Wednesday, April 20, 2005

peas

Our first peas: Little sweeties popping out into my palm and bouncing with spring effervescence, only half of them making it to the boiling pot.

Podding them meditatively with a glass of white wine in the early evening, I remember how they are sold for the fast lane in Sainsburys - ten of them separated from their natural brothers and sisters, sprayed for colour maintenance and stuck in a stifling plastic bag where they will probably die from over-pricing.

Then I glance at our new little white box whose space-age green flashing pea-eyes and antennae mean Julian and I can finally be on line at the same time in different rooms. Now, when I get up in the morning, I can open the kitchen door and let in the morning light instead of maintaining web-darkness; I can sing whilst doing the washing up instead of maintaining web-silence; I will not feel the awful web-absence of being in the presence of someone 'online' .....Marvellous!

Julian can msn me from the studio:

"darling..."
"yes darling"
"what's for lunch?"
"dunno but you're making it! I just bought some asparagus so i thought asparagus omelette?"
"actually I just had twelve pancakes while you were out"
"Yoou didn't! Twelve pancake Merrow-Smith!"

It certainly beats shouting.

My head is splitting with what strange lives we lead. We are so connected to nature here and life goes at a walking pace. However, the ethernet is whirring at a squillion gigawotsits a nanosecond, bringing more information than we could possibly need into our pea-podding quiet.

Who are we, really? Are we merely living the illusion of being in harmony with nature when in fact all we are doing is blogging and downloading it? I get scared sometimes that it's all a great whopper.

Luckily we both have our art. That is real. It takes place in slow intangible time. It cannot be rushed or imitated. Perhaps I simply have to hold the tension between broad band and broad bean; perhaps this particular challenge is a modern version of the age-old search for the middle way.


4 Comments:

Blogger Jean said...

Oh spot on! All my dreams of moving to the country end with 'but only if there's broadband',and I'm all too aware of the contradictions and occasionally feel dreadful about them. As individuals, the best we can do is try to be thoughtful and self-critical, I guess. Totally purist opting out is only the answer if that's what will make you happy. And as you say, daily contact with your art, with whatever an individual knows for sure is right for them, is surely a pretty good support in trying to steer the sanest course in a not-very-sane world.

7:23 PM  
Blogger secret agent josephine said...

amen!

11:34 PM  
Blogger granny p said...

Oh yes; exactly. I find it just as ridiculous to live on my island, surrounded by sea and growing things and sit endlessly on this machine exploring other people's virtual - to me - realities. On the other hand your blog's an artform in its own way. It really is. Believe it. And any sort of writing is little black marks on paper which describes the world and detaches you from it at the same time. I envy painters - who have tangible materials to work with and who have to keep on looking out.

Anyway I will now leave this and go for a short walk.

Thanks..

10:31 AM  
Blogger ruth said...

thank you g.p. please have a walk by the sea for me it's the ony thing my heart still yearns for (apart from haagen dazs key lime sorbet and cream)

10:48 AM  

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