DAMFINO

London 2012

Prohibited and restricted items include:

• Tents
• Big hats
• Balls
• A lot of food
• Political statements 

Dang they’re all my favourite things.

Monkberry, Outsiders

Rawr. Stomp stomp. 

Waddya want from me?

I entered this into the National Poetry Competition. I didn’t win.

I remember
on my back in a field in Spalding
with split ends of dry grass cruelly teasing my neck
and music dully strumming at my ears like bees,
beneath a winking burrow of guttering stars
that look not, as in California, like peppery crumbs of glass catching light
nor, as in London, like worn pin-pricks in a heavy stage curtain, 
but like a deep dish of spice and sugar
upturned gracelessly onto a tablecloth,
I witnessed a parade of falling meteors.

One, so thick and slow it could have been a finger run through treacle,
turned everything the colour of packed snow for as long as its burly tail hung in the air.
On my back on Spalding’s flat ground that, tripped from a hefty flash before my time
and rotating slowly below the gleaming night sky,
felt like nothing more than wet earth 
turfed from a back garden kickabout onto the kitchen window, 
smearing slowly down the shiny, double-glazed limits of experience and
gazing incomprehensibly at the muggy, candied glow of the other side,
all I could glean was chalky material so precious that it ignited upon impact with our world.

The meteors did not not climb, reach, build or act 
but fell.
And on my back I knew what it was to fall. 
Because we did find a use for conkers that fall from unreachable branches once a year,
and we move backwards into the future, seeing only that which is already behind us and not that which trips us up,
and a child will always stand from damp woodchips to get hit in the face by the same swing that knocked her down,
and it is that very kitchen window that we warm with our breath so that we may trace with our fingertips what we do know
though we do know
it will fade.

I’m in freefall.
And who would have thought it,
on my back in a field in Spalding
I can’t think of anything to wish for. 

Colin Stetson, The Righteous Wrath of an Honorable Man

Good morning!

Moondog, Paris

Cat and Bouncer

Night sky over the Santa Cruz Mountains.

I made this video as a test of pixilation animation around Santa Cruz, CA. I wanted to explore animation of the very small (tiny flowers in a rooftop greenhouse) and the very big (sunrise over Monterey Bay).

Watch in HD!

Chinese Man, He Said

Sparklehorse, Gold Day

Dedicated to weird British weather.