Tag Archives: spirit

Boundary

6 Dec

Peter Maarten Hendrik Littlewood was born 22.7.58 in Kano in the north of Northern Nigeria south of the Sahara Desert. He grew up in the heart of Derbyshire, by the river Derwent.

It’s a long way from there to here.

Yesterday I bought a ham sandwich from Eugene on the train travelling up to London to visit my grandson, Joseph.

A mere 2 1/2 hour train ride.

Eugene is from Sierra Leone and was surprised when I told him I had lived as a boy on the hill above Freetown.

Freetown was main departure point for slaves traded in West Africa. I learned to use a hammer here. And never to judge a book by its cover.

The old map of The Peak District shows natural and man-made boundaries – if you are adventurous, you can breach them.

However, have to know how and more importantly…..when. It’s the same with the boundaries within people, particularly children.

Saint Nicholas brought grandson, Joseph some gifts last night – stuck them in his blue wellies.

His first favourite was a book Clare, his Nain, all about trucks. Press the button to match the truck noise. Perfect!

His mum and dad are just beginning to think about choosing a school. They are protective of Joseph’s boundaries. They need to be.

I was about 6 years old, when I was enrolled in a primary school in Matlock, Derbyshire. I was placed in  a mixed-age ‘remedial’ class.

They did not know what to do with me really.

On the first day of term, in 1964 I was paraded in front of the class and introduced  as ‘Hank’ Littlewood from Africa.

The teacher then urged my class mates to ask me questions.

First question:

Girl “Why aren’t you black?”

Me “Because my Mam washes me in Domestos”

2nd ‘Question’:

Boy: “Have you ever seen a snake?”

Me, ‘Yes we had Green Mambas in the garden in Takoradi, but my pet Mongoose, Pitypet always scared them off.’

Not the wisest of responses for someone new to a provincial school.

Very clever, but thick, as my wife would say – fairly good description of someone with BiPolar Type 1 Disorder.

I had lowered draw bridges and was ‘asking for trouble’.

During that first introduction, several boundaries had been crossed …. & breached – by the teacher. Her actions & invitation my new classmates – had sleighted my castle walls.

In Ghana school was totally different. I was unaware of the difference between black children and me, we just played football together and laughed a lot, because they were my friends.

The Derbyshire kids taught me the difference between black and white that very same day, at break time.

I was surrounded by kids shouting

“You’re a white N&%%@R!”

I kid you not.

And, in Hegley’s own words, I ‘got it’ for being me – ‘Back in the Playground Blues‘.

By the end of the school term, my mother was getting a bit worried about my prospects for survival.

Her funny little boy had become introverted.

So Mam recruited the services of her younger half brother, Maarten, to help.

He had just finished his National Service in the Dutch Army as the Colonel’s Jeep Driver. Clever lad.

To me he was like a God.

He took me for a long walk to the playground near our house and we had a man to man chat.

He said, “Look Henk, most people don’t understand you, and it is no good trying to be clever, or talk yourself out of trouble. Some people only understand one thing.”

‘What’s that?’ I asked.

“This” and he showed me his fist. “You have to ‘whoof’ them with this”.

I discovered Mars. Maarten, my middle name. Yang.

Next day, when one of my class mates yelled ‘Hank, Hank! Wank, Wank!”, I whoofed him. I whoofed him good. Mam met me at the school gate, bloody, but unbowed.

Uncle Maarten had taught me how to establish some of my own boundaries.

My grandfather – Opa – taught me how to play chess using the beautiful mini game Fox and Hounds at about the same time on his old box wood set, a great game for teaching a child the importance of boundaries and rules. He would always point out blunders as I made them, so I learned fast.

We moved on to chess after that, and every day in the summer holidays I would play a game with him, after a piece of cake and a glass of squash, but only after I had helped my Oma Yo do some housework.

It appears in an art show I am opening with Diana Spencer at Yorkshire Artspace in Sheffield. (Some of her work substitutes mine for artistic reasons).

I made Opa’s chess set when I was 11, in my first year at grammar school, with the help of my favourite teacher, Master of Woodwork and Technical Drawing, Mr Paulson. Yoda.

The game above is the Queen’s Gambit (white), a powerful attacking opening relying on a pawn sacrifice to gain control of the centre of the board. Black must defend well.

As my dad used to say – when dealing with the gentler sex, always play for a gentleman’s draw.

Chess is a thing of boundaries and rules, and yet infinite possibility. It is the game of War.

Maps, on the other hand, are of topographic things, they have real meaning. They are vital in war.

Both are spaces in which Time is altered, because must employ our Imagination.

The best warriors do not need to fight for they have already disarmed us.

Bring your boys up to understand sacrifice but give your girls the weapons, the keys are theirs to claim.

Peter with the two keys: one to heaven and one to hell. In most depictions they are identical (gold or silver/white or black). Your choice –

Do you want to ‘”Phone a friend?”

Would you prefer to “Ask the audience ?”

I chose 50/50 ….. to walk the path, very carefully.

Merry Christmas One and All

Three

4 Jul

Mondrian's tryptych

I have always been a fan of Piet Mondriaan’s work. His triptych ‘Evolution’ was painted in 1910 before the Great War and was his response to the idea that a knowledge of God could come about through intuition alone (Theosophy) because we, ourselves are part of a universal creative force.

I used to visit ‘Evolution’ at the Gemeentemuseum in The Hague with my Oma Hartje as a boy. Like all good grandparents she was a profound influence on my early years and  I guess she opened my eyes to the symmetry of ‘threes’, a love of the colour blue with a dash of yellow or orange and the delights of ‘people watching’.

My other Dutch grandparent, Jhr C.A. Van de Poll, taught me how to play chess, he was immensely strong and he liked driving sports cars. Three pretty important things for a boy.

I always believed he could drive a screw into timber using only his thumb nail  until I realised he concealed a small coin between forefinger and thumb. He was a bit of a joker.

Opa had a strong connection to three too, for upon his family crest there are three diamonds.

Poll-wapen

I remember accompanying Opa, my mother and brother to a specialist jeweller where, with great ceremony he declared that she was to have her own signet ring specially made for her.

She chose a blood stone. Her father said to her: “You are the only person in my family worthy of the title ‘Knight’. You are the bravest and boldest of us all”. No small accolade from a self professed, old school Chauvinist.

My mother was indeed more of a ‘man’ than any bloke I have ever met. As hard as nails, super clever, an artist.

She forged my rational mind, encouraged me to be observant, and taught me self sufficiency. Sharp.

Yet no blade has utility without a haft. My father was the handle upon which my existence turned. He gave me my handiness, my daft sense of fun and my unquiet mind.

This month I will have been on this planet for 60 years. “Nothing but a fart in eternity” my mother would have said.

When I asked my father what he wanted for his birthday he said “To wake up son, to wake up”.

Some years ago, my wife said to me “I’m an orphan now” when both her parents passed away in the same year. One of my clients put it another way – he described the feeling of losing both parents as “like having the roof blow off one’s house”.

I am beginning to understand their point of view.

But we do we really lose our parents when they are both gone? Is there not a trinity for each of us?

In the Christian pantheon The Holy Trinity (a triptych sine qua non),  summarises the relationship between God – The Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost:

Trinity summary

The parent is father to the child, who through the spirit is father again.

And long before this paternalistic hubris was formulated, the ‘three’ was symbolically potent in pagan folklore which is fundamentally female; as the Virgin, Mother and Crone, summarised in the triskelion. Parthenogenesis – virgin birth.

trinity-knot-2

The ‘orphan’ realises that when the roof blows off because there are no physical parents left, it is then that she/he becomes parent to themselves.

 

From this inheritance we understand the meaning of Spirit, and the need to show it.

Yamaguchi

 

Gaia

13 Jun

Neried

photo credit: Alan Howden

Gaia was the name the ancient Greeks gave to the elemental Goddess of the Earth. She was the mother of Kronos – the God of Time. In 1979 the name was appropriated by the polymath James Lovelock to describe his novel idea that Earth herself behaved like a ‘living’ organism – capable of regulating her own climate through gross perturbation: Gaia, a new look at life on Earth.

In 1979 I was a final year student of Zoology – I thought James Lovelock’s book was sensational. The idea that the Earth’s biota (all living organisms on the planet), the chemistry of inorganic cycles and the physics of the atmosphere all powered by the sun, could form part of a gigantic coherent negative feedback system simply blew my mind.

Negative feedback, the basis of biology and life-chemistry expanded to encompass Earth.

We humans live within a constantly changing environment. Night and day,  cold and heat, moisture and dryness, from pole to pole through temperate climes to the tropics all these geographical locations exert significant physical changes on the organisms that live there. Vertebrate animals – particularly mammals, have developed efficient ways of regulating their internal environment to maintain the best working conditions for the proteins within their cells. Proteins – enzymes and structural molecules – require very narrow parameters of temperature, salt concentration, pH and so on to work at all, otherwise they become ‘denatured‘ (permanently damaged).

We call this cellular ‘fighting back against change’ Homeostasis:

“the maintenance of metabolic equilibrium within an animal by tendency to compensate for disrupting changes”

In March this year, with the help of Yorkshire Artspace I was given permission to set up my oak Ruskin Sculpture on the roof of Persistence Works in Sheffield. To organise an artistic event with contemporary dancer, Simone Thompson. There was no script and no direction, just a few creative humans having an open dialogue around a strange structure on a roof top. Simone brought her own music to dance to:

I’d seen Simone perform at a street fayre in Sheffield in 2015 with her students and was struck by the energy and vitality she drew from her young students and her own wild, eclectic performance when she treated us too her own extemporised dance.

I guess I wanted to create a living substrate – in equilibrium – that would allow us to create something that was dynamic, rooted in the environment and a celebrating of life.

To live in harmony with the Earth and with each other is the single greatest challenge of our age. If we don’t we will perish.

“Nature favours those organisms which leave the environment in better shape for their progeny to survive. James Lovelock”

Spirit

19 Jun

Image

Jazz is learning how to make a spatula on a shave horse using a draw knife. Her brother George is pictured here shaping a piece of Rowan with a carpenter’s axe for a spoon blank.

Image

These photographs were kindly sent to me by the mum of these lovely children – Lynn. In so doing she has given me an insight into how all of us learn.

At first I was struck by the look of concentrated delight on the little girl’s face as she let me help her pull the draw knife to shape her spatula – I was sat right behind her so I had no idea what thoughts were crossing her mind, or how she was taking the experience. Then I realised just how big I am in comparison to her, and this is echoed in the shot of George who is manfully struggling with an axe which I wield nearly every day (as a natural extension of my arm), on a chopping block that is clearly too big for him.

I could have chosen to miniaturise the experience for these youngsters, but I wanted to make my demonstration as real as possible. In so doing I hoped to be the bridge from the unfamiliar, and faintly scary, to the commonplace and useful: using real tools in the correct way to make really useful things.

I remember long ago an old teacher saying to me that Education was about taking a person from a position of safety to a position of ‘danger’ by helping them to conquer their fear. I would add to that, and say, anyone wanting to teach must find the source of their skill and generosity (for this is the true spirit of education) by acknowledging their true nature.

Teaching is a social enterprise which involves trust. Parents invest an immense amount of trust in teachers, which is a fact often overlooked by professionals in their hunt for better grades, greater performance, compliance with inspections and professional advancement. This trust is a gift which should be acknowledged.

We often forget that in the act of teaching we ourselves are being taught, Lynn, through her trust and generosity has showed me a reflection of myself I rarely get to see – true contentment.

Thank you!

x

H