The Drill Hall Project

please also see the link to Jude Walton’s web site.


Untitled|two eighteen: Messenger – A third is always present

Lhasa de Sela, What Kind of Heart
Eight black Shetland ponies in a white field, in pairs.
Jean Follain, Speech Alone

‘For my part I know nothing with any certainty … but the sight of the stars makes me dream.’ (Van Gogh)

Sanna Kurki-Suonio, Vaskilintu
Old Holland Vine Black watercolour pigment
Max Picard, The World of Silence
Jean Sibelius, Malinconia
‘Things to be blasted’ – Gerede

‘In my childhood is born a childhood burning like alcohol / I would sit down in the paths of the night / I would listen to the discourse of the stars / And that of the tree. / Now indifference snows in the evening of my soul.’ (Huidobro)

Dedication: History & Locality
‘Less the childhood, more the place / and the childhood of the place;
and through the childhood of the place / the present: the present people.’

‘A gentleman having to come to Dundee from Abernyte in the morning took a snow-plough, to which four horses were attached to clear his way but came to a part of the road where the snow lay ten feet deep. He was compelled to give up the attempt to clear the road and had to seek a way through the fields to Inchture.’ (5 March, 1881)

Untitled|one eighteen – The road is wider than long

MTB race partner Cat Lamont and I at work for COG Velo during the Strathpuffer 24 (20-21 January, 2018. photo credit: Gary Williamson Photography.)

Black Shetland ponies.
Fire — most especially, fire butane gas portable cabinet heaters.
James Merrill| A Vision Of A Garden, in ‘Water Street’ (Atheneum, 1962)
Marie Howe| The Snow Storm, in ‘The Kingdom of Ordinary Time’ (W.W.Norton, 2008)
Rebecca Watts| The Cult of the Noble Amateur (PN Review 239, Volume 44 Number 3, January – February 2018.)
Sheila Legge| I Have Done My Best for You, in ‘Contemporary Poetry and Prose #8’ (Roughton, 1936)

‘I was a child, I did not know / That what I longed for would resist / Neither what cold lines should my finger trace / On colder grounds before I found anew / In yours the features of that face / Whose words whose looks alone undo / Such frosts I lay me down in love in fear.’ (Merrill)

Tinsel – like a rag of plastic caught in the branch of a tree – but purple, and green.
Trail running.
Vasily Grossman| Everything Flows (Vintage, 2011)
Water — from mountain streams running snow melt.

‘This quote was in the article from the Adventure Syndicate about their Puffer with the 4 school girls, loved it and thought it applied to us too at a certain time in the morning … ‘But keep inching forward and nothing stays the same. The sun always comes up in the end, casting aside the fears and doubts felt in the darkness.’


Stemless Flower


Untitled|twelve seventeen: Donation

Unseen, / intermediary, / bone marrow envoy of flight; / two weeks of blood making, / slick pharma, care, / for her courteous mind; / the peat-smoked after-smell / after they were here; / you fell, to many times more grace.

‘You do not have to walk on your knees / For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.’


Untitled|nine, ten & eleven seventeen: Little Religion

The posts are made of clay. This post is sleeping under some cloth a section of the true cross this post is sleeping in the shade under the leaves of a great rose tree that casts shadows onto the cloth and ornaments it like a threadbare icon with shadows of anxiety; over the smell of clay autumn clouds pour east.

(Arnold Böcklin| ‘Die Toteninsel’ (Isle of the Dead). Sergei Rachmaninov composed a Symphonic Poem Op. 29 after the fourth version of this painting by the Swiss Symbolist artist. This painting was made on copper plate and was lost during an allied bombing raid in WWII – only a black and white photograph of it exists and it was this in particular not the original ‘coloured’ painting that inspired Rachmaninov’s work.

I was in Carrbridge recently; celebrating a marriage. I took a room in the Carrbridge hotel and – as I always do in hotels – I opened and closed the wardrobe doors and pulled open all the drawers of all the other pieces of furniture in the room| Room 147. It was in the bed-side drawer that I found the Gideon Bible with its torn chapters of Genesis.)


Untitled|eight seventeen

Black caterpillars
Blue washing lines
Mary, mother of Jesus, sings of her grief at the loss of her child
Midnight meadow-verge wild flowers

Sneezing white sheep
The colour of the absolute
Vanilla sponge cake
White magic
Withered clumps of thistle fluff – for the pillows of the dead

‘Indefatigable dazzling
terrestrial strangeness.’