Ing-er-land Year 8

Jared Louche – facilitator on Ingerland project

ingerland8 — Wed, 10 Jan 2007 12:45:11 +0000

Poet, performer, singer, rock star, writer, educator, dj, painter, photographer and sculptor from New York and currently living in North London, Jared Louche is the quintessential highly productive, overloaded artist. He has toured all over the world with his bands as well as in the role of poet and storyteller. He has recorded over a dozen albums and unleashed a book entitled “A Handbook”. His second book, a hydra-headed, multi-media affair entitled “Unplugged Memories” is expected soon.He’s currently soundtracking a collection of stories and songs with Mark Spybey (CAN, and other sonic experimentalists) and working on another album of covers and originals with superstar side-project The Aliens. Louche’s poetry and stories can be heard all over
London, from the BBC World Service to GLR, from The Globe Theatre to The Barbican, from The Garage and The Astoria to The Soho Theatre, Queen Elizabeth Hall and rock festival stages. With his band, Louche has toured with Nine Inch Nails, White Zombie, KMFDM, GWAR, Pigface and many others, setting stages alight across the globe. From 1981 to 1990 Jared worked with sculptural arts group Art Attack designing and installing guerrilla exhibits in countless disused spaces, abandoned houses and art galleries all across the US and Europe as well as showing at such prestigious events as Documenta in Germany and Collide in Marseille.

Unison

ingerland8 — Thu, 06 Jul 2006 14:17:39 +0000

Everyday I look out of my window,
Scared of the world outside, but one day I found I shouldn’t hide,
I opend up my window and my senses were awake,
I heard and felt the things, that before I could’nt take.

Unison-: “sounds like”…
Amy: The national anthem being sung by thousands, even though no-one really knows the words.

Unison-:”tastes like”…
Katie: The sweet flavour of the smog filled air, pouring through my window.

Unison-: “smells like”

poem to be finished

Englishness

ingerland8 — Thu, 06 Jul 2006 14:16:45 +0000

Englishness sounds like a royal fanfare, trumpets, drums and horns.

Englishness sounds like a traffic jam, rumbling, shouting and beeps.

Englishness sounds like the seaside, waves, boats and seagulls.

Englishness sounds like a fry-up, eggs, bacon and sausage.

For these reasons good and bad, I love the country I live in.

The sounds, the smells, the tastes, the sights,
England never stops giving!

By Jack Adcock 8m

Who Do I Think I Am?

ingerland8 — Thu, 06 Jul 2006 13:45:39 +0000

I am the activities, the tens, hundreds, thousands of possibilities.I am busses, big and red that takes you anywhere possible.I am the music, rock, R&B, classical, jazz, endless possibilities.I am the weather, sunny or snow, I will always haunt you.I am the fashion, punks, chavs, grungies; your personality will stand out.

I am cloudy days, dreary and gloomy, hanging over you.I am arguments that splits the bestest of friends, countries and the tilt of wars.I am the dark dingy streets, deadliest at the dead of night.I am mushrooms, tasteless and grey.I am cigarettes, making you cough and choke, for reason, I do not know.I am tall buildings looming over you, thousands of stories high.

By Louise 8c

Englishness

ingerland8 — Thu, 06 Jul 2006 13:38:39 +0000

A question of content
A family of royals
A bucket of children
A school of English
A shout of people
A gun of prisons
A thief of crimes
A computer of memories
A stagger of stunts
A check of promises
A bustle of towns
An army of beggars.

By Louise 8c

ingerland8 — Thu, 06 Jul 2006 13:14:12 +0000

What is England?

A conflict of colours, red against white.

An enchanting opinion, is the white van man the new Brad Pitt?

It’s the boisterous booming of a car horn.

A parade of personality.

A king of creation.

A circus of rucus, always on the go.

The country that tastes like it needs more flavour.

A dash of sun or a grate of strong chilli to give him some spice.

It’s the concrete jungle

Where every monkey goes to work for their share of bananas.

That is
England!

by Joel ?

Englishness

ingerland8 — Thu, 06 Jul 2006 11:59:59 +0000

Englishness sounds like a bustling crowd walking along Oxford Street, buying, talking, and crying. It sounds like cars motoring along the motorway, speeding like they know they shouldn’t be.

Englishness tastes like earl grey tea, boring and bland. It tastes like alcohol when you walk into a pub. It tastes good and bad, chocolate and fast food.

Englishness smells like freshly moan lawn mixed with shampoo and petrol. It smells of cultures, stress and taunts.

Englishness feels like a bond waiting to connect, it’s a proud feeling, never wanting to leave you. It feels good, bad, interesting and boring.

Englishness looks like a great rainbow with different colours representing different religions, cultures, food and thoughts. It looks like many places, hot, cold, windy and rainy.

By Louise 8c

England

ingerland8 — Thu, 06 Jul 2006 11:34:34 +0000

A riot of rappers
A school of wrongs and
A mutiny of questions
There’s a blasting honk of the white van men everywhere.
A tapestry of ethnicities
Impatient knots of labours
And creases of sweat England
An Artic of Monkeys
A roundabout of Rascals making a melody of music
A fantastic festival of fusions
It’s a carton of corner shops
A rabbit of mouths
A political 10 of black doors
V.S a condom full of teenagers
England is a collapse of queens
And a thumping of parties
It’s a temptation of back streets
And an easy way out!

by lois

Englishness

ingerland8 — Thu, 06 Jul 2006 11:23:50 +0000

Englishness is like Tony Blair having one of his famous rants about supporting our troops that are viciously taking Iraqi families and telling outraged fathers to calm down, as there bomb struck houses are taken away and used as army hideouts. If you’re not Bush’s side you’re not on my side, he says as if brainwashed.

ChorusX 2. Helplessly communities are ripped apart like a bear cub taken away and taught to dance.

In the middle of all the pollution and backstabbing, selfish politicians that don’t know their career should have ended a long time ago, are sitting around a willow table. Gossiping like girls in the sixth grade. Meanwhile out in the East children are starving, corpses in the road. Mothers are crying all day. Yet in the West, old men in tweed sit in their armchairs smoking cigars and stroking
Labradors.

Chorus X2.

Terrorism is here like it or not. In overcrowded tubes you’re being pushed against a window, by a fat greasy bald man who doesn’t know how big his gut is. Everyone’s merry, but there’s a ticking rucksack in the corner steadily getting louder, and nearer to a great tragedy that will devastate all who know of it.

By Matt and ?

England

ingerland8 — Thu, 06 Jul 2006 11:13:36 +0000

Englishness sounds like people shouting at each other in a grey tube station
in grey suits to grey buildings. It also sounds like hundreds of grey
pigeons rustling fluttering in Trafalgar square on grey concrete.
Englishness sounds grey.

Englishness smells like freshly cut hedges mixed with burnt out petrol.
Englishness smells like frustration of being chassed by a dozen chaves and
loads of different culture music blurred together to make a fusion of
rubbish.

Englishness tastes like battered sausage and chips covered in salt and
vinegar. Englishness tastes like pub peanuts washed down with a pint of cold
beer.

Englishness feels like a bond waiting to connect, it’s a proud feeling,
never wanting to leave you. It feels good, bad, interesting and boring.

Englishness looks like many grey islands in a sea of green field,brown woods
and blue lakes.Englishness looks like the smiles on peoples faces after a
world cup win and the tears of a child who has fallen over a football in the
school playground.Englishness looks like the cities the fields the smiles
and the tears rolled into one.

By Jake, Jack, Frances and Louise