People in what was Mogador now Essaouira

I was sitting in this cafe in the main square which was the only time I had not an insanely sweet and overly steeped tea, when I noticed this French woman. She was about 70 something ( or the sun was mean to her) that dame in Pink was like some amped up version of Phyllis Diller if that is possible. In my notes I wrote a cross between Diller and Carol Burnett.

On the other side of the page, a terribly deformed local and a kid.

sad sights

I spent the day in marrakech doing nothing but walking around. In the evening I was eating in the place djelma el-fna, the intense main square and I noticed a Berber woman I gave some money to yesterday, I gave her money for her boy who looked like the spittingvimage of my friends son. This time I was taken a back as she had blood streaming down her mouth. There were other women there all engaged in a huge arguement, not like maybe they were excited and in another language, it was an arguement with pushing. I was mystifyed but knew there was nothing I could do, even if I tried, it ain't like I live here. Dejected, I walked away then as I came around the square I saw a white truck, loaded with all ethnic berbers. It was terrible, and to see women and children holding onto wire grates on the inside of this van made me sick- it was dehumanizing for them and revolting to see it.

The excuses the people gave were just ignorant and these poor kids were crying.

"they were bothering people" if you come here you will know how funny that is, everyone is annoying and after a few days you want to punch the guy who wants to sell you coucous, shoes, cigarettes, sunglasses, etc. It was just over vendor territory but good grief was it hideous.

Rooftop in Pen

Rooftop in Marrakech

April 18th, 2009

Chris and I were waiting to see Barry Lyndon in the theatre and I drew this guy with the great Schoz.

I remember nothing about this

Moving on to Morocco

Well, a week has gone by and it is time to say goodbye to Cambridge and head back to London and catch my plane to Marraech. I think it is going to be hard to do updates from there, no computer so I guess this blog will be on hiatus till I get back to the UK.

Journey to the North Pole, in Cambridge.

Went to the Scott Polar Institute here in Cambridge. You can see records of these amazing voyages and read terrible stiff upper lip last letters from the crew and Scott himself as they froze to death in the bleak snow. oh, and Shakelton too.
Egad.



The place was full of old weird stuff, all quite aged and fascinating.




These things above, they had a huge case of them, were called scrimshaws and they had a beautiful folk quality- but scrim shaws? Who knows.



I always say that boots have a real narrative quality, much more than shoes. I felt fairly convinced of this by these babies.



And well this is just here as proof that you can find Inukshuks anywhere, even in Cambridge. These were made in Canada, 4 inches tall and cost $160.

London

Went down to London to check out my favorite gallery, The National Gallery where you can see the very modern looking painting by Manet. I absolutely love this image, even if it is depicting something fairly tragic.


After the museums had closed, its just time to walk to the streets to catch construction workers just doing nothing but checking out people and then over to Covent Garden to watch insane street performers.

Movie Nights

This past week has been an awesome opportunity for me to chill out with my buddy Chris and catch some fantastic films.

Such as the first film by Ridley Scott, the Duellists I thought the film was a fantastic glimpse into the Romantic period which made paintings like these by Gericault, the French artist and inspiration to the movement, come alive.




Tonight, as luck would have it, the Kubrick film, Barry Lyndon is playing so we get to see it on the big screen.

We also saw a few really hard to watch but fascinating films, Max and Conspiracy- both about behind the scene events in Nazi Germany.

Cambridge

Well I arrived in London after a week in France, determined to eat no more heavy foods, not an easy task here in the land of chips but I have done alright I guess. My friend Chris and I have been biking all over the Cambridge countryside, using these Roman Roads that are great fun as they become really steep at some point and then it is just the highway to the danger zone, if you get what I am saying.



We ended up at this old mansion filled with all kinds of surplus sculptures and architectural elements. This guy was giving me the stink eye.

Christopher Goodwin

This is not a study of a burn out Londoner, no it's Christopher Goodwin the artist, sleeping off a days trip to London.

No relation to the Christopher Goodwin, the artist on WIKI FUR- the wiki of the Furry community.....I did not know they had a community wiki either but that is not surprising.

FUR

Augustine Cloister

Creepy images of Toulouse

When you put this all together, they look like reference images for some outtake in a Stanley Kubrick film: creepy mannequin looking through a window, sculpture watching the viewer, a picasso image/minotaur/harlequin and the circus is coming to town.

I'm gonna thump you one!

Ok, really, I got nothing here, he just reminded me of a wrestler!

Images of Martyred Saints

I really love the weird nature of images like this. When I was in Italy I was obsessed with them, every time I entered a church I looked everywhere for them. Saints with Arabian swords still embedded in their heads, holding the instruments of their own torture and demise. So modern looking really. We all know about Saint Sebastien with his arrows, or St. Lawrence holding the rack he was burnt on, St. Bartholomew holding his flayed skin (but never depicted with no skin on, how does this work? I want to see a muscle only St. Bart!) but buddy with the rock stuck in his head? There are so many good ones!


By the way, St. John Martyr is the one with the rock in the head.
St. Peter Martyr is the one with either the schimtar in the head or just his head split open and bleeding, not too profusely.

Eating portions in France

What you are looking at is a typical trout, for one. My aunt put this on my plate as the starter to my lunch that was to be followed by chicken and artichokes, salad, olives and cornichons.
And then the cheese.
I had to laugh at the size of the thing for lunch, for one, amazingly everyone has a nap in the afternoon.

Random French Guy

Faire les Courses

Buying fresh produce, what they have and the level of knowledge of the variety available is amazing. Cheeses, duck sausages, smoked and dried Margret de Canard. Man it is insane.

La Foire de Toulouse

Wow, I am exhausted, it may be all the eating or the ongoing coverage of the French weekend Rugby coverage- either way, I wanted to post a few images from the Foire, a fair held in the city where they sell all sorts of direct marketing slicers and dicers, miracle brooms and tile cutters.

But they have food...

Blake and a guy at Heathrow

Black must have been drawn a week or more earlier at the Cobourg bar.

Random people in Heathrow

A Bar and Heathrow