winds spread their seeds like nobody’s business. And the plant itself seems capable of growing on next to no soil. I had to remove a Buddleja from the masonry of our back wall, and a huge plant a metre tall had been sustained by no more than a thimble of earth.
My roof garden.
This Buddleja is in my roof garden. I had found it growing alongside another plant and planted it in this swanky grey pot without knowing what it was. I’ve encouraged many weeds in this way, the Dandelions I’ve written about before, my Ash tree etc.
Its flowers.
And the bees and bugs love it. It’s also known as a Butterfly bush for this reason. It looks very pretty I think!
Round the back of Wormwood Scrubs.
However, once you start noticing the Buddleja, you begin to see it everywhere. I would by lying if I claimed that it did not change my rosy perception of it. Although this runs counter to my avowed impulse to embrace weeds – that contradicts another desire to see diversity. You don’t want to see the same plants everywhere.
Hampstead.
Notwithstanding that it is fascinating to see situations where, I don’t know for what reasons, these plants have grown to stupendous scale in the gardens of London. It may be that they were planted there but I think it’s more likely that they grew there, people thought they looked pretty, and that they were allowed to thrive. I think if the owners knew they were weeds (whatever your philosophy is there) they would cut them down. Leaving aside for the moment all questions of what the right or wrong thing to do in that situation is.
Taking the photo above two elderly women noticed me. It turned out that this was one of their houses. They greeted me a little quizzically. I did give a friendly hello as I scooted off on my bike, but it was still a not entirely comfortable situation. Perfectly legal to take photos of anything on the street of course…
Belsize Park.
Here is a huge bush in the garden of a very grand house in Belsize Park…
Chalk Farm.
Growing out of the back of a block of flats’ shared garden…
Primrose Hill.
In the railway sidings at the back of Primrose Hill…
Islington.Old Street.Old Street.
Around Old Street which is the arse end of Islington – Bunhill being the most densely populated ward in the UK apparently – I’m less surprised to see the Buddleja being cultivated in the parks around here. There’s a sense that no-one (least of all the council) gives a shit about the public space.
In Croydon with its natural ally graffiti.Croydon.Redhill.
It is now often seen there along railway lines and on the sites of derelict factories and other buildings. The plant frequently grew on urban bomb sites during the aftermath of World War II, earning it the nickname of “the bomb site plant”.
And finally even at the Findhorn Foundation, the garden of Eden itself. Its violet flowers now dead as the season is likely to be shorter outside Inverness.
The ICA are holding a wonderful exhibition of the work of Moki Cherry which closes on Sunday 3rd September 2023. This has been co-curated by her granddaughter Naima Karlsson. The exhibition especially benefits from being seen in the flesh. I went along with my old pal Sacha.
The mood of these works is playfully organic. Although Moki was a skilled pattern cutter, free reign is given to her enchanting child-like style. In that sense the work is of a kin with her husband the musician Don Cherry’s own naturally unfettered improvisation, itself rarely abrasive or ugly, often straying back and forth between comforting jazz tropes and extemporised flights into freedom. I swear I hear a lot of Vince Guaraldi (via the Snoopy soundtracks) in Don’s piano work.
Don.
I couldn’t resist posing under this tapestry which was used on the actually not-so-great “Hear & Now” LP. Funnily enough this LP also cropped up in the relatively recent Tantra exhibition at the British Museum.
Me.You.Hear & Now LP cover.Relativity Suite.Organic MusicEternal NowBrown RiceLive in Ankara
Moki’s beautiful tapestries were, for a number of years, fixtures on Don’s albums covers. We wondered, rather sadly, what happened to the relationship between Don and Moki in the end.
If you have time please watch this vintage documentary to get the feeling of their life together in Sweden. I used a small excerpt from it, of the team all reciting the Om Mani Padme Hum mantra, in one of my Retreat videos.
An exquisite drawing. There’s much evidence of both their fascination with Indian music. He wasn’t one of the main disciples, but Don was a student of Pandit Pran Nath’s at one point. Moki herself played Tambura pictured here.
Again with the Tibetan Buddhism. Tara, or Green Tara, is alongside Chenrezig the key Tibetan deity. Tibetan men identify with Chenrezig, the women with Tara.
Moki is a perfect figure for today’s revision of female artists. Equality here means just that; equality between different races, genders, even generations.
Some of Moki’s videos were playing on a loop. Here’s a fleeting shot of her Chenrezig tapestry.
Later the same evening that I visited there was a concert by the improvisor and percussionist Kahil El’Zabar. El’Zabar’s background was with the Chicago organisation AACM. The hall was decked with Moki’s tapestries.
Neneh Cherry stage left.The awning.
This was an excellent concert. Kahil El’Zabar conducted the “orchestra” – by sonic queues and gestures, guiding what was more a free-ranging groove than the skronk traditionally associated with improvisation. In some sections it reminded me of CAN at their quietest and most rapturous. It was a thrill to see Neneh Cherry providing background vocals, the whole exhibition and concert somehow having a family feel. It was as though the whole diverse audience were being welcomed into their Cherry family. Thank you, Naima. Thank you, Moki.
Wormy Truth of Gardens drawing for us by Ben Watson.
At Luke Davis’ poetry book launch last June I met the writer/musician/activist Ben Watson. He is chiefly famous for his artist-endorsed writings on Frank Zappa. Ben has been a friend of Luke’s for a long time. I knew beforehand that Luke and his fellow poet Jim Clarke had participated in Ben’s improvised music events on Friday at lunchtime at the Betsey Trotwood on the Farringdon Road.
AMMAS March 31st at The Betsey Trotwood.
Ben is a force of nature. He’s one of those rare people you encounter in life who is truly an individual. Very friendly, he’s not shy of taking a controversial position. I really enjoy his company even though I don’t feel I bring a tremendous amount to the table having given up being “an expert” on music, being too uptight to drink, and preferring at the times I’ve been along to the Betsey Trotwood to sit in the audience and enjoy the experience rather than participate. They make a tremendous sound at the BT and the collectivity of the action is truly thrilling.
As far as I’m concerned the best thing about improvised music is that it entirely eliminates the need for technical abilities. To talk about famous improvisers is to some extent miss the point. When you do so you are entering the domain of the appreciation of musical virtuosity. That’s ok but maybe it’s not its real value? To some extent that explains the DIY punk edge to AMMAS, Watson’s improvising group.
Since childhood, out of total incompetence, I’ve improvised on a range of instruments: hours tiny at the piano at my grandparents’ house, for many years alone in rooms doing so when I should have been practicing violin (or even in the middle of the second orchestra’s performances at school when I was entirely lost from the score), and on the flute. Then later, more recently, on electronic keyboards, electric guitar, bass guitar, drums. All the while making a horrible racket mainly for my own appreciation. And that’s the way it will stay with me, as a private negotiation. Right now I’m quietly mucking around with a recorder. That seemed like a sufficiently disparaged instrument to want to play. Though, as I now appreciate, there’s a lot to be said for it as an activity you can practice in a group.
Ben is in fact a pretty serious musician, with I believe, some degree of actual musical talent. If you’re curious check out this recent piano improvisation which has garnered well-deserved recognition.
