tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76922089730476540182024-03-13T12:30:59.191+00:00Keyhole SurgeryMy soul is a tin can in the rain, maybe a little rusty, but at least it's full.John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.comBlogger75125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-63673260698889223522010-09-29T19:51:00.004+01:002010-10-04T20:01:25.425+01:00Rain<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/TKoig0WOIVI/AAAAAAAAASw/7Kh543TvTBs/s1600/P1030445.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/TKoig0WOIVI/AAAAAAAAASw/7Kh543TvTBs/s320/P1030445.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524265840126337362" /></a> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">Some time ago when I was first researching the possibility of a move to Newcastle I stumbled across a fact that almost put me off the place. According to the brilliantly inspired source of fictional knowledge known as Wikipedia, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Newcastle_upon_Tyne">Newcastle is one of the driest cities in the UK, with an average of only 121 rainy days per year.</a></p>Now I say this is something that almost put me off the city as I am a man who likes his rain, however I can confirm that this fact is utter rubbish. It’s rained here non-stop for over a week now. In fact I was almost laughed out of town by estate agents I was brave enough to share this nugget with.<br /><br />To honor the weather in verse I headed to the Lit & Phil yesterday evening for a reading by some of the UK’s top poets including Don Paterson, author of 2009 Forward Poetry Prize winning collection <span style="font-style:italic;">‘Rain.’</span> Incredible to see three giants of contemporary poetry (w/ Jo Shapcott and Sean O'Brien) in support at this fundraiser for the beautiful <a href="http://www.litandphil.org.uk/html_pages/LP_home.html">Lit & Phil</a> which is in need of various improvements to bring the 1825 built library in line with public expectations.<br /><br />Meanwhile, the rain keeps falling…John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-59979197344713841242010-09-22T11:58:00.006+01:002010-09-22T21:01:24.899+01:00Joanna Newsom @ The Sage, Gateshead<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/TJnk3hQkk6I/AAAAAAAAASo/TlZdao6Ex7o/s1600/DownloadedFile.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 183px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/TJnk3hQkk6I/AAAAAAAAASo/TlZdao6Ex7o/s320/DownloadedFile.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519694460791067554" /></a>Joanna Newsom has always been a surprise. From the time in Cambridge where Melanie and I sat entranced listening to an enthusiastic barman describe his latest find, ‘The Milk Eyed Mender,’ to the time I discreetly heard rumour of a three disc extravaganza appearing in under a month (‘Have One On Me’) to the time I stumbled upon her performing at The Sage in Gateshead following a haste move to the North.<br /><br />Seeing Newsom in person is another surprise itself. Once master of playful childish voices, her voice has now grown stronger and more commanding and the three-minute ditties of ‘Milk Eyed Mender’ have given way to lavish fantasy fueled classic arrangements (courtesy of musicians and composers Ryan Francesconi and Neal Morgan). ‘Y’s’ was a vast departure when it hit the shelves in 2006, containing sixteen-minute tracks that had more in common with prog rock than the folk-pop brush critics usually used to describe her sound.<br /><br />I have to mention the poetry of her words, ‘your soul is something I stir into my tea’. Small gems thread into detailed and arguably personal adventures. ‘In California’ she seemingly dismisses her early stuff ‘My home, on the old Milk Lane/where the darkness does fall so fast/it feels like some kind of mistake’. Her words shape-shift and envelope you till you can’t ‘remember your own name’ to quote set highlight ‘Good Intentions Paving Co,’ a song that sends shivers through my face everytime she wavers into ‘and the tilt of this strange nation,’ before the track polishes off with a fantastically hazy trombone solo. In a special touch the violinists downed bows to click their rings against empty bottles of Newcastle Brown Ale, a nice nod to the locals.<br /><br />In a set drawing heavily from ‘Have One On Me’ Newsom also dusted off ‘Inflammatory Writ’, ‘The Book of Right On’ and ‘Peach, Plum, Pear’ as well as ‘Cosmia’ and ‘Monkey & Bear’ from ‘Ys’. A perfect set would it have been if only she had included ‘Baby Birch’ and ‘This Side of the Blue,’ but that gives me an excuse to see her again one day.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/TJnkZwfdiqI/AAAAAAAAASg/dUj2pzNCKH8/s1600/P1030571.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 258px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/TJnkZwfdiqI/AAAAAAAAASg/dUj2pzNCKH8/s320/P1030571.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519693949483977378" /></a>Supporting Newsom, who brought him out of ‘semi retirement’ was folk legend Roy Harper. Still strong after 40+ years in the music business Harper treated us to a range of classics from 1970’s release ‘Flat Baroque and Berserk’ including ‘Don’t You Grieve’ and ‘Francesca’ to more modern releases like ‘The Green Man’. All tracks were accompanied by top introductions and political/spiritual disagreements with the topical Papal visit, Harper rather slyly enjoying the Pope’s label for us atheists as ‘militant extremists’.<br /><br />All round a fantastic night, and my first proper gig in the Newcastle/Gateshead area. It’s important though to state this gig at the Sage was on the southside in Gateshead, where we’ve recently lost a car park. Make sure you don’t mix the two up…John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-16198117273786360162010-09-19T14:11:00.004+01:002010-09-19T14:27:49.791+01:00Jog on the Tyne<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/TJYOXdBIuYI/AAAAAAAAAR4/P-yiKDjuGGw/s1600/P1030472.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/TJYOXdBIuYI/AAAAAAAAAR4/P-yiKDjuGGw/s320/P1030472.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518614189478295938" /></a> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Imagine fifty four thousand people running across a bridge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Next consider their clothing, a Bananaman outfit perhaps?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Or a well built fella in a tutu, a bumble bee suit, Batman and Robin, a unicorn hat, where’s wally, panadas, firemen, donkeys, matching chickens?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Then conjure the sounds, the chants, the claps, yells whistles and bells, the oggy oggy oggy’s and the oi oi oi’s, a band playing Georgie folk tunes on a roundabout in Gateshead, a drumming group and the piecing overhead cry of the red arrows dispersing red white and blue over the Tyne, and you get the 30th Great North Run from Newcastle to South Shields, the North’s answer to the London Marathon.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"> <!--StartFragment--> </span></p><span lang="EN-US"><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">It can get a little rocky on the Tyne bridge as the joggers still fresh after a mile in clamber over to the clapping revelry of watchers and supporters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>At points its like being on a boat as it bobs along the waves. </span></p> <!--EndFragment--> </span><p></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/TJYPPXYI9QI/AAAAAAAAASA/8mBBkstqoDQ/s1600/P1030551.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/TJYPPXYI9QI/AAAAAAAAASA/8mBBkstqoDQ/s320/P1030551.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518615150036841730" /></a>Since beginning in 1981 the Great North Run is the largest half marathon in Europe, and estimates that over 1 million runners will have completed the course by the time it reaches its 35th anniversary. <br /><br />Up with the larks this morning to take pictures I was greeted all round with good spirit, and being new to Newcastle it was a welcome pleasure in contrast to my London roots. The run really is an institution up here and one I hope to participate in this time next year. A jog on the Tyne sure is all fine, all fine.John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-22250675580011404642010-08-20T11:19:00.000+01:002010-09-20T11:33:44.940+01:00Anthony Joseph in Soho<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">At the same wonderful Apples & Snakes gig where I filmed Joolz Denby, was poet, musician and academic, Anthony Joseph, reading from his most recent collection ‘Bird Head Son’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Taking for his theme his Trinidad roots, the book explores family, ancestry, language and the mythology of the Caribbean island all in Joseph’s surreal and musical style.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> You can buy 'Bird Head Son' direct from Salt Publishing <a href="http://www.saltpublishing.com/books/smp/9781844714353.htm">here</a>.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>Here he reads and discusses ‘Jack Spaniard nest'.</span></p><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/9XHtYm_v3nA?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/9XHtYm_v3nA?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-5480555277188293742010-07-27T11:17:00.005+01:002010-07-27T11:24:36.843+01:00I hung my head<o:p></o:p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/TE6yeWcKIMI/AAAAAAAAARo/WaNNX6LnvIY/s1600/_46480726_knifecrime226.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 226px; height: 282px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/TE6yeWcKIMI/AAAAAAAAARo/WaNNX6LnvIY/s320/_46480726_knifecrime226.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498528429555458242" border="0" /></a><br />I’ve been re-listening to Johnny Cash’s American recordings this week and there’s a cover of a Sting track (from his 2002 album ‘Mercury Falling’) that strikes me as particularly relevant. On first listen it’s a murder ballad telling the story of a young man who upon taking his brother’s rifle accidently shoots a man.<br /><br />The perpetrator claims he was practising his aim when the rifle went off without intent to shoot the lone rider on the prairie, similar to that of a gang of youths intent on scaring another when one accidently knifes the other and leaves one of them dead. ‘I hung my head’ is a story about shame, it’s a warning to think before you act. The protagonist didn’t want to kill anyone, his thrill was the role play of the situation. Although when playing with dangerous instruments so carelessly the situation will inevitably end in tragedy.<br /><br />To me this song should be taught in schools. Don’t be foolish, don’t carry knives or guns, don’t pretend to hurt people or practise your aim, because inevitably it will end in tears, shame and a public stoning from the tabloids (modern day Gallows if you will?). Think before you act! There, rant done for the morning.John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-89523065670866885462010-07-21T13:43:00.002+01:002010-07-21T14:47:13.943+01:00Joolz Denby in SohoRecently I was tasked with helping <a href="http://www.applesandsnakes.org/">Apples & Snakes</a> with a new filming project. The challenge was to create a film of a poetry reading that varied from the traditional 'front on' approach with a static poet square in the centre. We also wanted to make it as clear as possible to the audience what the poem was actually about.<br /><br />So, we asked the poet to tell us about the poem, then we filmed them from two angles to add a bit of diversity into the mix. First up was Joolz Denby...<br /><br /><object width="400" height="320"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=13125966&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1"><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=13125966&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="400" height="320"></embed></object><p><a href="http://vimeo.com/13125966">Joolz Denby performs 'Smoking Joe'</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/applesandsnakes">Apples and Snakes</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</p>John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-91857167458464165452010-06-17T20:53:00.003+01:002010-07-01T23:25:56.425+01:00Trashed Exultations<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/TCzyisAG6xI/AAAAAAAAARg/CrNhQZjalYg/s1600/trashed-organ-A4-2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 226px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/TCzyisAG6xI/AAAAAAAAARg/CrNhQZjalYg/s320/trashed-organ-A4-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489028723598879506" /></a><br />So my Keyhole followers, I’ve been absent for a while I know. But it’s been for a very good reason.<br /><br />Last night saw the first ever Trashed Organ event. You may remember I rambled on about this organ from Clerkenwell Green a few months ago, but since then the beat up musical instrument became a idea for an event, which became a night of poems and music, which actually happened.<br /><br />Our colosseum? The eclectic Duchess pub overlooking the industrial splendor of Battersea Power Station that held court to a ramshackle parade of ditty day dreamers, gramma correcting, cock jangling, love struck writers.<br /><br />We had stories of house hunting colonists on safari, fabric softeners and horrendous chat-up lines, Bakerloo and Victoria, sausage sandwiches, Norton Cannes, piratical marketeers, south London chav lads sprouting angel wings and the charming rustic rhythms of <a href="http://www.myspace.com/apolystyrenehat">A Polystyrene Hat.</a><br /><br />With a line up boasting <a href="http://courttianewland.com/">Courttia Newland,</a> Katie Bonna, Ben Gilbert, <a href="http://spiltmilkmag.co.uk/">Sam Peczek,</a> and fellow organ grinder Rob Haughton the night far exceeded all expectations.<br /><br />So, thank you’s are due to our fantastic audience who gave up a World Cup Wednesday to come to our trashed delicatessen half a mile from the nearest tube. Please accept our trashed exultations! We also thank you for taking part in our fancy little game, ‘Trashed Laureate’. Congratulations are in order for the winner of a bottle of our home brew port with the line <i>‘The elephant man was ok. He was just born in the wrong dimension.’ </i> Truly profound.<br /><br />So what next I hear you cry over a violin stringed moment of off-key bliss? Stay tuned our trashed friends, for Trashed Organ 2: Judgement Day, coming soon…John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-87947612092134700382010-05-02T10:12:00.002+01:002010-05-02T10:20:27.150+01:00Punk Magazine<object width="420" height="295"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Scr2TAOW38U&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Scr2TAOW38U&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="420" height="295"></embed></object><br /><br />I stumbled across this video the other day of Punk Magazine founders, John Hallstrom and Legs McNeil (resident punk) talking about the infamous 70s fanzine in NYC. I admire their DIY ethos and the ‘just whack it’ approach, to which the interviewer can’t quite understand where they get the funds to keep the enterprise running. There are some amusing comments towards the end about ‘London kids’, to whom punk is only fashion, “Would you want a safety pin up your nose?” and “They’re all morons.”<br /><br />All in all, the sarcasm adds to the image and help creates an inspiring document for anyone who wants to make and distribute something themselves. Although I do think they're hiding something...John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-87223489996813263362010-04-17T12:26:00.003+01:002010-04-18T12:34:20.858+01:00Spilt Milk<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S8rskOwK92I/AAAAAAAAARA/m6C_s5rxdx8/s1600/Spilt+Milk.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 216px; height: 201px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S8rskOwK92I/AAAAAAAAARA/m6C_s5rxdx8/s320/Spilt+Milk.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461437605319735138" /></a><br />A weekend treat to go down with the sun. A new and exciting bundle of chapbooks, pamphlets, and micro anthology’s to review for Hand & Star. I like it when poems arrive in short punchy bursts, an afternoon long package that can be devoured, critiqued and praised over a few short Sunday hours with a glass of water and a bourbon biscuit.<br /><br />In other news my poem ‘July’ features in issue 2 of the delicious 'Spilt Milk', a culinary platter of warm foamy words, which can be viewed online <a href="http://spiltmilkmag.co.uk/#/john-challis-issue-two/4540031063">here</a>, enjoy!John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-6981510637083927182010-04-14T21:26:00.003+01:002010-04-14T21:32:29.446+01:00A Plate of Chicken<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S8YlZ0rHpkI/AAAAAAAAAQo/8nMuEwr5558/s1600/plateofchicken.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 173px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S8YlZ0rHpkI/AAAAAAAAAQo/8nMuEwr5558/s320/plateofchicken.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460092723799762498" /></a><p class="MsoNormal">During a recent trip to NYC I stumbled across NoLita bookshop <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">McNally & Jackson</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Amazed at a poetry section that gave more shelf space to poets I’d never heard of I pulled out the rather square shaped book of Matthew Rohrer’s gastronomically titled ‘A Plate of Chicken.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Inside were sixty-one pages given over to a collection of seven line stanzas, acting as the spinal vertebrae of one continuous poem drawn over a long hot New York summer.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">At first glance it’s a random assembly of lines that have little coherence with each other, that read more like catharsis for the author, purging the substance of his mind to fill the chicken bones with meat (the book doubles as a flick-book, depicting the devouring of a plate of chicken).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>But look again and see the first and last lines of each seven line stanza conclude with the same word, weaving a small theme into every poem;<br /><br /><i>If you don’t pay attention you’ll slip into a hole.<br />Don’t we all understand evil?<br />I knelt to the floor to stare at the baby.<br />Infinite variation in each moment. We’re home.<br />Coffee smells better than riches.<br />I like to lie back and think of my next job.<br />I plan an elaborate leap into a deeper hole.</i><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">It’s full of poetic instructions and garbled imagery, and at times Rohrer takes the role of throwaway philosopher for the mundane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">‘The gate to hell is through the loop of a neck tie.’</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Cleverly crafting one-liners that you'll want to add to your facebook status.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Although Rohrer’s meal can be a tough one to chew at times, with his penchant for one liners that read like quotes on the back of witty birthday cards, he delivers some hugely stimulating ideas;</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span lang="EN-US">My function, is to be in love between two people who hate each other.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Rohrer himself states, that the chicken title seemed right to put across his attempt to unite poetry with the mundane and everyday, rather than attempting to be prophetic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>For him, poetry is a way to explore the normality of life, spilling out hundreds of poems in a few days just like the hundreds of words we use everyday to explain whatever it is we do.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">There is no resolution to anything in ‘A Plate of Chicken’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The meditative nature of these lines give us little insight to the normality of the poets life, but remind us their existence isn’t to change anything, but to just live on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The book has so many great lines it’s hard to pull a quote that does it justice, although there is one that has stuck with me, and seems to live up to the instructional, philosophical, mundane tone the poems favour, and makes me want to give it a go.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span lang="EN-US">When all hope seems lost, write your name on paper and flush it down the toilet.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-19728756422195234212010-04-06T08:20:00.003+01:002010-04-12T13:14:20.116+01:00The Sparks<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S8Lm2TfNJQI/AAAAAAAAAQg/owvmtXtV2EI/s1600/benwilk.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 132px; height: 217px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S8Lm2TfNJQI/AAAAAAAAAQg/owvmtXtV2EI/s320/benwilk.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459179518944945410" /></a><p class="MsoNormal">I have a new review up on <a href="http://www.handandstar.co.uk/?p=770">Hand & Star of Ben Wilkinson’s pamphlet<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>‘The Sparks.’</a> I gave it 4 stars as it’s a great short read full of shadows, weather and flickering lights. A stormy bunch of poems, good to read with a cup of tea by the window.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Be sure to also check out Ben’s blog, <a href="http://deconstructivewasteland.blogspot.com/">Deconstructive Wasteland</a> for musings and literary news.</span></p> <!--EndFragment-->John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-88594955667426800912010-03-20T12:27:00.002+00:002010-03-20T12:33:43.763+00:00Trashed Organ<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S6TAcO6uZII/AAAAAAAAAQY/asCFeIuvm4s/s1600-h/IMG_2221.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S6TAcO6uZII/AAAAAAAAAQY/asCFeIuvm4s/s320/IMG_2221.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450693040298419330" /></a> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Walking back from Exmouth Market yesterday with a 6pound beef stew curry in hand shouldering a light rain, we passed a trashed organ on the side, by Clerkenwell Green.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Its rain-splashed keys, grimy with car exhaust sat restless like a child in a waiting room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Its electronic boards hung like eyeballs from sockets pulled by fox mouthed scavengers, and the pedal hung limp like a deck bound beaten fish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>An empty paper cup spewed grassy moss and a cigarette butt pouted from the roof like a decapitated tree stump.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I smeared a finger along it’s music and didn’t hear a sound.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p>Later the spice from the food would creep in on stilts and blade its way over my mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had to drink a glass of water.</o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-59285591984432891582010-02-28T19:24:00.005+00:002010-02-28T19:47:24.594+00:00Introducing...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S4rDT9Jqp8I/AAAAAAAAAQI/2jXMuVSVfRE/s1600-h/P1060006.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S4rDT9Jqp8I/AAAAAAAAAQI/2jXMuVSVfRE/s320/P1060006.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443377847230703554" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p>Donald Dunstan, a 46 year old electrician with a slightly tubby belly, massive sideburns and bushy eyebrows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Donald is unusually tall, clocking in at 6’7.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>His work mates call him ‘Duny’ (after the Australian slang for toilet) on account of his time specific bowel movements.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He was originally born in Clacton-On-Sea, although now lives in Wisbech, Cambridgeshire with his wife and two children, a girl and boy, 21 and 17 respectively.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He’s somewhat conservative in views and left school at an early age to pursue a vocation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A photograph of him with a bucket and spade and his parents on Clacton beach sums up his most consistently happy memory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He secretly hopes one day his family will settle there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>His ambition is to retire as soon as possible, and his greatest fear is never being able to afford to.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p>Donald is the product of a fruitful day spent at <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">The Royal Court</i> taking part in a playwriting workshop hosted by <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Penpals</i> and London literature developers <a href="http://www.spreadtheword.org.uk/"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Spread the Word.</i></a><br /></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p>Led by award winning playwright Alia Bano, (featured in today’s <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/stage/2010/feb/28/david-edgar-new-political-theatre">Observer</a>) author of the critically acclaimed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Shades, </i>it was great to dedicate time to developing ideas for the stage amongst peers, and<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"> </i>before long I had a pen portrait of the somewhat unexpected Donald.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Here’s a typical conversation with Donald, using the 10, 9, 8, 7, 6… words game.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">(Don and Friend are sitting in a pub)</span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span lang="EN-US">Don</span></b><span lang="EN-US">: Lost my pension the other day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Company went completely broke.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span lang="EN-US">Friend:</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> Money’s safer under the mattress these days, you know?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span lang="EN-US">Don</span></b><span lang="EN-US">: Until some sod breaks in while you’re away.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span lang="EN-US">Friend</span></b><span lang="EN-US">: Heard about that, what did you loose?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span lang="EN-US">Don</span></b><span lang="EN-US">: The cash that’s under the mattress.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span lang="EN-US">Friend</span></b><span lang="EN-US">: Christ, that’s rotten luck mate.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span lang="EN-US">Don</span></b><span lang="EN-US">: I know, I’m skint.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span lang="EN-US">Friend</span></b><span lang="EN-US">: Next rounds mine.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span lang="EN-US">Don</span></b><span lang="EN-US">: Whiskey, thanks.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span lang="EN-US">Friend</span></b><span lang="EN-US">: Sure.</span></p> <!--EndFragment-->John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-81875734712717485142010-01-17T14:05:00.009+00:002010-01-24T14:31:05.506+00:00Exploring Downtown<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1xUhi0i4JI/AAAAAAAAAPI/2RXPPSTyiF4/s1600-h/P1020060.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1xUhi0i4JI/AAAAAAAAAPI/2RXPPSTyiF4/s320/P1020060.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430308185961586834" /></a> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">When I open my eyes Sunday has began.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I shower, dress and explore downtown with The Velvet Underground’s ‘Sunday Morning’ playing in my head.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">I take a left outside the Holiday Inn down Howard Street and cut across Broadway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I meander my way through the closed boutiques of Soho and Noho until I find myself in the Village.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I pause for a moment in Washington Square park and watch the dog walkers circle the paths.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A few moments later I stumble across several shop windows with puppies in them.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><!--StartFragment--> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">I’m looking for a record shop and am having no luck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The Virgin in Times Square has closed down, and the Jazz Record Centre on 26<sup>th</sup> was another victim of recession.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I’m after the expensive jazz cds you only get in Rays on Charing Cross, ones from the Tzadik and Nonesuch labels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Instead I find adland signified by the polished buildings of Saatchi & Saatchi and Euro RSCG.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Both offices have Kandinsky rip off’s on the walls, a usual favourite of banks in London, although I imagine it’s to demonstrate the limitless of their creative expression.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s wallpaper to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I’m now back by the Hudson, then I walk East down Charlton Street and find a church playing ice cream van music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Churches are strange in NYC.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Beautiful buildings, but lacking in history compared to European equivalents.</span></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1xVOUTPNII/AAAAAAAAAPQ/JaXQWNW50iI/s1600-h/P1020063.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1xVOUTPNII/AAAAAAAAAPQ/JaXQWNW50iI/s320/P1020063.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430308955157902466" /></a>At midday I find myself gravitating towards NoLita. I walk down Spring Street, lunch at the organic Spring Street Natural Restaurant and shop at Canadian import <a href="http://mcnallyjackson.com/"><i>McNally & Jackson </i></a> as it begins to rain. I spend too much on poetry books. The amount of new writing journals is astounding, and their presentation creative. ‘A Plate of Chicken’ by Matthew Rohrer’ reminds me of a poem I wrote called ‘Chicken Skin Music’ (a domestic heart attack) after the Ry Cooder album. The book introduces me to the Brooklyn based <a href="http://www.uglyducklingpresse.org/"><i> Ugly Duckling Presse,</i></a> a non-profit art and publishing collective focusing on emerging and forgotten writers. I admire their design.<div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1xXJy1Z9gI/AAAAAAAAAPY/BqTyisr2c4A/s1600-h/P1020066.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1xXJy1Z9gI/AAAAAAAAAPY/BqTyisr2c4A/s320/P1020066.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430311076478187010" /></a> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">On the way back to the hotel I pass <i><a href="http://www.eileenscheesecake.com/">Elieen’s Special Cheesecake</a> </i>and think of my Nan.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> </div>John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-79762541290630664152010-01-16T22:10:00.002+00:002010-01-23T14:20:56.443+00:00Devoted and Disgruntled NYC<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1sDvKbM9EI/AAAAAAAAAOw/_Nf7_l1CndI/s1600-h/P1020053.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1sDvKbM9EI/AAAAAAAAAOw/_Nf7_l1CndI/s320/P1020053.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429937884512449602" /></a> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">We rise as the first yellow taxi belts its horn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The sun is still sleeping and for now our only light is an orange eco friendly lamp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">By 6.30am we’re on the subway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>‘N’ train to 42nd Street, ‘1’ train to Columbus Circle, coffee and a Panini to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>At 7am I’m on a ladder sticking up the 4 principles of open space.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>‘Whoever comes are the right people,’ ‘Whenever it starts is the right time,’ ‘Whatever happens is the only thing that could happen,’ ‘When it’s over it’s over.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They read more like philosophical quotations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Instructions for dealing with modern life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Rules to help free yourself from the conventions and expectations of others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Tell yourself these four things often enough, and life doesn’t seem so pressured to ‘get it right.’<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">The first guests arrive at 9.30.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Laurence & Tarah from Anderson amongst them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Improbable Artistic Director and leading Open Space practitioner Phelim McDermott opens the space at 10.30.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>What’s strikingly different about the NYC one over the London D&Ds is that the participants are up in seconds to call their sessions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>In London a serene politeness usually settles over the crowd as they wait for the first brave soul to break the silence and call a session.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The New Yorkers are queuing at the word ‘go’ to call theirs over the microphone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I decide to call a couple of sessions around Funeral Customs and creating trailers for theatre shows.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">The first session I attend, called by Steven Ginsburg of <a href="http://www.hartbeatensemble.org/HartBeat/Welcome.html"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Hartbeat Ensemble</i></a> discusses Free Theatre.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Ginsburg himself runs an activist-based theatre company interested in social change and creating new works that challenge the status quo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He wants to discuss ideas of a ‘free’ theatre model whereby the audience sees the show for free.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We discuss various models; pay what you can, complimentary ticket giveaways, but we also discuss how theatre and performance worked in the past.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>With the noblemen and landowners inviting the travelling gypsies to perform in their manors, and inviting all the peasants along to enjoy the show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Theatre was less ‘institutionalised’ then, without a real industry to call home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s great to see so many artists trying to work out models to give the audience something for free, but it’s hard to see how anything can be truly free when we live in an age where time itself has a monetary value.</span></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1sECcotVPI/AAAAAAAAAO4/tL2IdctuAis/s1600-h/IMG_0303.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1sECcotVPI/AAAAAAAAAO4/tL2IdctuAis/s320/IMG_0303.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429938215818450162" /></a><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB"><o:p>At lunchtime I go for a walk around the area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I feel a cold coming on and the fresh sun air is light and full of wellbeing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I take a left outside the church and walk along 58<sup>th</sup> West until I reach the Hudson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I see a kid with nunchucks in his back pocket, at least it’s not a knife I find myself thinking.</o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">The day wraps up at 6pm, and after meeting many fabulous people, including the beautiful Juliet who bakes the best brownies I’ve ever tasted, we retire to Lafayette.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB"><o:p> Saturday draws to a close in Little Italy where we’re encouraged to add sambuca to our espressos.</o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-18881841244111210942010-01-15T23:03:00.004+00:002010-01-23T13:40:23.425+00:00The Church of St Paul the Apostle<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">The setup for Devoted and Disgruntled begins at 9.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s the first time Improbable have done one stateside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s an arts/theatre meet up held in ‘open space’ where participants are encouraged to set the agenda for the meet up by raising questions about areas of the arts that interest them.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB"><o:p> We get there a little frazzled after the Lower East Side - Upper West Side subway dash, but the trains seemed nowhere near as busy as London. And although no regular announcements told us to let passengers off before we got on, everyone treated each other with respect, straight from the pages of the unwritten laws of the commuter.</o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1rmZpT5O6I/AAAAAAAAAOY/WDk0aG-NlQk/s1600-h/P1020042.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1rmZpT5O6I/AAAAAAAAAOY/WDk0aG-NlQk/s320/P1020042.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429905629008968610" /></a> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">After 4 hours of drawing butterfly's and bees underneath The Church of St Paul the Apostle we escape into the sun for some natural vitamin C.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Central Park is beautiful with its naked trees and fifty odd statues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The day is warm; around 8 degrees and we begin to sweat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We check out the Alice in Wonderland Statue, record some buskers play jazz on a sweet afternoon, and finally make our way to the Guggenheim.</span></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1rnS85Wb4I/AAAAAAAAAOg/8dXHTyTe2q4/s1600-h/P1020046.JPG"></a><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1rnS85Wb4I/AAAAAAAAAOg/8dXHTyTe2q4/s1600-h/P1020046.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1rnS85Wb4I/AAAAAAAAAOg/8dXHTyTe2q4/s320/P1020046.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429906613518888834" /></a> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">Sadly a large proportion of the museum is closed due to installations being set up, but we see our share of Kandinskys’ and the roots of impressionist painting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We have the most amazing lunch there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A Wright Salad with a ‘gently boiled egg.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1rog7r8eMI/AAAAAAAAAOo/fnA2iDDcNfk/s1600-h/P1020047.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1rog7r8eMI/AAAAAAAAAOo/fnA2iDDcNfk/s320/P1020047.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429907953224022210" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal">Next we walk for perhaps too long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Right down Park Ave from 88<sup>th</sup> to 43<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">rd</span></span> yet we get to see Josh Harnett get of out a cab with a little dog in his arms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I think I know where he lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We stumble through Grand Central and I imagine <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">The Untouchables.</i></p> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">Back at Lafayette we regroup and head back uptown to Times Square were David Blaine is raising money for Haiti.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We meet our friends from Anderson, IN who we haven’t seen in a year and a half.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We grab a drink at Ruby Tuesday’s before jumping in a cab downtown to Bleeker Street, where Bob Dylan once lived.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">We catch up over Sam Adams in a trendy Village bar.</p> <!--EndFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> </div>John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-87072034162377996482010-01-14T23:41:00.001+00:002010-01-21T19:57:08.856+00:00Battery Park & Friends<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1iugJxiryI/AAAAAAAAANw/Im_YW9U7xGo/s1600-h/P1010971.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 193px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1iugJxiryI/AAAAAAAAANw/Im_YW9U7xGo/s320/P1010971.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429281218197892898" /></a> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">Holiday Inn filter coffee is tasteless, but the bed is soft.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They give out polystyrene to save on the washing up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We take a stroll downtown and breakfast at a Dunkin Donuts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>That’s two fast food joints down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We pass ground zero and I’m surprised at how small the area is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Everyone says that apparently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The flame that never goes out is a fitting memorial; though I wonder how much gas it takes to run.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Battery Park is beautiful and we watch an old man feed squirrels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Does it everyday he says as they effectively mug him, dashing for his bag when he strays more than a foot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We meet some kids collecting for their baseball team.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They give us Skittles for dollars, and the cynic in me says they’re stolen, but it doesn’t matter.</span></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1ivXpuNFTI/AAAAAAAAAOA/jKkg9wnrJ9o/s1600-h/P1010976.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1ivXpuNFTI/AAAAAAAAAOA/jKkg9wnrJ9o/s320/P1010976.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429282171666634034" /></a><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">We board the Staten Island Ferry with the workers, and watch the coastline expand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Lady Liberty waves and winks as we pass and I catch her pose on my camera.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A delightful couple take our picture and we take theirs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I spend the rest of the crossing trying to catch seagulls with a photographic net.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><!--StartFragment--> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">We wander the island uphill and enjoy the view of Manhattan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Back in Battery Park we hit the first restaurant we see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s quiet and has a great view of the Statue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We trade ideas for logos, and our waiter gives us a free glass of wine at the end, we tip heavily.</span></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1iwC6ZPWmI/AAAAAAAAAOI/T-KHy_9GhkI/s1600-h/P1020009.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1iwC6ZPWmI/AAAAAAAAAOI/T-KHy_9GhkI/s320/P1020009.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429282914876480098" /></a> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">I impulsively buy business cards on Broadway to advertise this blog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We visit Wall Street, check out Washington’s declaration, browse a pet shop then head back to Lafayette.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We change and walk all the way to Times Square.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1ixB9yKYMI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/3tzoIaBAvjw/s1600-h/P1020157.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1ixB9yKYMI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/3tzoIaBAvjw/s320/P1020157.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429283998118076610" /></a><br />The walk is fantastic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Up Lafayette, past Public Theatre, Union Square, Flatiron, Empire State, and see the Chrysler stretching out to the right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Times Square makes Piccadilly Circus a poor mans neon valley, even the NYPD is all singing and dancing.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><!--StartFragment--> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">We ride the ‘N’ subway home and feel like locals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> <p></p> <!--EndFragment-->John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-13387008835656404602010-01-13T19:03:00.000+00:002010-01-21T19:20:07.119+00:00Traveling to New York City<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1inyvomoCI/AAAAAAAAANo/_tGbybTF3R8/s1600-h/IMG_0295.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1inyvomoCI/AAAAAAAAANo/_tGbybTF3R8/s320/IMG_0295.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429273841017200674" /></a><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">Black cab to Heathrow terminal 3, sixty quid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Check in three bags and the attendant doesn’t blink an eye that we’re over our economy passenger allowance of one per person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We’re there at 6.45 and the flight isn’t until 12.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We find the showiest place in the terminal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Down a bacon bun shaped like a burger and a glass full of fruit salad.</span></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1imqVKLGSI/AAAAAAAAANg/Jc1Z-DhUL_8/s1600-h/IMG_0296.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/S1imqVKLGSI/AAAAAAAAANg/Jc1Z-DhUL_8/s320/IMG_0296.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429272596959664418" /></a> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">The plane sits still for an hour and a half.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Outside it’s snowing animal shapes whilst a man sprays a suspect yellow heating liquid over the wings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The ice thaws and the cabin crew make the safety demonstration the best ticket in town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I now know how to tie a lifejacket and inflate an emergency escape route. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">I watch </span><span><i>The Time Travelers Wife</i></span><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB"> on the plane, a disappointing film of an enjoyable novel and catch only half of </span><span><i>It Might Get Loud</i></span><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s great to see Jimmy Page still rock out, Jack White’s epileptic guitar beatings and I now respect The Edge.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">When we land customs keep us penned in for two and a half hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I enter the US an exhausted man, but the officer said I look like DiCaprio. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:78.0pt"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB">‘Lafayette, Downtown Manhattan’ and we’re moving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I suspect the driver’s taking us somewhere else for ten minutes before I see my first Manhattan sign post.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I’m a suspicious person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Thankfully he takes the bridge from Brooklyn, and my first sight of the Big Apple is a Christmas tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s like those competitive suburban streets where the wives try to out do each other with Xmas lights, except Christmas is over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s a city made out of playing cards with pinpricks for the light. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:78.0pt"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB">My first taste of New York cuisine is a Burger King. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-14271705660583525472009-12-22T07:42:00.002+00:002009-12-22T17:10:31.189+00:00Hand & Star<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/SzD83yXLWVI/AAAAAAAAANY/2MIlgJFbzO4/s1600-h/mark.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 196px; height: 233px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/SzD83yXLWVI/AAAAAAAAANY/2MIlgJFbzO4/s320/mark.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418108387068696914" border="0" /></a><br />Working hard these last few days before Christmas? Need to take the edge off a little? Then look no further. Pay a visit to <a href="http://www.handandstar.co.uk/">‘Hand & Star’</a> for all your literary needs! In its own words:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Hand + Star offers intelligent, fresh perspectives, open to the interplay between text, technology and popular culture. Hand + Star combines the speed and energy of blogging with the authority of the traditional literary journal, and is committed to seeking out new, independent and lesser-known voices in poetry and fiction.</span><br /><br />Go on, seek some literary juices this holiday season, and whilst you're there check out my reviews on <a href="http://www.handandstar.co.uk/?p=108">Abi Curtis’s <span style="font-style: italic;">Unexpected Weather</span></a>, and <a href="http://www.handandstar.co.uk/?p=112">Ryan Kamstra’s <span style="font-style: italic;">Late Capitalist Sublime.</span></a>John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-91390594760006763552009-12-14T17:49:00.006+00:002009-12-17T11:45:20.986+00:00Status Games<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/SyZ8D4Wq7tI/AAAAAAAAANA/qtxMZ8EXi6s/s1600-h/P1010744.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/SyZ8D4Wq7tI/AAAAAAAAANA/qtxMZ8EXi6s/s320/P1010744.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415152008068525778" border="0" /></a><br />Following the Keith Johnson ‘Impro’ tradition, I’ve been playing some ‘status’ games recently. I can’t help but inject these little natural techniques into the workplace to gage reactions.<span style=""> </span>Most are pretty normal day to day things that you probably do all the time, but when you’re aware of the way you’re behaving then you realise you can affect it.<span style=""> </span>Like holding your head still when you speak.<span style=""> </span>In certain situations like meetings this seems to make you appear more authoritative, where as jittery head movements come across as ‘the fool.’<span style=""> </span>Give it a try and see what reaction you get.<p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">For Johnson, status games are a way to make improvisation amongst actors seem more realistic. His methods in ‘Impro’ encourage us to look at the way we react to certain situations and individuals in real life and use this to make acting on stage far more natural.<span style=""> </span>If an actor knows his status in relation to the other characters upon entering a scene, then that scene is easier to improvise.<span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">This makes sense really, using the office example again; we always play the inferior role to bosses, or those with director in their title.<span style=""> </span>Shakespeare’s ‘All the world’s a stage’ quote rings a bell here, as I ask, are we naturally prone to status decisions, or are we acting a part based on our title?<span style=""> </span>Try looking at the way shop assistants are treated.<span style=""> </span>Lower status individuals will admire and ask for the assistant’s expertise, where as a higher status player might order them around like a servant.<span style=""> </span>And then there’s the other form of high status where the individual plays low in order to hide their status, and only reveals it if vital to succeed dominance – a sort of flattery of the assistant you know is below you.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Johnson states that when a high status player is wiped out, then everyone experiences as if they are moving up a step.<span style=""> </span>Wiping out could be as simple as talking about a culturally higher film watched than your fellow converser, thus confirming them as a lower status player. <span style=""> </span>In the office space, you might notice a raise in everyone’s status when someone’s idea is shot down in a business meeting. <span style=""> </span>Everyone becomes higher because they weren’t the ones shot down.<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span>In theatrical terms, the person who had the drop in status could be used to create sympathy in the audience, or to make them feel higher also.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Another trick in ‘Impro’ is to regularly modify status to keep up audience attention and the pace of a scene.<span style=""> </span>So an example here could be two people having an argument where each character keeps getting one over the other.<span style=""> </span>In office terms perhaps it’s something like:</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><b>Person A:</b> Have you had a chance to finish that report yet?<br /><b>Person B:</b> Not yet, I’ve been too busy. Did you take a look at those costs though?<br /><b>Person A:</b> I can’t look at the costs until I’ve seen the report.<br /><b>Person B:</b> But the costs will help inform the report. I need them first.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">There’s a wee bit of see-sawing that takes place next, but that can be used to comic effect, a sort of ‘he’s behind you,’ ‘oh no he’s not’ thing.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I’m only scratching the surface here, but if you’re interested in more, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Keith_Johnstone">Johnson</a> explains this a lot clearer than I.</span></p> <!--EndFragment-->John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-57575691026562380492009-12-07T19:47:00.008+00:002009-12-07T20:03:28.244+00:00Digital Priest<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/Sx1dnSbhSVI/AAAAAAAAAMw/kO3KMJLMRoY/s1600-h/USB+Bible-1231014421.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/Sx1dnSbhSVI/AAAAAAAAAMw/kO3KMJLMRoY/s320/USB+Bible-1231014421.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412585256712751442" /></a>Recently I found myself on the way to a murder mystery evening in Richmond. I was late, frantically folding A4 paper to fit under by black collar to form what was to be the crux of my outfit. Yes, I was the priest, the saint, the holy father, the dirty beast, and I was the one that did it, but on the way I realized I’d forgotten my bible. Emails flew around the company, ‘has anyone got a bible laying around? Client has had a crisis of faith….’ and still no word. Until, that was, I remembered how we were in the digital age. Lo and behold, I saw a light, I reached for my IPhone knocked up the app store and downloaded the Bible app in seconds. I was now the bionic priest, a 21st century preacher with a digital reader. I could punch up any psalm, genesis, exodus, old or new testament in seconds. It was a revelation.<br /><br />A while back I had this idea for the Catholic Church. It was an idea for a new business model, a way to cut costs by laying off staff. I figured, why not start a digital online confession booth? You’d get far more converts anonymously online than you would in church, and people could do it in the comfort of their own home. They could even set up online donations via paypal. ‘Absolve your sins – donate today’. In fact check out <a href="http://confessions.grouphug.us/">'Group Hug’</a> which is an non-religion affiliated confession website.<br /><br />If you’d like satire, EA have produced <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nRMiRFJzIKA">'Mass We Pray'</a> a sickeningly smug viral to secretly promote the video game interpretation of Dante’s Inferno.<br /><br />Three days after the murder mystery LOVE and HATE were still stained on my knuckles. A sign perhaps?John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-47188639720567009542009-12-06T13:39:00.006+00:002009-12-06T20:12:17.306+00:00Carry On Thought Criminals<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">It’s been a busy week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Long days and late nights punctuated by theatre.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Let’s have a recap, in fact lets do a montage, turn up the stereo, radio, cassette player or iTunes depending on the era you’re living in and prepare for short snappy reviews.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Let me start with last Saturday’s trip to Rich Mix over Brick Lane way to see <a href="http://www.hardgraft.co.uk/">Hardgraft's</a> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Poles Apart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></i>A clever Brecht-infused take on the immigration issue where two Brits tried their hand at finding jobs in Warsaw.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>What followed was a comical tale of their endeavors, nods to Polish culture, and with just a ball of string Hard Graft demonstrated that no matter where we’re from we can all be joined together.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/SxwI4l94NoI/AAAAAAAAAMY/jsgenGLUyJk/s1600-h/Jiggery-Pokery-USE_jpg_442x294_crop_q85.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/SxwI4l94NoI/AAAAAAAAAMY/jsgenGLUyJk/s320/Jiggery-Pokery-USE_jpg_442x294_crop_q85.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412210620549838466" /></a><br />Come Tuesday I was at the BAC to see Amanda Lawrence's Charles Hawtrey biopic <i><a href="http://www.bac.org.uk/whats-on/jiggery-pokery/">Jiggery Pokery.</a></i><span><i><a href="http://www.bac.org.uk/whats-on/jiggery-pokery/"> </a> </i></span></span>In fact ‘biopic’ doesn’t do justice to what Lawrence created.<span> </span>Playing a plethora of diverse roles, she explored Hawtrey’s life on and off stage, shedding light on the infamous alcoholic made famous by the <i>Carry On</i> films.<span> Lawrence</span>’s performance had more energy than an entire <i>X Factor</i> audience as she darted around the stage in one scene playing a young Hawtrey, his mother as well as various actors and agent<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Cambria, serif;">s.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Cambria, serif;">A truly fantastic play. </span></span></p><!--StartFragment--><!--EndFragment--> <!--StartFragment--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language: EN-USfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">The next day I found myself in a stormy Vauxhall at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern (RVT) for The Festive Happening featuring cabaret artists <a href="http://www.bourgeoisandmaurice.co.uk/">Bourgeois & Maurice</a>, Johnny Woo and Scottee who made the traditional Xmas Knit look more glamorous than a night out at </span><span class="Apple-style-span">The Birdcage</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">Laugh’s a plenty as they rip-roared through a Barack Obama mime of Beyonce’s </span><span class="Apple-style-span">Halo</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">, breast bursting performance poetry, and B&M’s 21</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">st</span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> century dilemma </span><span class="Apple-style-span">Don’t Google Me Mother.</span></i><div><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"></span></i><br /><div><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/SxwJIugCdwI/AAAAAAAAAMg/-sf_-zmPuZw/s1600-h/The-Book_jpg_442x294_crop_q85.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/SxwJIugCdwI/AAAAAAAAAMg/-sf_-zmPuZw/s320/The-Book_jpg_442x294_crop_q85.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412210897718507266" /></a><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">I polished off the week with a preview showing of <a href="http://www.blindsummit.com/">Blind Summit's</a> version of the classic Orwell novel <i>1984</i>. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">If you’re expecting the serious intelligent tension of the book then think again.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">Blind Summit’s take turned what’s become a popular critique of society on its head.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">Borrowing the Brechtian style of </span><span class="Apple-style-span">The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> Blind Summit began the show with a squad of thought police on the way to the BAC to perform the story of Winston and Julia, the thought criminals.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">Sets were words on paper cards and </span><span class="Apple-style-span">The Theory and Practice of Oligarchical Collectivism </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">was creatively performed as a complete puppet show with paper words and pictures.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">It begs the thought, if only all politics could be taught in this way?</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> <p></p> <!--EndFragment--> </i><br /></div></div>John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-17971046044150874592009-11-30T19:37:00.004+00:002009-11-30T20:06:32.085+00:00Notes on Spare Time<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/SxQknSaTWhI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/uNSC3YauGDg/s1600/P1010719.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/SxQknSaTWhI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/uNSC3YauGDg/s320/P1010719.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409989309754464786" /></a> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Spare time is clumsy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s a large cumbersome cat too large for its flap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s a lowly status court jester laughed at by the hangman and the villains of the stocks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The children blow raspberries at it and throw playdough stones until it falls to the ground like a bad dream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Then they go to work, tying it down like an army of pixies, prodding it with tiny sticks and marking notes on bark with a flat rock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They consider the angles, lift the eyelids, pluck the hairs, shave a small square clear behind the ear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They wear it like fur, pick at its nails and slice off sharp small splinters to fit the tips of their spears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They communicate and laugh at its gaudy expression.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They wonder where it came from, what it wants, why did it disturb them?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">One by one they climb onto it’s chest to peer into its large sun-like eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Watching the marble swirl, they ooh and aah, make faces at each other and draw lead sketches like pupils.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They form signs, hold up giant leaves with painted diagrams and symbols.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They listen to it breathe, stand by the nostrils and let the wind make them go all silly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They wake earlier each day to spend more time with it in light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They sit silent as it reasons, as it wows them with stories, as it teaches them like faculty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They become disciples, they begin to worship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They erect tiny structures from their tiny sticks and hold court with its wishes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They like it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They respect it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They love it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They free it.</span></p> <!--EndFragment-->John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-26745387826408653002009-11-20T07:34:00.005+00:002009-11-22T14:01:41.269+00:00The Decemberists @ The Coronet 19/11/09<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/Swk-LN5MoAI/AAAAAAAAAMI/QqWqnSVwah8/s1600/4118062237_6c84523a2a.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/Swk-LN5MoAI/AAAAAAAAAMI/QqWqnSVwah8/s320/4118062237_6c84523a2a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406921190064037890" /></a> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--StartFragment--> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><!--StartFragment--> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Standing in the lower part of their own portrait The Decemberists launched into the type of music that gives many critics' heart flutters; the dreaded prog-rock-folk-metal concept hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">The Hazards of Love</i> played in full, with all the charming quirks of shouts and children chants that give Pink Floyds’ <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">The Wall</i> a run for its money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This is something the Decemberists have been building up to throughout their entire career with<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> p</span>rog first rearing it’s time sapping head on their debut <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Castaways and Cutouts, </i>continuing right through the back catalogue to the 20 minute EP <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">The Tain</i> based on the Irish folk tale <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Tain Bo Cuailnge.</i> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The spotlights captured their silhouettes on the ceilings as they softly spun through the first part of the record, accompanied by Becky Stark as the beautiful Margret during <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Won’t Want for Love</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Isn’t it a Lovely Night, </i>and<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"> <span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">o</span></span></i>ccasionally ramping it up a gear with the entrance of on-stage baddies, the Queen (stunningly played by Shara Worden) and the Rake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>Seeing the opera unfold on stage expanded it far more than a single record listen, and brought it to life far beyond expectations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Full of babies, infanticide and woodland shipwrecks, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">The Hazards of Love </i>(heralded by the broadsheet lot as the weaker part of the set) was, in my view one of the most exciting performances of a pop-rock group I’ve seen in some time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And with the treat of a second set giving fans even more bang for their buck it’s sad to see the rock-opera format still blasted by peers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>In the age of the download too, it’s impressive to see the full record selling almost 20k copies in its first week alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Now that’s encouraging considering most music critics are already predicting the death of the album.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Having ended the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Hazards of Love</i> Meloy introduced the group after what was possibly the longest first number ever at a gig, and come part two the fans still wanted more of their prog brilliance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A medley of hits followed with the classic in-the-round audience participation during <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Billy Liar </i>and radio fave <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Sixteen Military Wives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></i>But the real treat was saved till last with the surprise performance of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">The Mariner’s Revenge Song </i>which was teased throughout the entire second set with an inflatable whale dancing over the heads of an enthused crowd who all jumped at the chance to wail and moan as London was finally swallowed ‘through the jaws of an angry whale.’</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> <p></p> <!--EndFragment--> <p></p> <!--EndFragment-->John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692208973047654018.post-48121438282812689102009-11-16T22:25:00.005+00:002009-11-22T13:47:58.374+00:00Catriona Irving @ Pure Groove<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/SwL0Qt5NRUI/AAAAAAAAALw/yVSmlb7_Neg/s1600/IMG_0159.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 272px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E6s6BHhYK1A/SwL0Qt5NRUI/AAAAAAAAALw/yVSmlb7_Neg/s320/IMG_0159.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405151070832641346" /></a><br />We escaped the digital farm favoring something organic with cheese at lunch.<span style=""> </span>Had to grapple through the pigs mind, and then there where the cows to deal with, but all in all it was an everyday city scenario.<span style=""> </span>Pigeons flanked the workers and coordinated lunch crumb strikes named operation peg-leg and the sun came out like a rare breed dog, waggling its tail to show everyone how friendly it was.<span style=""> We pulled ourselves up on the cliff edge of </span><span><i>Pure Groove</i></span><span style=""> and heaved our way through the glass doors.<span style=""> </span></span><div><br /></div><div><span style=""><span style=""></span>Ale.<span style=""> Three</span> barrels of the stuff tempting me like a drunkard on the Sabbath day. All I could do was order tea.<span style=""> </span>Our journey’s reward was in sight however, when Catriona Irving, tight clad in nylon, plimsoll-footed her way onto the shop-floor stage.<span style=""> </span></span></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><span style=""><span style=""></span><i>Pure Groove</i>, the music mountaintop of Farringdon has seen more changes in the last year than Prince Charles has made plans for Snowdon, and today it is better for it.<span style=""> </span>Pushing aside the top 100 display in favour of a bar room set, it’s quickly becoming a cool hangout with its penchant at getting top new talent for lunchtime gigs so local workers can escape ‘the boss’ for thirty minutes.<span style=""> </span>Catriona Irving’s set however short lingered like a sweet Satsuma and taught us all to slow down for the afternoon. <span style=""> </span>With her clumsy guitar and fragile voice, it was one of those quiet moments where we remember that music wasn’t always an industry but once a chanting commune of cathartic expression. <span style=""> </span>Irving’s songs were delicate and soft with the low rhythm of <span style="font-style: italic;">Sitting on the Shelf</span> and the charming love note <span style="font-style: italic;">Untitled</span> which is enhanced with subtle cello in the recorded version.<span style=""> </span>Check out her EP <a href="http://neednowatershop.bigcartel.com/product/catriona-irving-sitting-on-the-shelf-without-shelly-ep-needno006">here</a>.</span> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">My friend says 'we live in an age of the niche' – anything and everything is on offer no matter what you’re into.<span style=""> </span>And with musicians like Catriona Irving carving her own following with the ‘arts and craft’ label <i style="">Need No Water</i> he’s right.<span style=""> </span>This certainly is DIY territory that feels far more exciting to play with than the big boys of pop.<span style=""> </span>Give me handmade vinyl packages and pin badges any day over logo’ed t-shirts and plastic jewel cases.</p></div>John Challishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123809142747821228noreply@blogger.com2