I think Will Alsop, who created the vision for Barnsley’s masterplan, would have been pleased to see how the town has developed in the years since his famous “Tuscan Hill Village.” The real strength of his work was that it gave Barnsley permission to dream — well done @barnsleycouncil
I went to the launch of the Barnsley Seam last night and was really impressed. It’s a brilliant piece of new public realm work. The roses create a strong atmosphere, and the surrounding benches and layout of the space work really well together. Well done Barnsley Council.
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So many marvels!
Lovely new release from Jasmine Myra 'Reflections'. A single from her third album, out in a couple of months. Listening to this whilst looking at Hokusai prints, they go together well. open.spotify.com/track/6EiddS...
Love the work of Hokusai and Hiroshige. Looking forward to seeing this exhibition York Art Gallery
An attempt at an Haiku:
At York Art Gallery
The Great Wave rears up in blue.
I wave. It waves back.
www.yorkartgallery.org.uk/exhibition/m...
Spending time with my mate @imcmillan.bsky.social makes me want to write. Excited by Spring...
Promise
Patience of light —
life called from
dark winter days,
a promise unfolding.
Blossoms burst into air,
green springs from broken wood,
the earth wakes, breathing out
everything is new again.
PM
A great Friday afternoon listen! The Ellington Suites, grand, graceful, and quietly majestic. open.spotify.com/track/3agOXp...
Gold spills through
the window, onto the sofa,
seeping across the floor,
climbing the chair.
Atoms of dust caught
in a shaft of light,
shining like stars
in an afternoon universe.
Patrick Murphy
#poetry #amwriting #UKpoetry
As a visual artist, I’m finding my feet when it comes to writing verse. But I like the challenging and find it rewarding. Here’s something I've been working on.
Afternoon’s Universe
Can you hear it,
the blackbird’s song
healing the street,
heads lifting
Image that supports the poem 'Held In Place' showing people truding on a rain soaked street.
Held in Place
A poem by Patrick Murphy 2026 Held in Place Mist and mizzle set the town in grey aspic, a suspension of people held in place, as if time itself has been poured and left to cool. Monet could have painted the puddles if he was from Doncaster, circles radiating in petrol-slick water, colours trembling under red brake lights, the dark, damp heaviness of a northern terrace, white light refracted on roof tiles, like plates set out for Sunday best. People move through it with hands pushed deep in pockets, shoulders up, heads down, trudging slowly, the town thickened around them, as though they’ve forgotten who they are, or why they set off.
Another wet day, it inspired me to write this:
HELD IN PLACE
#poetry
Thank you
Thanks, good idea
Hello Ian
Good idea!
🎹 I've been listening to Solace of the Mind by Amina Claudine Myers. There’s a real sense of calm and reflection throughout. Would recommend, especially this track African Blues open.spotify.com/track/1qKDyt... #jazz
Hello 👋 I’m Patrick, new to Bluesky. I’m an artist working across drawing, sculpture, public art and community projects. Currently collaborating with @imcmillan.bsky.social
Please follow for updates.
#ArtistOnBluesky #Sculpture #Drawing #PublicArt
What a fun workshop yesterday in Worsbrough! Me and
@imcmillan.bsky.social were gathering stories to help create an Art Trail, Town Sculpture and a town poem. Amazing how much people know – I never knew Alexander Pope’s mum was from Worsbrough! #Worsbrough #lovewhereyoulive
Continuous Line Bird was a single, unbroken line drawing I made without lifting pen from the paper. I’ve transformed the drawing into small, home-friendly sculptures, each installed on a solid base of oak, cedar, or walnut.
Available from my website. patrickmurphystudio.co.uk/product/line/
#Art
Regent Street glows
with reflections of the past:
shop lights, bus lights, old faces,
the past puddled at my feet.
A promise that some things
don’t need to be seen
to still be standing.
I walk on, holding what I love.
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A great morning with @imcmillan.bsky.social Walking through town afterwards, I took a photo of the disappearing town hall. It made me write this short poem.
The Kind of Day
A grey, wet, maudlin Friday.
The town hall disappears,
drifting in and out of being—
like a Barnsley Brigadoon.
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