the road north is to appear as a book, published by Shearsman, in October 2014. In the year or so after we completed the journey, Ken and I reviewed our days on the hosomichi and played over the themes that had emerged. A long poem emerged, different in character to the artist blog; mossier, more of a tour than a log, just as Basho's Oku is a carefully constructed work of retrospect, written in the guise of a diary.
We have also recorded an abridged version of the poem as a free download, with sound design by Geoff Sample, performed by myself, Ken and Lila Matsumoto – released this the Autumn. Elements of the road north archive have appeared in the Walk On touring exhibition, and the poem is being performed as part of Remote Performances, a series of radio broadcasts on Resonance FM, at Outlandia.
The cover image for the book is adapted from one of the pieces I made in collaboration with Tomohiko Ogawa; it seemed to capture the splicing of an imagined Japan and real Scotland that we journeyed towards.
The first of two selections posted here describe gardens: the first at Falkland Palace, where I spent an afternoon in the orchard, while Ken climbed East Lomond; the second, the singer Annie Briggs's garden at Kilmiddlefern.
Falkland was our pair for Ueno, where Basho begins the journey described in Oku-no-hosomichi, saying farewell to his friends among cherry blossoms.
Annie Briggs was our Tosai, a reclusive and valued friend of Basho's.
Falkland was our pair for Ueno, where Basho begins the journey described in Oku-no-hosomichi, saying farewell to his friends among cherry blossoms.
Annie Briggs was our Tosai, a reclusive and valued friend of Basho's.
Falkland, Fife
Basho’s
Ueno
is
Sonia’s orchard
cupped
in the hollow
at
the centre of it all
leaving
behind olives
almonds and
peaches
Sonia found
herself
this
cottage garden
and
northern view
settling
down snug
where the
heir of air
is flecked
by blossom
falling in
pinches
she’ll soon
sow
yarrow
button-headed scabious
moon-rayed oxeye
lady's
smock
lilac
with a liking for
the
Maspie's damp
she never
forgets
the winter
prune
perched up
the ladder
shaping a
canopy
of cropped
Ys
she’s added
a millennial
scattering
of natives
to the old
commercials,
small
stunted malus
with nary a
petal to shed
Forfar
Early
Julyan
Lass
o’ Gowrie
The
Bloody Ploughman
White
Paradise
Sonia is the gardener at Falkland Palace; the Maspie Burn flows through the orchard; the apples are old Scottish varieties.
Kilmiddlefern, Argyll
Basho’s
old recluse called Tosai at Fukui (50)
is
our Annie Briggs at Kilmiddlefern
his
yugao, hechima, keito and hahakigi
her
sunflowers, bugloss, weld and gourds
in Annie's
garden
nectarines
ripen
against the
warmth
of the wall
grown from
a stone
carried
from the old
Tea-Garden
at the end
of the
track to Gylen
an array of
scallions
drying in
the porch
preserving
flavor
between
clammy skins
that last
harsh frost
stayed the
longest
stealing
the blossom
from the
plum
For many years Annie and her husband Pat used to run a bunk-house & Tea Garden on the island of Kerrera
In the early episodes of our journey we searched for 'Shirakawa', the barrier through which Basho enters the 'Highlands', the auld countrie. Ken and I wandered through way-glens and hosomichi – the wee B roads – of Perthshire, from Sma' Glen up to the Falls of Dochart. We felt closest to the portal of Shirakawa in the heartlands around Dunira and St Fillan's Hill.
if you're travelling
in the north country fair,
where the wind hangs heavy
on the border-line…
John Waite, ‘Girl from the North Country’
anticipation each day mounting… (13)
people ask us the way
to the Shirakawa Barrier
and we reply, take it easy,
the Shirakawa Barrier
is everywhere
the map’s watershed
is Shirakawa,
reading the names of
burns running south-east
allts flowing north-west
lovers' beeches’
gully-carved hearts and initials
are Shirakawa,
an intimacy
between settlement
and elsewhere
Comrie's confluence of
Lednock, Earn and Ruchill
is Shirakawa:
Edo to the east
in the orderly market-town,
Oku to the west
in twilit deer, pheasants
lacking road-sense,
tumbledown gardens
and close-ranked pines
any wee road
where your fingers
brush meadowsweet verges
is Shirakawa,
when you let the wheel turn
through the glen
with all your attention
on the encounters and minor
dramas of PAS-
SING PLACES
any one-street village with
shops stocking FANCY GOODS
and a butcher’s that sells
a new brand of oatcakes
is Shirakawa
any clicked latch
of a gate that
makes a space
for things to come
is Shirakawa
The beeches carved with lover names were seen by the River Lednock and River Bran.
Finally, a more retrospective episode, considering some of the walks I made that year, their pains and pleasures.
I take a long look
back at rocky wastes
and tussocky paths
from Pillow Hill
so long a stranger
struggling with
the stinging lactic
that shadowed
so many walks
I’ve found other
ways to wander
in the wilds
other ways to be
where Suzanne said
I could never belong
sharing the warmth
of Ken’s quiet company
or sitting by the fire
counting 6,
7, 8, no, that’s 9 hours
he's been gone
plodding up Schiehallion
and down Slioch
carrying my eyes with him
while I’ve walked
along the old paths
at whatever pace
I’m able
running my fingernails
around the contour-lines
gauging the incline
and fatigue
that will result
letting myself wonder
what would I have been
well, a climber, father to?
would we could
live our lives
as a novel
read backwards
secure in our ending
as a tied rope
or taut stay
each strand untwisting
a moment
tense with shock
giddy for joy
when love becomes
our delirious ending
we slowly un-wind
to the tight knot
of that familiar
difficult beginning
would we could glimmer
the perfect form
of an idea
emerging complete
in its own right
from out some vague
insubstantial object
only every now
and then we may
be brave enough to dare
a handstand
emptying out our
pockets, seeing
inside a world
turned upsidedown
Pillow Hill, from R. L. Stevenson, 'Land of Counterpane'; lactic acid, symptom of Myalgic Encephalomyelitis; Suzanne Piper, post-urban artist.
