Shoot the messenger…

Posted on November 10, 2010 by Comfort Nwabia

So, this is like my penultimate blog on this blog…
No, that doesn’t work, does it?

Anyway, last Thursday I went to the Green Room to interview Imtiaz Dharker(see below), and I bumped into Jackie Kay who was looking for the Green Room too(obviously) and she asked me for directions! So I led her to the Green Room(sort of, it wasn’t really leading, more like walking side by side), and took a moment to calm myself and then introduced myself to Imtiaz who was lovely and incredibly charming.


Again, my apologies, for the poor quality. The lighting in that room is odd. At least the sound is good…

The event itself was an absolute joy of seismic proportions. And(and yes I can start a sentence with and, it’s a blog, not a school report! Plus, I’m a poet!) these poroportions ranged from utterly hilarious to tenderly emotive. After some clever and witty music performed in a clever and witty way from John Sampson who had us unashamedly in fits by the end of the event. He handed us over to Imtiaz Dharker, who was keen to have us all ‘over the moon’ (no not literally)! It is a curious phrase and I have often wondered what its origin was. Still, the wit with which she exploited its potential hilarity as a literal idea was exactly what being a poet is all about. Her powerful imagery in This Room, (which I was jumping up and down for because I had studied it for GSCE) and in all her poetry held us in her sway till her time was up.

Next up was Jackie Kay, who I had previously directed to the Green Room. It was only fate that she would have us in fits. Also, she picked up on what I said before, about all those ‘Ahhs’ and ‘Umms’ from the audience. So, now I know I’m not the only one who notices it for sure. I won’t lie though, I’ve been prone to it myself. Truthfully, though I believe it was only because she was touching those nerves in her poetry which we feel deep inside us all. It was quite quickly time for the interlude. Then more of John Sampson, who was very knowledgable, as well as funny, it turned out and I was unfortunately(or is that fortunately) laughing too much to rememeber to write down the interesting information he imparted to us.

Then we were blessed with the presence of the next two poets, Gillian Clarke and Carol Ann Duffy. Clarke’s powerful images were truly striking and had us mesmerised and continuing our chance trails of groaning. The skill she possessed to weave such images was taking us to spurting groans of approval. Then the moment I felt we’d been waiting for, Carol Ann Duffy, the poet laureate, took to the stage, ready to graces us with her infinite humour. Her poems, new and old ranged in their varying themes, from British Pubs, to bees, Duffy covered the lot. I can honestly say I am so happy I got to see this event, it was stunning to be there, and I hope my accountv of it has been somewhat stunning itself.

Indeed, this is the last poem in the series. Like the others, it is my creative response to the event. Enjoy:

Will I have your permission?

The glacial Harmony of this lost language
Graceful, like the ancient ripple of preciousness
Yes, we’ll omit existence
In the name of love; an ageless love
What! No manual alchemy of friendship?
The annual quick and easy
Suitable for all needs
Working pulse? Make wine
And mine a double.
It’s worth the trouble, all of it
The world’s wrongs, no matter your geographic
Demographic, whether dreams like ash and cinder,
We kindle the lost art exploiting that forgotten
Die hard habit of light.
The disorder overwhelmed that dainty tune of paranoia,
But we saw you dipping your hand in her soul
Panning for gold, then soon
Deciding to eat her whole
No, there’s nothing sinister about it
Because we’re all over the moon.

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Girl Fawkes: London Dreamtime

Posted on November 8, 2010 by Alex Rowse

Visitors to Southbank Centre’s regular Friday Tonic were welcomed last week by the smell of kerosene and a buzz of excitement as performers from Perfect Circle Poi spun arches of fire through the crisp November air in preparation for Girl Fawkes. Ladyfest Ten were taking over and it was a perfect taster for this coming weekend’s festival of music, spoken word, comedy and more.

That early evening, the Front Room at Queen Elizabeth Hall was filled with the absolutely beautiful sound of You Are Wolf, who layers her voice to create haunting landscapes of poetry and song. Catherine Brogan followed with performance poetry that was laugh out loud funny while bridging the personal and the political. The event was spectacularly ended by my new favourite folky-pop band Lulu and the Lampshades. The girls and boy have gorgeous voices, they use a type-writer as a legitimate instrument and their youtube video I’ve posted above is possibly the best thing I’ve seen in a long time (I account for quite a few of those 480,880+ views). They remind me of early Regina Spektor, The Magnetic Fields and (I’m sorry) a tiny bit of Tegan & Sara’s earlier songs, but have a great sound of their own that simply makes me happy. I won’t gush anymore but please do check them out.

The people who I really want to go on about were London Dreamtime featuring performer and songwriter Katy Carr. The trio opened Girl Fawkes with a story that painted a picture of a ghostly, old-time South London where a young girl is buried alive in a circus act, only to be consumed by the spirits that lay below. There is so much joy to be had in being told a story, and the perfect combination of Vanessa Woolf’s narrative, Nigel of Bermondsey’s music and Katy Carr’s vocals was hypnotic to the point where I was an eager as a child to hear what would happen next. Before the event, I’d had the pleasure of meeting Vanessa and Katy for a quick chat on storytelling and the inspiration behind the ghostly tale they were telling that night.

When the door of the dressing room opened, the first thing that struck me was the beautiful 1940s vintage looks of the two women in front of me. The second thing was their absolute friendliness as they ushered me into the room and settled down in order to discuss their work. Ladyfest is to Vanessa ‘a celebration of women in art’ and is generally known as an arts movement with a very DIY spirit. It’s a kind of feminism through creativity that Ladyfest supports in order to make sure that female artists are given a platform for their work, and Vanessa fits with the values of the festival as she retells stories in order to address the patriarchal stereotypes or cliched gender roles that are often so embedded within fairytales.

‘There are lots of traditional stories out there which I get very frustrated with because they’re good stories but they often hold very old-fashioned view points. They seem to have attitudes on things that not only are they encapsulating but as you tell the story you’re almost passing it on and I really feel strongly that as a storyteller I want to tell stories that reflect the world view that I care about and the things that I think are important. For example I would never tell the story of the Princess and the Pea because you know, how do they find out if she’s a real princess or not? Oh because she’s so delicate (laughs)…I love these stories because they’re fantastic stories, but I want to tell them differently. So quite often I will change the gender of the heroes, or I’ll have two women together or two men together…you want to change those aspects in a story so it’s not just the same old crap.’

Certainly nothing that London Dreamtime performed could be called ‘the same old crap’. The pairing of Vanessa and Nigel of Bermondsey works because of their use of spoken word and song to look at the same subject. ‘We’re inspired by the same sorts of mythology and bits of history of London, and so what will quite often happen is that I will write a story and he will write a song about the same thing.’ Katy Carr was the guest vocalist to Vanessa and Nigel of Bermondsey, or more complexly ‘ambient, sonic, sound additional person’ as Vanessa christened her. Not only did Katy use her voice to aid the spine-tinging atmosphere of Vanessa’s story, but followed that by joining Nigel in performing the song he’d written called ‘In the Garden, where she calls her part: ‘the voices of the Cross Bones Graveyard in Southwark.’

The Cross Bones Graveyard is the inspiration behind Vanessa’s story as well, and a place that the two ladies are incredibly concerned about the fate of. Since medieval times, this piece of unhallowed land has been a place for the burial of ‘single women’, or less politely, prostitutes. Says Vanessa, that prior to Cromwell ‘these prostitutes were actually licensed by the Church yet they weren’t considered good enough to be buried on consecrated ground.’ Her story was inspired by thinking what would be found if you dug down into a place ‘so overcharged with dead’. Katy tells me that a campaign is being run to turn this area of land  into an official memorial garden instead of the carpark that TFL are proposing, so that the souls of the prostitutes who were treated with such hypocrisy by the Church can finally be given some respect. It’s a cause that really deserves some attention and you can find more information on the graveyard and an upcoming fundraiser on the 2nd of December here.

As I said my goodbyes to Vanessa and Katy and went upstairs to take my seat amongst the crowd, a sense of optimism took hold of me and only grew as the event progressed. Girl Fawkes made me feel incredibly positive; positive to find people who boldly campaign for what they believe in and positive that at a great feminist arts event there can be no negativity whatsoever. Ladyfest Ten is taking place from the 12th until the 14th of November in various London venues and you can buy tickets here.

alexrowse.blogspot.com

Filed under: Poetry International 2010 | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments »

On libraries and the Poetry Library

Posted on November 4, 2010 by Alex Rowse

When I got my first library card, I remember thinking that it resembled a ‘money card’, like the one my mother used to pay in the supermarket. It had grey and white stripes, with my name inked above the sticky-back-plastic barcode. Now languishing somewhere in my old bedroom at my mother’s, the stripes faded to cream, I’m not sure if I could still use it in the small, bungalow-esque library in West Sussex that my mother used to take me to every week. I picked up a bad habit in skim reading from a young age (which helps a little at University) and by Junior School was taking out the maximum of 10 books a week. People always say ‘devour’ in relation to books, and that’s truly what we do. I gobbled and digested Judy Blume, Enid Blyton, The Babysitters Club, Nancy Drew, Goosebumps and Penguin Classics. Then, a library to me was carpet-tiles, A-Z, musty smells, old people and smiley librarians. Now, years on as a University of London student my idea of a perfect library is defined in Senate House. The peace and quiet of the warm, woody interior; the twists and turns to find the book you need; the beautiful Middlesex South Library; the sense of being tucked away from the busy world outside. What’s the appeal in new editions when stamped, read and loved books can sit in your hands?

Yesterday it was a pleasure for me to meet Miriam Valencia, who is joint librarian at Southbank Centre’s wonderful Poetry Library, before I attended a poetry reading there to launch the latest issue of Brittle Star Magazine. She’s been here for about six years and seemed the ideal authority to ask a few questions about libraries, her library in particular and the possible death of the book.

What does your work involve in the Poetry Library?

My role is co-ordinating what the team does, acquiring books for the library, magazines and audio-visual. We run an information service through our website, we run events and workshops for schools. We also have our digitalisation website that my colleage, Chris, oversees, which means providing digital access to a lot of the magazines collection. Magazines are part and parcel of the poetry lifestyle so to speak, and it’s difficult to get hold of those beyond the London scene.

And what makes the Poetry Library special?

In terms of publicly accessible poetry collections it’s probably the biggest in the UK. We collect poetry from 1912 onwards but saying that we hope to be able to provide the older material for people through different means such as databases we subscribe to. Most libraries try to be more than ‘just a library’ so to speak. Libraries in general are about engaging people with reading and learning and the Poetry Library is no different. We have an events series once a month, but we have other events that include regular visits from primary schools which is very important to us as we’re engaging with the local community and encouraging young people to find a place in poetry, or a place for poetry. We also have exhibitions in the library; either about the artist exploring the library or some kind of connection with events going on around Southbank Centre.

One of the really important things that I’ve experience in the library, and what other people have too is it’s a meeting place where you encounter other poets or other poetry readers. There’s a sense of the reading and the writing, a meeting in that way. Also I think there’s an important intellectual meeting between those writing now and the poets they’re reading. In a way, that’s really significant to writing poetry: how you’ve digested what you’ve read and how that’s nourishing your writing.

What are the memorable reactions to the library, from people coming for the first or fiftieth time?

Often what we hear is ‘I can’t believe I didn’t know you were here’, so we’re always trying to spread the word about the library because so many people describe it as ‘a hidden gem’. We’re constantly trying to make people aware. We did have to close the library for two years during the refurbishment of the Festival Hall and I think people felt very bereaved by that, they were very emotional about the prospect.

Finally, what would you say to the idea that the digitalisation of books and the popularity of e-books could threaten libraries as an institution?

I think the answer lies in what we were talking about before, in that a library is much more than a collection of books. It’s about how you provide access to books, how they’re organised, how the catalogue helps you find stuff, how the staff know it and how people experience the physicality of the library. It’s more than a sum of  it’s parts: it’s more than a hundred thousand books, it’s a library of a hundred thousand books. That sounds quite mundane but poems aren’t needles in haystacks, and we can help you find that needle in a haystack. You can do that.

I believe the book has lasted for a hell of a long time, and I don’t see it diminishing. I’ve heard that book sales are soaring and whilst you might have independent bookshops disappearing and publishing houses gobbling each other up, on the other side of it smaller print runs are possible at less expense. I think what’s really important is just that people are so emotionally attached to the book.


I completely agree with Miriam that emotional attachment to the physicality of the book and the atmosphere of the ‘intellectual meeting-place’ means that the death of the library is an unrealistic prospect. If not, and we find ourselves in 50 years time (as a consequence of even more dramatic funding cuts to the arts) in an awful dystopia of floating touch screens and empty bookshelves I shall endeavor to convert my entire home into a public library where you shall all be very welcome.

Thanks to Miriam for chatting to me, and if anyone is on the hunt for a good poetry magazine what I heard read at the Brittle Star event was fantastic.

alexrowse.blogspot.com

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Plaintive blessings…

Posted on November 4, 2010 by Comfort Nwabia

So…
I thought I wanted to start this in a really cheesy way. You know, the old ‘guess who’s back, back again’ thing. Then I remembered I was blogging on behalf of a proper like serious establishment (don’t get upset about my colloquial language peeps; it’s poetic). You may, (and yet are unlikely too) remember me blogging during this year’s London Literature Festival. I love Southbank Centre – that’s Southbank Centre and not The Southbank Centre because that would just be wrong – so blogging for this year Poetry International Festival is an honour.

And so to business. On Monday, I went to see Philip Gross with Simon Armitage. I will openly admit now, that I had never heard of Philip Gross. I know it’s like suicide, I know it’s like I’ve let a bomb go off, but if nothing else it’s the truth. It was my deep rooted affection for Armitage’s work, cemented in me from the age of 15 when I first encountered Hitcher in my GCSE AQA Anthology that drew me to the event. So, I can honestly say I had no idea what to expect. So, he’d won the TS Eliot Prize last year, so what? I’ve learnt better than to judge any artistic person on the prizes they win. I’m not saying that prizes are not significantly important, and as he pointed out significant for the writer’s self-satisfaction. I just believe that you’re only as good as people feel you are. Getting prizes for this therefore seems peripheral. Anyway, away from this tangent…

…Yet, when I sat down and heard that the theme for that night’s event was Landscape and Place, I found myself suppressing an inward groan. I could not imagine, even with my limited knowledge, how anyone possibly could have an original approach to such clearly concrete themes? Yet, as I listened to him read his work, I began to realise that his approach invites these aforementioned concrete ideas for the abstract concepts to stand tall and proud on. It was all very clever. No, it was far more than clever, it was natural, ‘So little thinking of its own beauty’.

He talked endearingly but briefly of his father and their relationship, and the Estonian tradition of ‘not saying’ which he saw as an endowment in some ways. This was evident in his work, which I liked. In fact, there was something about his whole manner which held the unassuming air of ‘not saying’. I only wish I could find the poem which he chose not to read. This silent anticipation is what I believe kept us all gripped throughout the event, despite the themes first appearing highly dull.

One of the last things he said, ‘I don’t think you can teach anybody to be a great writer’ left me in an inner struggle. Perhaps, he’s right. I’ve often felt this is the case. However, does that exclude poets who write poetry, terrible or not, from being considered as real poets? It’s a thought-provoking quote, and one I will chew on for the rest of the festival, for your pleasure.

Philip Gross read from The Water Table, I Spy Pinhole Eye and Off Road To Everywhere and the event was hosted by Simon Armitage, a Southbank Centre Artist in Residence.

I must say(I really must) I found the event highly inspirational, and wished I had know about Philip Gross long before so I would have know what to ask when it came to the Q&A. Only the typical student poverty which currently plagues me stopped me from buying at least one of his books. Out of the night came this strange little piece. Now I’ve set myself a challenge – I intend to put this poem and any poem I write inspired by the festival in a strange place in SBC by the end of this festival. I’m not sure what place yet, but you will see soon. In the meantime, enjoy:

Resonant Space

…Freefall
Dryness
Quietness
Reflection
Knowing
Far more
Small
Worlds
Dreams
Moment
Uniqueness!
Silence
Precious?
What a state?
Resonant space…

Filed under: Misc, Poetry International 2010 | Tagged: , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Brian Turner Reads From “Phantom Noise”

Posted on October 28, 2010 by CHRISSYPL

“When the boy brings us a platter of fruit,
I mistake cantaloupe for a human skull.

Sometimes the gunman fires into the house.
Sometimes the gunman fires at me.

Every night it’s different.
Every night the same.”

from ‘VA Hospital Confession’

Brian Turner’s first book of poems Here, Bullet was written while he was in service during the Iraq war. His second book Phantom Noise was published six years after he left the army, and in it he writes about the ghosts of war that still haunt his civilian life.

Weapons flash before him in hardware stores, his home becomes a battleground and even his childhood memories are invaded; his past rewritten in the language of war. Turner is influenced by Middle Eastern writers, drawing from poets such as Abdul-Wahab Al-Bayati, Mahd Al-Aadiyya and Ahmad Shauqi, setting them against a personal backdrop of Roy Rogers, Kentucky bourbon and Californian lawn sprinklers. The book has recently been shortlisted for the T. S. Eliot Prize and Carolyn Forché calls his work “a poignant cri de coeur to the republic of conscience”.

Turner will be reading from his new book on Saturday as part of our Poetry International festival, and the audience will be given the opportunity to ask questions at the end. There are just a few tickets left for this event, which you can purchase here.

Phantom Noise

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