In between showers last week I cycled over Magdalen Bridge to East Oxford to meet with photographer Simon Murison-Bowie. He’s written a book in which he explores some of the very first photographs taken of Oxford back in the 1840’s.
Hurly burly, higgeldy piggledy, nitty gritty – what’s not to love about these delightful, reduplicative words. They infuse the English language with humour, playfulness and well, a little bit of razzle dazzle. So when I discovered there was such a thing as a crinkle crankle wall and that one resided in Oxford I felt compelled to search it out. Easy peasy I thought.
Emma Coleman-Jones draws trees. In all seasons. In all weathers. Come blazing heat, bitter cold, rain, snow or high winds she will be out in the elements, sketchbook in hand looking for that serendipitous moment in time and place when something catches her eye.
I’ve always found something earthy and unpretentious about this form of entertainment, thought to have arrived here from Flanders, the word derived from the French ‘Morisque’ meaning ‘dance’. Played out away from the stiff ceremonials of the University, the Quarry side is part of an age-old social ritual unconstrained by the conventions of the highbrow institution down below. Indeed, the part played by the ‘fool’ with his inflated bladder on a stick used to berate the other dancers was itself a playful mockery of the sticks used by officialdom; for these are festivities created by working people, to take a break from the day job, seizing the chance to let their hair down. Washed down with large quantities of local ale.