Kilminorth Woods a ‘Nature Reserve.’
The Candian Geese aren’t so reserved. Someone didn’t let them know!
Every so often they take glorious flight skimming the river and if they detect a fox or tax collector, even at 2am their extraordinary cacophony of sound travels at the speed of light through the night. The owl wins out though. She hoots well into the early hours until – I guess – she wants to hunt and then the Hoooting would prove not such a great device for stealth. “TWIT twoo” – I try not to take it personally.
You think that I am complaining? No. For years, this was the first time that I had heard (and enjoyed) birds which are not seagull shaped. (I love seagulls…but) this woodland orchestra of – squawking, calling out, talking and having general conversations in – what must be – one of the most beautiful places on earth.
And where am I? – In a tent at ‘Watergate Camping.’ – I did an overnighter and for me, that’s a brave thing to do. For sure, brave, because my confidence has dwindled and shriveled over these past couples of years. So much so – that it is a major expedition to go to the Co-op for a pint of milk.
But Hike with the kitchen sink I did (Yoda undertone there)
…and hike a few miles back and forth (be with you) as my ton weight rucksack didn’t evince an essential camping stove part.
Why? Why did I camp – near to me, just up the road, a stone’s throw from Looe?
To challenge myself and because I was frightened to.
While exploring and enjoying the woods one day (just off of Millpool car park) – I met a woman walking her dog and we ‘chatted’ (I am the world’s worse chatter)
And she mentioned that along the river there was a campsite – ‘Watergate’
And so – long story/short. That’s where I was this week – for one night only.
I am not kidding – but as I approached the wood trail, I met a man who lived in Duloe, called … wait for it … ‘Wolf.’ He was so lovely and he had a dog named ‘Raven.’
He came from Germany in the 1970s and I thought that he was such a lovely human being.
Later- during the night, the owl did keep me awake just a bit, I thought it would be a little funny if I met a wolf in the woods while camping – who then introduced himself as ‘Man’ or that I met a raven on my hike back to Looe, who introduced himself as ‘dog.’
I will camp there again. The place, the situ, the family that runs it, the communications and support beforehand – (I explained when booking with ‘pitch up’ about my autism) – all were incredible. The gnats like my bald/bold head a little too much – but then I did say ‘Hello’ to a gnat called ‘Elephant.’
Sometimes Mary Poppins is about all a man can manage. And yeah, I cried. I could blame coming off of all anti-depressants and anti-anxiety meds and such would be true. But as I explained to my GP recently – if there is real trauma in my life then I have to feel it. If there is real injustice, I have to recognise and deal with it. That aside, Thanks to my dearest friend (T) for another lovely day out. Rock n roll it may not be – but I will take all the feel-good film, kindness and friendship that I can get.
Worked out that – The photo portrait on the left is 2007 and taken by Robin Hammond for the National Autistic Society exhibition ‘Think Differently about Autism’ and I was 46 years old and ‘presented’ as a Woman. And the other portrait is by photographer Shane Reynolds 2015 and I am now 54 years old and have completed gender re-assignment from female to male. I wanted to compare the two together. So these are two photos 8 years apart from one another. In the first I was Aly (short and abbreviation of then birth name Alison) …and now as Alyster – with new birth certificate. (copyright: Robin Hammond and Shane Reynolds)
Self Study – Mental Health
Visual Arts, film, photography, Painting: Projects – Across The Tamer, The Sphere Of Poetry, Portraiture, Collect
Music, Biscuit Tin Drummer, Back To The Drawing Room
Campaign, One An All Of Us – Cornwall Campaign For Better Mental Health Care
Literature, Automatic Biography: The Hurry – an A to Z of Endurance
Literature, anthropology : Rhyme nor Reason (Poetry) Autism and Empathy
world peace on a shoe string and weather permitting
Biscuit Tin Drummer – a small scale project of thousands of people with an overall goal of bringing about World Peace. – obviously allowing for a small scale budget. This is a hub of collaborating musicians, artists, photographers and film makers, however all are invited to contribute too. Early stages are First stage – blue sky, brain storming, ideas, concept and free flow platform the time line is the onset Autumn 2014 – June 2015. Second Stage – implementation, meetings, skype and exploration, this Second stage timeline is June 2015 – January 2016 it will include an application for funding Arts Council England. Third, Final Stage – An exhibition of project, the film and song with an accompanying visual, written journal by all contributing. The base for the project are Cornwall and Devon – However, individual contributors come from and engage from much further afield.
Paignton is my worst nightmare and a dream come true. Once establishing that I was going through yet another, yawn! Yawn! Depressive episode, it makes sense to hole up and hibernate even though the sun is shining and people around appear to be doing that thing which is commonly known as laughing. At most, I know that from experience any sensory overload could catapult my depression into full blown melt down and break down mentally and so I do have to manage my way through until I feel safe again. This can take weeks, days and sometimes months. it makes no sense to go on a short break at one of the most busiest times of the year at a holiday resort known for copious arcades, flashing lights, children screaming with joy and children screaming randomly which I have worked out has something to do with seagulls and ice cream. The many pubs with speakers bellowing out to the seafront are an affront to the senses, as someone who has abused alcohol when distressed – I had to walk past them full of longing but, thankfully, a feeling soon replace by the reality of recovery – a no go zone. So there I was in Paignton honouring a commitment with talented photographers, a portrait booking which had been made in advance and one in which I needed to update my Arts profile in all its shapes and forms. And a benchmark of time and place.
I heard Toya from ‘Oxyte’ photography on Radio 4, 2013 talking about her work and her modelling agency ‘Aesthetic Clarity’ and I had known Emma’s work too with ‘Dark Star’ photography and that they worked independently, but sometimes collaboratively. They are good friends and that shows in the way in which they communicate with each other, they don’t stifle each other’s creativity but stick to their own specific skills. Emma’s tends to be taking a photograph in any position she so chooses, if needed she would hang upside down from an automatic revolving door if it made a good image. I admire that agility in the young (or at least younger than me) I’m pleased that she didn’t ask me to pose lying on my stomach outside the main library as she had just done, but there were construction cranes nearby to get me up again.
Funny, warm, talkative, passionate and excitable – a true delight. And trendy, I felt privileged to be in her company, I almost felt ‘cool’ Toya, the core and main helm of all the projects and agency is a skilled photographer too, an astute business Woman who doesn’t take her work lightly although she makes it fun. She is warm, friendly and passionate about her work too and an incredible driving force behind it all. I could not believe that they got photos of me smiling. How can that be? I will repeat that: I cannot believe that they got photos of me smiling, no laughing … actually laughing and it dawned on me that I was having fun.
That my Girlfriend was there to support me and to enjoy the experience also made it better, that we combined the photo shoot with a short break was wise. And we posed for images toward our collaborative music projects and recording. I remember Toya talking about how building the confidence of the person being photographed was an integral thing about their work. And that, my understanding was, that disability or being ‘different’ was not an issue. By which One doesn’t have to be someone they or not, nor does One have to be someone they are meant to be by others standards. It is clear in all the photos taken by Toya and Emma, by ‘Oxyte’ and ‘Dark Star’ – Before you see anything – You see the person. You see their eyes and the honesty, rawness and energy is mind blowing. Each portrait is a living portrait. It is not confined by urban walls or streets or setting. The model is allowed to (or given freedom) in the environment. I love their work and I am greatly honoured to have been photographed by them both. And I love Paignton, never in my life would I have dreamed that I could manage the sensory onslaught of a penny arcade for two hours. It cost me £56 in two pence pieces to win a Spiderman key ring (wink)
But fun is fun and fun can still be fun in glimpses as Depression erodes away again for another rainy day.
Check out their websites and Facebook pages, these people need grants and bursaries and awards and funding, they should be globe trotters with all their models. They are Paignton’s Pride and Joy
Painting ‘It Rhymes With Orange’
Acrylic on Canvas 2006 (254mm by 355mm/10″ by 14″)
For Main Visual Art Website go to:
There is too much to write about this Artist and maybe too, too much to know. A brief description of his work, a summary of his achievements and downfalls are numerous and almost incalculable. He is writings his memoirs and that should help matters. He gained success at three United Kingdom Art Schools: Plymouth, Falmouth and Norwich. Being a Fine Art student is all well and good, but they didn’t tell him how to cope with depression and for many years Gynn was undecided as to which came first – the depression before the Art, or the Art before depression. Was it a cause of mental ill health? Or was it the medicine needed?
Gynn has so many certificates of education (no really!) that he seldom knows how to relate them to everyday living and Independence. Perhaps they don’t, perhaps being such a highly professional Artist doesn’t, in itself, pay the bills.
Gynn will look at a cooker and mutter ‘this is not a cooker.’ Cereal for every meal solves this.
Rather than scrawl over and remark each certificate and each record with a scribed Alyster Gynn not the previous Alison Gynn or Aly Gynn – he changed his gender, his sex.
Born Female, but in the wrong body!
(As many may understand the phenomenon)
The certificates are pretty and someone had taken great care to exercise their calligraphy skills. Besides, a journey of life is a journey of Art or the other way around. Had the diagnosis of Asperger Syndrome been made in his younger years, he would have understood why Art was such an essential part of his life. He would have understood so much more about himself, but that’s life!
(As many may understand the phenomenon)
He spent some years living in Suffolk UK, but for the most part he was born in Cornwall, grew up in Cornwall and lives there now. Born in 1961, He is getting on a bit now.
Well That’s decided. I am goings to write my memoirs. An autobiography. It will be called ‘Devon Was Born in Cornwall’ and will have some rarer elements of fiction incorporated. ‘Devon’ – as a character, will help me explain to the reader aspects needing some objectivity and distance (for myself and others)
It’s a big decision to follow this path of writing. The personal and how to be honest and truthful in the prose is crucial. I have the writing, the imagery, the facts and records. Finally, it seems that now… I have courage.
‘Devon Was Born In Cornwall’ a novel by Alyster Gynn
Full Publish Date March – 2016
from Chapter 26 – The Hurry.
Devon was born in Cornwall. And it was on a farm but not in a barn. Throughout his life he had ensured that every door he walked through had gently closed behind him. At seven years and ten days old, he had reminded himself of these facts during a rehearsal of the school nativity play. He happened to be wearing a costume which was supposed to make him look like one of the ‘Three Wise Men’, a reluctant contribution. There was nothing wise about the fact that he had a tea-towel flopped over his head and that he had spent most of the rehearsal worried that his head wear had ringed coffee stains.
Rachel Saunders had arrived on stage holding a naked plastic doll by its head, plonked herself down on a bale of hay and moaned that the crib was in the wrong place. The pious look on her face was a constant all year round and Devon was sure that it had happened one day when the wind had changed. He had quietly muttered a prayer that day, Thank God my parents didn’t call me Jesus!
(‘Devon’ – the Third Person Omniscient Narrator and Protagonist of my novel )
‘Devon Was Born In Cornwall’
Memoirs and image ©2010Gynn – full publish date March 2016