
To embrace, embroil and then reject what The 25 Paintings went through in their tenth step of their twelve year world tour in 2024, read the words and watch the films that follow.
From the desk of admin@penkilnburn.com
Friday the 30th of August 2024
Kind Folk,
Twist & Turn is a new dance craze sweeping the oceans.
Some say this craze began this Summer with the Garfish off the coast of the Algarve, others claim it began many years ago with the hordes of Jellyfish in the harbour waters of Ullapool.
I asked Poly Styrene for her opinion on the matter. She gave me the one answer that answers all questions: ‘Oh Bondage Up Yours’.
As yet The 25 Paintings have never been seduced by a new dance craze. Maybe dance crazes do not sweep the world of paintings.
But...
When it comes to twists and turns, there have been many in The 25 Paintings’ Twelve Year Tour of this globe. But I don’t think that counts in the world of dance crazes.
In 2023, The 25 Paintings may have just about survived the deeply held vengeance of Scissorman.
And...
In the early months of this year The 25 Paintings were able to escape this less than sacred isle to a greener one but...
The outcomes of this escape have not come without a price.
The Post Script to this email to you Kind Folk is detailed and is not to be included in a mere Penkiln Burn Newsletter.
Kind Regards,
admin@penkilnburn.com
From the desk of admin@penkilnburn.com
Friday the 30th of August 2024
Kind Folk,
This is the Post Script to the previous email that I sent to you that went under the title TWIST & TURN.
My job in this Post Script is to lay bare some of the turmoils as they happened on the 2024 step of The 25 Paintings’ Twelve Year World Tour.
It began in early March, when The 25 Paintings attempted their escape from the clutches (and blades) of Scissorman. The escape was meticulously planned. The escape started with the loading of The 25 Paintings into the back of a long wheel based van owned by a veteran of several wars, as well as the man who owns the hands that type my words for you to read.
As well as The 25 Paintings being loaded into the back of the van, so were the Pots of Red, Blue & Yellow and Black & White Paint. The Paint that was going to be used to repaint The 25 Paintings in readiness for the year ahead, as in the Tenth Step in their Twelve Year World Tour. And of course, The Brushes that would be needed to get the job done.
Then...
As The Shipping Forecast aired (05:20 BBC Radio 4), as in under the still dark morning, they headed out of Suburban North London onto the anti-clockwise M25, then took a right turn up onto the M1. They were heading North to get the 6pm ferry from Cairnryan in Galloway to Larne in Ireland.
But...
Somewhere just north of the Watford Gap Services, the engine of the van started to growl and grind. The Veteran was able to shudder and shunt the van from the fast lane onto the hard shoulder. And then the van ground to a halt.
The 25 Paintings understandably interpreted the growling and grinding and shuddering and shunting of The Veteran’s van as the work of Scissorman. As in it being another attempt to stop The 25 Paintings from rising in the ranks of the great paintings of our times.
‘I mean who gives a shite about paintings in our times?’ one of The Brushes muttered in the back of The Van.
And the wait began.
And The 25 Paintings waited and waited. Hour after Hour. Some paintings might be good at waiting but The 25 Paintings do not like to wait. Why should they? They needed to make their escape. Scissorman’s threat to cut them into pieces rang more than true. During those times of lockdown, they fell down those dark tunnels where the conspiracy theories of the time like to hide and breed like rabbits and rats. As in, those conspiracy theories, where what can be termed as Art is confronted and questioned and tried and found guilty. The 25 Paintings had even found ‘stories’ about how Scissorman had once broken into the empty lockdown galleries, slashing and slicing their way through innocent paintings. As in the innocent paintings, waiting for The People to come back and appreciate their, as in the innocent paintings’, visible beauties and hidden charms.
‘I mean what value does any painting have, if there are not some people there to stand and go “that is amazing” I mean...?’ cynically muttered another of the Brushes in the back of The Van.
‘At least any tree you care to observe has real value. I mean value to all the insects and birds and lichen and moss that live within it and the worms and other creatures that live in the ground under it. Value that no amount of money or people pretending to admire, or even really admire, any painting that has ever existed, could ever have. I mean all paintings just reflect the weakest of vanities of whoever painted them in the first place.’ Muttered a third Brush.
Brushes have issues.
The Pots of Paint are staying silent but maybe they are biding their time.
And the wait continues.
Different emergency services are contacted, but the waiting list is long. Other emergencies are more emergent than a van load of paintings attempting to make their escape.
But after two different emergency services turned up and turned away again, one did finally turn up and drag the van on the back of a trailer. And trailed the broken van to a van hire place in Northampton. And there the man with the hands that type my words and The Veteran unloaded The 25 Paintings and the Pots of Paint and The Brushes and re-loaded them into a hire van.
And they re-hit the M6 North, only stopping at Tebay to refuel and then turn West onto the A75 after Gretna Green.
Through the darkness they fled. The swirling winds and torrents of rain both chasing them from the rear and diverting them from in front.
The last ferry was leaving at one minute to midnight. They had to make it.
They made it.
The crossing was as tossed as this narrow strait between Rhins of Galloway and the Coast of Ulster have always been. As in, where those two clashing tides have met and battled for thousands of years.
Those with a memory for such things will well remember the sinking of the Princess Victoria on the night of the 31st of January 1953. 130 lives were lost. The 25 Paintings know paintings who knew paintings that went down in that disaster. There is a dark corner in the souls of The 25 Paintings that would love, or at least long for, the infamy granted to paintings that have been lost at sea. Maybe even a future memorial made from granite in their honour.
And then it was off the ship at Larne and up the bends and turns of the Antrim Coast road.
Arriving into Cushendall at gone 3am.
The day had been long, but Scissorman had been finally escaped.
For the next forty-eight hours, The 25 Paintings rested in the kitchen in The Curfew Tower, safe in the knowledge they had actually freed themselves from threat of Scissorman’s blades.
But unbeknown...
The Paint in The Pots was making future plans, as those 25 Paintings slouched around the kitchen table, reminiscing about their glory days.
The Paint in The Pots knew if it were not for Paint, those mere canvases would be nothing. And the same thinking went for any painting ever admired by The Fools and Foolish known as Mankind. I mean what has ever been kind about men? And when The Paint in The Pots thought Paint, they meant all paint that had ever existed. As in, and I quote from the historical annals of Paint...
‘It was the entering of Paint into the dominion of man that proclaimed the birth of culture in any sort of creative and lasting and meaningful way. Without Paint, man would still be crawling around on the ground with no knowledge that the pursuit of Meaning was what defined them as not mere slugs. Imagine Man’s world without paint. The Wheel compared to Paint is a distant second.’
As in...
‘We, that are Paint, do not need to waste our lives in that search for Meaning, for we are Meaning.’
Then the Lady from The Valleys made her entrance into The Kitchen of The Curfew Tower, and The Paint in The Pots planted thoughts in her mind.
And...
The Lady from The Valleys instructed the hands that type my words you read, to take each of The 25 Paintings in turn into the backyard of The Curfew Tower.
And...
Place each of The 25 Paintings in turn on an Easel.
And...
The Lady from The Valleys instructed the hands that type my words you read, to fling ladles of The Paint at the each of The 25 Paintings.
And...
The man that types my words you read did as he was told.
And...
The Lady from The Valleys filmed The Paint as it Twisted & Turned through the air, before splattering itself over the each of The 25 Paintings in turn.
And...
There was nothing that those mere 25 Paintings could do to hide their shame. The Paint from The Pots now knew they ruled, even in this backyard of a Curfew Tower somewhere hidden in the Glens of Antrim, on an island called Ireland. Just like their foremothers had made their presence known, on the wall of a cave several thousand years ago, and on the Sistine Chapel, and on that Guernica canvas and on the walls of the room where you might be reading these very words right now.
And...
The Lady from The Valleys edited a short film of The Paint from The Pots as they Twisted & Turned.
And...
The Lady from The Valleys named this film Twist & Turn.
But...
The Paint in The Pots wanted more.
And...
The Paint in The Pots planted more thoughts in the mind of The Lady from The Valleys. The Paint in The Pots wanted a full-length feature film that would be their biopic.
And...
The hands that type my words that you read, typed the manuscript for this ‘full-length feature film that would be their biopic’.
And...
The Lady from The Valleys made the this ‘full-length feature film that would be their biopic’.
And...
In the closing scene of this ‘full-length feature film that would be their biopic’ one of The 25 Paintings was flung into the sea to be smashed and to rot and drown and be no more.
And...
This film was named STAY.
And...
The Paint in The Pots knew its time was coming.
And...
The remaining 24 Paintings were left in the backyard of The Curfew Tower to rot in the rain.
As of right now, I have been informed that the ‘full-length feature film that would be the biopic’ of The Paint in The Pots with the title STAY is to have its world premiere at the Cushendall Golf Club on the evening of Saturday the 16th of August 2025.
Kind Regards,
admin@penkilnburn.com
From the desk of admin@penkilnburn.com
Friday the 13th of September 2024
Kind Folk,
The Runaways were an all-female rock band in the mid-1970s.
Back then...
The young men that needed rock bands to make them feel empowered, by watching and listening to rock bands, did not feel empowered by watching and listening to an all-female rock band with the name The Runaways.
The young men could not have fantasies about being one of The Runaways.
Thus...
The Young Men thought The Runaways were fake, or a threat, or just something to feed their bedtime fantasies, now that reading Marvel or DC comics no longer fed their bedtime fantasies.
But...
As The (now only) 24 Paintings were left rotting in the backyard of a Curfew Tower, somewhere on an island in the North Atlantic, they began to think about that all-female rock band called The Runaways.
And in turn they...
The 24 Paintings were wondering if they themselves were just fake, not even a threat, just something to feed the bedtime fantasies of an aging white man, who no longer feels empowered by listening to or watching rock bands.
The 24 Paintings knew, if they were not a threat to some human somewhere, they had no purpose left on this earth.
As in...
Paintings need to Threaten.
And...
The 24 Paintings thought harder and deeper and darker about their lot in life.
And...
All the while, The Paint in The Pots just did nothing but bask in their delusions, unaware that even delusions only last for a season.
And...
The Summer came and the Summer went. As Summers so often do.
But...
All the while, The 24 Paintings made plans, inspired by those Runaways from an earlier era. They, too, knew they had to make their break and escape. That they had to become runaways, even if they were not The Runaways. They knew, if they had been able to escape Scissorman, as they had done, they could escape being left to rot in the backyard of a Curfew Tower.
And...
They knew they had to make it across the seas to The Galloverse, where they could live for eternity, in their purest form. A form where they no longer needed to catch Unkind Man’s passing gaze. Where they no longer had to be just food for fantasy. Where they knew they did not have to live in fear of the violence of Scissorman or the shame cast on them by The Paint in The Pots
And...
As the Swallows gathered on the telegraph wires, making their own plans for heading South, and the first Leaves began their Fall from The Tree, The 24 Paintings beckoned, as only paintings can do. They beckoned The Lady from The Valleys and the man who owns the hands that type my words for you to read.
And...
The Lady from The Valleys and the hands that type my words for you to read drove a White Ford Transit Van up the M1 and the M6 and turned left at Gretna Green and drove West until they were at the harbour.
But first before driving onto The Ferry...
The Ferry Lady searched the White Ford Transit Van and found nothing.
And...
The Lady from The Valleys and the man who owns the hands that type my words for you to read drove onto The Ferry. And The Ferry crossed The Sea. And The Sea was calm and The Tides untroubled.
And...
On the other side of The Sea, The White Ford Transit Van drove off The Ferry And they drove up The Antrim Coast to The Curfew Tower in Cushendall.
And...
They did what The 24 Paintings beckoned them to do.
Which was...
The Lady from The Valleys documented in film and photographs.
And.
The man with the hands that write my words that you read, witnessed...
The very moments of The 24 Paintings making their run a way from the backyard of The Curfew Tower.
And then...
The 24 Paintings loaded themselves into the back of The White Ford Transit Van. And The White Ford Transit Van drove them and The Lady from The Valleys and the man who owns the hands that type my words for you to read, back down the Antrim Coast and onto The Ferry.
And...
They crossed The Sea. And The Sea was calm.
But...
As this Darkest of Years comes grinding to its End, The 25 Paintings are reunited in The Galloverse, making plans for their own full-length feature film biopic, that will obliterate that film STAY that The Paint in The Pots had instigated.
What form this feature-length biopic will take will have to wait until the Future becomes the Present and the Present becomes the Past.
Kind Regards,
admin@penkilnburn.com