Comic mashup of architectural junk, fake artefacts, labels, copies neither-more-nor-less authentic than the originals, ready-mades from our very real present. People in this world, even in dire situations, similarly encrypted by bad jeans, say, or an outdated and ugly camo-pattern headscarf. [Read more]
A suitable public mien, for a man of any age, consists of purpose and mild distraction. What my father taught us as a question of prudence on the mean streets of New York, is also good manners. [Read more]
The first clue should have been the unmistakeable evocation already of ramps, the wild garlic, whiffs of which we got in spring tramping through wet woods in Wales. The second was less ignorable: a few snips on some corn chowder for lunch and we stank until the next morning. [Read more]
A sturdy stockman’s cane, made of ash, octagonal in cross-section, with a rather large crook, the kind of stick used to prod unwilling cattle into a pen or up a chute. [Read more]