The meaning of loaf, the universe and everything.

This week we go back, way way back. Back to the beginning. Back before there was The Man with Bread on his Face, aka Captain Breadbeard, who was previously known as Doughface, there was a kitchen with some ingredients and God – the baker of all things.

So what do we really know about the beginning? Here are some quotes…

“In the beginning the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.” Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

“In the beginning God created cake and bread. Now the bread was formless and raw. And God said, “Let there be a light and airy dough,” and there was a dough. God saw that the light and airy dough was good, and he separated an egg from the yoke, added flour, yeast, sugar, salt, olive oil and water to create more light dough. God called the light dough “tasty” and the stodgy and dense ones he called “experiments.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day.” The Man with Bread on His Face, The Baker’s Bible. 

Ok, just one more quote (a little deeper this time) and then photos of me with bread ingredients on my face to balance it out. I’ve been thinking this week about the essential ingredients in creating art and what I can possible contribute of any note – whether that is writing a play, painting a picture or performing a song. Conclusion, if it’s worth anything, it should at least be honest. Beyond that there is a lot of subjective discussion on quality and accuracy, but the fact it is personal and honest cannot be taken away.

“I am calling it the Holy Theatre for short, but it could be called The Theatre of the Invisible-Made-Visible: the notion that the stage is a place where the invisible can appear has a deep hold on our thoughts. We are all aware that most of life escapes our senses: a most powerful explanation of the various arts is that they talk of patterns which we can only begin to recognize when they manifest themselves as rhythms or shapes. We observe that the behaviour of people, of crowds, of history, obeys such recurrent patterns. We hear that trumpets destroyed the walls of Jericho , we recognize that a magical thing called music can come from men in white ties and tails, blowing, waving, thumping and scraping away. Despite the absurd means that produce it, through the con­crete in music we recognize the abstract, we understand that ordinary men and their clumsy instruments are transformed by an art of possession. We may make a personality cult of the conductor, but we are aware that he is not really making the music, it is making him—if he is relaxed, open and attuned, then the invisible will take possession of him; through him, it will reach us.” Peter Brook, The Holy Theatre

 

Honest Ingredients. 

Thanks to Joel, Jackson, Annie, Hannah, Josh, Ben and Willow for administering water, olive oil, salt, sugar, yeast, flour and egg to my beard earlier today. And Andrew for the photos. Official collaborators for this week’s images.

 

Emma’s Dilemma.

And now for something completely different! I wrote a piece a while back about a girl who accidentally turns herself into a sheep. In the name of learning some Abelton basics I brought it to life this week. So, a first draft to share with you…

 

Golden Oldie.

Whilst on the topic (and in a similar vein) next up is the song I wrote for Annie (my wife) before we were going out. I handed it to her on a CD instead of a Valentine’s Day card, and the rest (I’m not sure how exactly!) is history…

 

Phantom Thread.

And finally to say, if you haven’t seen Phantom Thread at the cinema, you should. No spoilers or review here, just to say it is a Paul Thomas Anderson film that you can take your mum to. She might not enjoy it, but you can take her. Unlike his other films, brilliant as they are. Unless your mum likes that sort of film, in which case you can watch those too. To be fair, I can only really speak for my own mother. I should end there, I’m now mostly attempting not to offend mothers. They’re great. I’m married to one in fact. Not my own mother of course, my wife. She became a mother after we met. As one does. Ok, stopping now.

 

 

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