# 25 - Some images from New Orleans # 1

Walking out of the hotel and turning left...

Crossing the road from the hotel

The Mississippi

Trolly car, great way to travel

One of my favourite street bands - they played continuously for 35 minutes with out a break...

Colours and cop cars

Diane getting up close

An icarus figure in the cafe at the NOMA

Pond in the botanical garden

Sculpture in the park

A poetry reading in the park

Bourbon Street at night

The French Quarter - cooking and voodoo

Icarus # 24 - back in the UK

All efforts to get my body clock into UK time seem to have failed as I bombed out at 8 o'clock last night and now here I am, 4 hours on, wondering when the bourbon Street party starts - ochone. Part of the reason is the book I was reading on the plane last night  and then seeing the sun pushing out of the sea to take over the skyline. Isn't the world the most amazing place from every angle? And so I find myself at 1.30 in the morning, strumming a guitar, drinking tea and thinking about reading the book again - Nora Webster, by Colm Toibin, for the interested. But all is ok, Greenwich Meantime will return to my body clock and normality will creep back - that's just the way it is (goodness, sounds like the cue for a song). In the meantime this picture reminds me of another song which I have posted before and seems appropriate here. I am back now writing my 'Boat' project (much needed) and also thinking about the past two weeks with scraps of song lyricss all over the place. Its going to be an extremely busy summer - I can't wait:

# 23 - in New Orleans, USA

"As all of us saw... there is... deep, persistent poverty in this region [with] roots in a history of racial discrimination... We have a duty to confront this poverty with bold action.'' Nope not a scene from Selma (and Martin Luther King) but George W. Bush after the hurricane Katrina (2005), in which over 1800 people died, many because they were poor, elderly or infirm - goodness but that's a tragedy of out of sight out of mind. This is a picture of a diary that I was given permission to photograph.  I am going to leave this post at that - much to ponder.

# 22 - in New Orleans, USA

This sculpture is in the Sculpture Park next to the NOMA, New Orleans Museum of Art. Sadly, it's called, 'Too Late' and is a response to the hurricane Katrina - all too candid, a ladder at an empty window and the house already gone. Its a pity it has to be named 'Too Late' poignant as it is, I mean it could have been 'Just in Time' and more optimistic. Well I thought so, especially since New Orleans has risen from that tragedy, although, of course, many won't get over it. And tomorrow we are going to see the hurricane exhibition in the Presbytère - Louisiana State Museum. I have mixed views about it. Its a historical must see but I like to see artistic responses rather than historical ones. But that's ok, everything is easy in the Big Easy, you take your time, nice and slow, the waitress in the restaurant this morning took my order for scrambled eggs, bacon and grits and asked if I wanted juice, water, bloody mary? 'A bloody mary,' I replied, 'Well its New Orlins, Hun...' Yup she called me 'Hun' and, yes the locals pronounce it, 'New Orlins' - which I rather like - that and being called 'Hun'. Here's a Louisiana boy who ended up in Chicago, damn right I've got the blues...

# 21 - in New Orleans, USA

The Contemporary Arts Center (sic for the English speakers) is a great space for a gallery - this is the view from the second floor (left) but the artwork wasn't great. Except one piece by Radcliffe Bailey. The black head (below left) is just managing to stay above water (as it were) and he is drowning in a sea of piano keys. But as a metaphor, for the slaves coming to New Orleans and the music that followed them down the ages it worked really well for me. Its a big space, twenty square feet or so but very evocative. And I have filmed some performances on the square and on the streets but I have to download them and everything is a bit slow (me too) so I will leave it until I get back to the UK so I can edit them etc. But its been a good, warm strolling down to Lafayette and the CAC. One thing about New Orleans, don't trust the maps, what looks to be five miles on the map turns out to be a five minute walk and what looks like a five minute walk is a left turn at the corner. But all good - I am glad I brought my mandolin because I have been able to work on songs - and somebody even offered me $2 and another said, 'man you sound great...' hey. Happy Monday, this was playing somewhere down the street today:

# 20 - in New Orleans, USA

Day and night in Bourbon Street - this is some town. Today we bought some artwork from around the railings outside St Louis Cathedral - painted on slate which is novel and they are pretty impressive. And this band were top notch, here they are playing Bob Marley's 'Get Up Stand Up' but its raucous and rowdy and tons of pure energy. And last night we traipsed from bar to bar (with our drinks - you can just walk out of one bar with your beer and into another) - they encourage it. And I saw more bands last night than I have seen this year - lots of rhythm and blues and soul music (the soul/blues guys were great) but my favourite were the zydeco guys - oh yay. Today is Sunday, so where to, who knows but Bourbon Street beckons, I reckon...

# 19 - in the USA

And so I left the sunshine, snow, rain, sunshine of Montana for the strangeness of Salt Lake City (see above), where I had a stopover before landing in New Orleans - in the hotel by 1am, not so bad - single taxi  fare of $33 from the airport if anyone is interested. And then this morning we emerged onto St Ann St, right in the heart of the French Quarter for eggs and bacon (well for me). The day promised rain and at first didn't disappoint but soon enough we were strolling down Bourbon Street, dipping in and out of the crazy art shops and generally taking in the view, down to the Mississippi - a dirty brown old river and a far cry from the blue tinged Yellowstone River (or Elk River as the Crow call it). And all is just fine. Tomorrow we will explore properly, today was just guddling about, listening to the music on the street corners and taking in the vibe of the French Quarter that is so unique in US culture. Its been some trip; so many differences, so many different ideas and places and Montana snow to the humidity and mosquitoes (already) on New Orleans - phew, good job I packed for all the options. But one thing Montana and New Orleans seem to have in common is this kind of music - and today I saw, for the first time - an instrument I have to have. Its a mandobanjo, or a banjolin, or a banjo-mandolin... whatever, it sounded just the job. And I bet these guys have seen one - just like the band playing on the corner as we walked back to the hotel:

# 18 - in the USA

So remember that snow scene and the picture of this little cottage - well the snow has gone and the cottage is basking here in what is left of a splendid sun that has been shining all day - all day, I mean how is someone supposed to dress for Montana? I awoke f...f...freezing this  morning, showered and pulled on two jumpers... walked to the study the Faculty provided for me and then undressed (well almost). It was a case of all change. And then I went for a walk for coffee and breakfast and I came across this cultural artefact - which I have named 'Icarus goes to college'. A couple of cliches in his manner of dress, the glasses and the mortar board and scroll, but hey, a boy has to fit in (and I can confirm he looks nothing like a billings student). But if you look carefully - the wings are still intact. Today has been a fascinating one. I have been working and speaking and generally wondering about lots of writing and stuff. And I met with the immensely kind David Craig over a lecture by the Billings writer-in-residence and extremely likable Virginia Spragg who co-wrote An Unfinished Life (2005) featuring Robert Redford, Morgan Freeman and Jennifer Lopez (whose class I jumped into - no not Jennifer Lopez but Virginia's) and Virginia's husband/co-writer, the novelist/writer, Mark Spragg, of Where Rivers Change Direction memoir and Bone Fire and the Fruit of Stone, along with Tami and Jim and Bernie Quetchenbach and his  poet partner who I mistakingly called Carol but is closer to Keira... and  oh but I hope she will forgive my not really knowing the spelling because they are coming to the UK (hopefully with a book of poetry) and then there was the sculptor Andrea and Bill who gave me a book on New Orleans and 'don't mess with the power-lifting Sheryl' and as it happens when you spend quicktime with everyone it just zips by, you lose track and names and locations and then you have photographs and memories. And then there is the story of this sculpture of a horse which even looks digital here, but is what looks like tarnished stainless steel (if there can be such a thing) its a remarkable piece. Even in this short time, even though I have engaged with a lot of students and talked about narrative non-fiction, songwriting, scriptwriting, writing for children, I have felt energised and engaged with creative people in a way that has been inspiring, and that has been a real joy and even as I write this (and I may be guilty of betraying a confidence) but David, if you read this, those letters (you know the ones I am talking about) would surely be a wonderful thing to be read as a collection (thank you for telling me about them - they have given me an idea). And then, as the day drew to a close, for the first time (that I know of) I drank a 'corn' beer... the snow has gone, as normal, the sun came out as normal and dropped away again, as normal, the wind changed, as normal, the world kept turning, as normal, and I chased this up as another good day; and as I get ready to leave Billings for New Orleans (where there are flash floods - ochone) I will never forget... I wonder if Billings ever met The Unthanks: 

# 17 - in the USA

Montana from the air

Spring snow in Montana

University of Montana, Billings Campus

Yesterday I wrote about the Lewis and Clark mapping of the river route west across America. Of course they didn't have aeroplanes - Orville and Wilbur were not even a twinkle in their momma's eyes. But if they did have planes this (top picture) is what they would have seen; such spectacular terrain! But I have come to discover that Montana is a world of change. Everything changes, last night I strolled over to the Lewis and Clark lecture in shirt sleeves. By the time I left a gale was blowing and then at 3.45 in the morning we had snow - good job I packed a jumper. But I was thinking, what must it have been like in the eighteenth century, into the early nineteenth when Lewis and Clark were mapping the terrain. What must it have been like for the settlers, the seekers of a new life in the new world that became the United States? The hardship, the cold, the dangers - and even Clark go his horses stolen while charting the river. But its all very pretty too - though its turned wet and it will be interesting to see how things pan out as it gets colder overnight. And now, this evening I have been to a film and a talk on Crow spirituality and  about the Pryor Mountains as a Crow sacred landscape, by Crow elder, Burton Pretty on Top. Which was incredibly fascinating - especially the storytelling and how the story seem to start but never end, because it is ongoing. And the links to life and a spiritual idea of how life is governed from a Crow perspective. And I also found out the Crow call Yellowstone River, the Elk River - I guess for obvious reasons. But it was a really interesting departure to be listening about a particular Native American Crow culture (he called themselves Indians btw). It left me much to ponder. And now its time to wind down and read - I wonder what the weather will bring tomorrow - I have my Hawaiian shirt ready (well you never know - this is Montana). And when I am winding down I like to have music on. When your iPod is on shuffle, sometimes a tune comes back to you, after having been away for a while,  and so it was with this from Levon Minassian. The instrument he is playing is called Mey (by Turkish people) or Duduk (by Armenian and Kurdish people) or also Balaban (in Azerbaijan and Iran). I like to know these things. Turn it up, take five minutes and let it wash over you... like musical snow, magical and mysterious, unfolding, as Coleridge might have said, the secret ministry of frost...

The Frost performs its secret ministry,
Unhelped by any wind. The owlet's cry
Came loud—and hark, again! loud as before.

# 16 - in the USA

Springtime in Billings, the pink and white apple blossom is out in spectacular fashion. Today I spent the morning talking about writing song lyrics and it was great fun - especially telling them about the song that took forty years to finish, oh and about the student who gave me the line, 'nobody wants to cry...' (long story). But back to the 'divided by a common language' theme, it was a class just like any other I have taken with undergraduates, the students all sit as far away from you as they can, keeping a secure distance and avoiding eye contact, but slowly warm up and take part, which is always great - and they even got my accent. Later in the early evening I was off to a lecture on an incredible 3,700-mile expedition of the Corps of Discovery led by Captains Meriwether Lewis and William Clark, which generated a gold mine of information about the West and the all important 'water route' to its coast, circa 1806. There is also the great map of the West that Lewis and Clark produced, which was a charge from the then President, Thomas Jefferson in 1804. The journey is still being felt two centuries later, particularly in the Yellowstone Valley (near to here) where Clark chronicled the exploration along the Yellowstone River. And then as I walked with renewed pioneer spirit, back to my room, in the alumni lodge (which I swear has a bed made for a giant - honestly, when I sit on it my feet don't touch the floor and it could sleep four of me) but back to the story, as I walked back to the lodge, I was accosted by a handful of wild turkeys - nope not the alcoholic booze, but five or six of them all gobbling away. And then a deer nonchalantly strolled by without giving me a second glance. Beautiful it was, a reddy brown with eyes the colour of an eclipsed moon and enough antlers to say, 'I'm not scared o' no turkeys boy...' Well neither am I, I am in an American frame of mind - I love this song and the performance, Marlon Brando, Pocahontas and me...

# 15 - in the USA

Denver to Montana and the view from the air is astonishing and I will post a couple over the coming week. Have been in the USA since Friday and the two countries divided by a common language is there and not. We share so much in terms of culture, popular culture and so on but some of the differences are marked. But then again Oklahoma is different from Montana, I am in the refectory right now and no one is wearing a baseball cap - whereas in Oklahoma, baseball cap or even stetson wearing seems to be a major essential when eating. I am wearing neither while drinking my morning coffee and having just come here from Oklahoma I feel quite naked - I guess I will get used to it. Getting used to the USA too, for a place so full of bad news stories it really is a pleasure being here. The people are warm and friendly and nothing ever seems to be too much trouble. I was even picked up at Billings airport by the Poet Laureate (well Tami Haaland is a colleague and friend) - and her ambition to get 300,000 miles on the clock of her car is going strong - reminds me of this long and winding song by Gillian Welch, I dream a highway:

# 14

Happy Easter, especially to Abbi who is many miles away - and has a head full of questions. Now all I need is a hill to roll it down... come Thursday we will be car dancing to this:

# 13

The selfie is a curious thing, even accidentally. I mean is this a self portrait or a picture of Michelangelo Pistolotto's Man With Yellow Pants? A picture of him looking at me looking at him in New York's Metropolitan - and then see the woman to the right she is looking at me too, just curious I guess, or even waiting to take her own picture. Strangers in a New York City gallery, a common enough sight. I am off to the USA this week coming - not New York but Oklahoma, then Billings in Montana, then New Orleans. A whirlwind of flights, eight in all to be precise, but I am looking forward to the trip. I have restrung the mandolin, loaded up the kindle, loaded up the iPod and even bought a new notebook and pencil, all will be fine - I will post pics of the trip. Oh, and Happy Easter - I think I miss my mother more this weekend than I have for a long while. Easter Saturday night was about painting boiled eggs with my mum, brother and sisters, and Sunday was a picnic to roll them down the side of a hill - usually up the Granites (which will mean little to most). Been a while since I painted an egg and rolled it down a hillside; nostalgia often takes us back to a place that never really existed, but wild horses couldn't drag me away - this is a yet to be released version of an old stones track - I prefer the original with Keef's electric guitar laced through it but this is worth a listen.