Showing posts with label the doors (hidden). Show all posts
Showing posts with label the doors (hidden). Show all posts

13 February 2016

The "Ulysses, read by Jim Morrison" Show

Every Friday I do a radio show on Source FM in Falmouth, called Cosmic's Radio Show or The Cosmic Art Show (why have one name, right?).
It started life as an arts show and kept the theme, even though we often go off-piste!

Here's the listen-again podcast from last night's show, where reading a book by James Joyce turns the studio into a Doors tribute act! with Tam Johnstone, Mat Roberts, Keef Purple and the legendary George from Penzance!



01 April 2011

Introducing: The Door Of Perception!


This is a new drawingonthings workshop where spontaneous doodles are drawn on a freestanding door by any number of people present.
Sounds simple. But, is it?

Yesterday I took"The Door Of Perception" to The Eden Project's EDEN CAFE in St Austell's new White River Place for local young people visiting the cafe to draw on as part of a Barefoot Games workshop. The ideas and images that emerge will be discussed and used in further community projects and activities.


Why "Door Of Perception"?
Since William Blake inscribed the immortal lines in his poem The marriage of Heaven and Hell into a slab of molten granite on top of a ferocious volcano somewhere around the dawn of time, man has held the humble door as a totem symbol of our understanding of the universe. Blake:

"When the doors of perception are cleansed, man will see things as they truly are, infinite."

Author and creative adventurer Aldous Huxley read Blake during his A-levels in the 1940s, and used the term for the title of a book in the 50's. Rumor has it that he gave a copy of his book to a young Jim Morrison at a party on Venice Beach ten years later.

Jim was looking for a slogan at the time as he had recently began printing t-shirts with ink and a simple silk screen press he had bought from Andy Warhol who was recently at Venice on his summer vacation from New York.

Jim went on to sell thousands of CLEAN THE DOORS t-shirts to people on the beach that summer. The slogan had CLEAN written in small, red letters and THE DOORS in big, bold, black capitals underneath.
A somewhat bizarre motto for a celebrated "genius" to come up with, but the hippies loved it!

Anyway, to cut a long story short, the red ink Warhol had sold Jim was a dodgy batch he had made while experimenting with tomato soup, and it faded in the sun!

Morrison was in an unknown band at the time called The Chairs, and they were going nowhere, fast! When the band were looking for a new name, keyboard player Ray Manzarek pointed to the hippies walking round in t-shirts with just THE DOORS written on the front in bold, black helvetica font... and the rest is history.

So it seemed to me perfect sense to carry a phrase with such lineage forward into a new era.

02 September 2009

GET STONED WITH COSMIC JAGGER This thursday nite, perranporth



i used to do some stones gigs with very competent musician friends, we were called the Cosmic Stones (previously to that, the Rolling Pancakes- its a long story!) the line-up changed quite a bit and lots of very loud, late and heady nights were had by all.

so last week i get a call from bono.. "you wanna do a gig?". "sure, bono! i'll be there!! give my love to ireland and the edge" . "its not that bono.. its ryan bono jones from the hitchcock rules..".

it was too late, i had said ill do it.. and just because this bono doesnt wear wrap-around sunnies and hang out with handlebar mustachios.. actually he might! ..but its still no reason to go back on my word.

This Thursday, 3rd sept
Seiners, Perranporth
8pm-late am
down by the beach car park
lots of other stuff too, cheap beer, loose women, rock n roll excess, tv's out the window.. you get the idea



09 January 2009

i dont always draw my hands


i don't always draw my hands
perhaps i should
as it puts me into a 
state of mind
i don't know what treasures
ill find

the long corridor
so far away
calls me and somewhere
i see where we call
to each other
loudly

in the vacuum of space
our desires symbolize
life's simple pleasures
in front of our
wide open
primate eye

knocking about the universe
like a run-away bride
we cackle at the keeper
and haunt him
in his hard boots

shut out any darkness
that might let any care
or hold stronger than
the course of our 
distant memories

fucking chancers
on a lump of wet rock
dodging comets 
burning 
bleeding
cackling


copyright cosmic 2009