Wednesday 19 May 2021

Glen Reddick & Simon Tyrrell - Urban Bonsais Real and Imagined


Welcome to the fifth day of the Urban Bonsais exhibition. 
Don't forget to check out what is happening at the Urban Tree Festival  Urban Tree Festival

Today we have a Bonsai art work from  Glen Reddick and words by Simon Tyrrell

Glen  is a keen bonsai grower, a teacher, Leyton Orient fan and expert bird watcher.

Simon  is a writer and artist whose work celebrates the customary language, marks and symbols people have used to present, protect and promote their community and make sense of the relationships, time and space they share. He’s a founder of The Museum of Futures in Surbiton, has exhibited and performed across London and had a handful of works published. He’s participating in emerging collective PoPoGrou and working on a book.

To a town flâneur


What do you know about being small?


I live, don’t you know, to give notice for that very special circumstance

The prancing chancer’s affordable footprint

In an indeferent dance on amenity’s tip toe


An ancient’s survival is no ancestral accident of critical massing

As cheapened days return and metal oblivion’s viability

Through verdant belt, ever-tightened

And countlessly reckoned with soot rings seared in hate’s fearful archive


Pending deity’s deforestation, do I not more resemble the rock on which I grow

Ether-forged in core’s flame, ocean-quenched, prevailing sum of all the real

What do you reckon?


Any time, what do you know of such living

Taking advantage of mine to make yours?

Still through bole, branch and bough I bud, bloom and blossom

Brooking nothing that doesn’t now really matter


But still unhappy you seem with evolution’s regenerative path

So make of me instead a ladder for the two-peaked mountain of Mars

Mind to no inversion and cast not that lessening shade that tips our axis

For there’s no jest in Gemini’s genes conjugating your destiny

Gendered as sisters we are, to foreshadow masculine endings


Do you really not know how I am as much you

And my species was drawn to a scale par excellence?

So, stand by, for I’ve a plan now


On sun’s fresh foliage

Draw near, kneel, hold your ear close

For no faraway whisper of a moon’s assassin

Let me sing instead your salvation


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