Learning to #dance for Lannigan’s Ball – #Dance House #Dublin #KnowingtheDance

“I stepped out…”

TwineExcited to be heading down to the Dublin for a residential residency at Dance House supported by Dance Ireland from Tuesday-Friday.

The plan of campaign is for Paula Guzzanti (dance artist) and musician Martin Devek and myself to work further on the ‘Knowing the Dance’ performance which has it’s opening performance at Down Arts Centre on the 9 September.

We’ve had some very useful feedback from a work-in-progress performance we had earlier in the summer, and are hoping that we will be able to trial the next stage via the New Movements platform later this week.

It’s wonderful to have this dedicated time and space, with many thanks to Dance Ireland for the support.

‘Knowing the Dance’ is supported by the Arts Council of Northern Ireland through their ACES programme, and Down Arts Centre, Downpatrick.

 

 

 

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All the fun of the #flarf – #lettersfromlady

WP_20150930_08_49_00_ProAnyone in New York on the 1st of June?

You’ll want to know that the Flarf Anthology release party is taking place at Le Poisson Rouge at 7pm – details HERE.

To be honest the concept of Flarf is new to me.

However, the other side of my non-creative writing practice is in the world of information provision, communications, marketing – with over twenty years of online communication/information sharing, and, in the last eight or nine years, this has been heavily based on social media.

And, unbeknownst to me and with little excitement from anybody who has come in contact with it, I have been writing the odd piece of flarf (if I am understanding the whole thing correctly).

I think the lack of excitement from others has had more to do with the fact that in the early years I was unusual among my poetry writing peers on being online for the amount of time that I was and the bizarre cadences of internet/social media based communication were in my world for hours every day. Spam, when spam filters were not as powerful as they are now, was particularly wonderful in the rhythmic patterning of the language.

But if you weren’t on the receiving end of the torrent of offers of, what I’ll call here, potent-making support services that I was getting day and daily, the context would not have been there.

I had come across Flarf a couple of months ago when creating a piece for submission using found social media sound-bites, for want of a better word. It was interesting to see how it appears to have developed in its c. two decades of existence from sending up the mad world of the online (often marketers, politicians and those in the public eye), to a more meaningful engagement with the language, the concerns and the format of day to day online interaction.

I think this important.

The piece I created didn’t cut the mustard (is that even a thing) and I went back this morning to see whether there is a journal or online version that I could resubmit. I think it’s a good piece but I’m not sure whether there are protocal, copyright etc issues for it and people more used to that kind of content would be good to confer with.

In any case, the google-search trail appeared to go cold after the late noughties and I was sad..until I discovered that the anthology is coming out on Tuesday night. How utterly divine is that.

I may be wrong, but it looks to me having had a quick hashtag search of #Flarf,  that the early days of the preoccupation  (I think there is a fun-factor in this that hasn’t been about a big movement, more a pushing of the boundaries to include where the majority of words are happening these days) were when the Bush regime was in full swing. Then there was a lull, and now we have the wonder of communication – it’s communication Jim, but not as we know it – that is the Trump regime. I think we may all need Flarf to keep us sane.

Good to find this today – and every good wish to Gary Sullivan and all those who have been involved on the launch.

Minotaurs, Writing advice from Mervyn & the GoodCop/BadCop routine – #editing #lettersfromladyn

The Minotaur was shut up in the labyrinth, a vast area with many corridors and passages, in which anyone who entered got lost, because it was impossible to find the exit. (Greek Mythology, Marilena Carabatea)

Sometimes editing can feel like that, I think. The minotaur (not the Greek myth) that moves through the work in ‘Night Divers’ is a conversation with a creation/a riff of Mervyn Sweet, a friend of mine whom I had met through the QUB Creative Writing Masters.

His minotaur, as I experienced it, represented the beauty, the strength, the contrary straight-to-blunt-talking worth of spending time with creatures who have been designated to dark places who appear in this bad light, bad eyesight also a factor, to throw shadows of monster heads in vast hotel corridors and then on closer inspection you realise you recognise that face…

His minotaur (released from the labyrinth) had a tendency to turn up unexpectedly – maybe will again, always delighting on being in daylight and asking me a question, which I have now come back to explore much more thoroughly, about the quality of conversation that can be had in the deeper layers of the realm of the, for want of a better word, beast.

That meeting point of truth and beauty that is experienced as relief – release even – though it might not be what people are hoping you are going to say and, maybe, lacking in the nice poetic arts. This is the kind of editing that can capture a person for a long time, wandering with only a thin line for company, not with murder in mind, just an exercise in courage.

Sunday morning sermons with Mervyn

This is what a friend of mine called our regular meet-ups when we had the time for it after the QUB Creative Writing MA ended. We met, shared work – I expect I did a lot of the talking. I loved Mervyn’s work, still do – I run quite a few of his riffs in my head often. And a good share of his, for want of a better word, pre-occupations – not just the minotaur – got into me. There wasn’t any sermonising.

It’s just that what Mervyn said generally met my ears as solid good sense and I always came away feeling the world was back on its right axis after meeting him in the way I think a lot of writers feel when they meet up with kindred spirits and have the writing chat. It was a kind of sustenance through the non-writing week, and I miss it very much.  Some of the conversations, not so much altered, as made me much clearer about my own writing preoccupations.

More general writing things I often remind myself of and tend to attribute to ‘a friend’ when I repeat them are, as follows:

(1) Even if a bit of writing doesn’t work out, you don’t know what gateway it might be to something else. No writing is wasted (but, just to be clear, it mightn’t be going anywhere either).

(2) Editing is as exciting as the first write – because in the process of editing you tend to actually find out what you are writing about.

(3) Atrocious things are no subject for ‘good poetry’ (ie who wants to be saying ‘wow what a perfect sestina’ when they are reading about the depths of human – or other – suffering – write the perfect sestina if you can/must but don’t expect me (ie Olive) to be congratulating you on your craft on the occasion.)

(4) My personal favourite – more life commentary than advice which came from my first introduction, as it were, to the man himself and contibuted in spades to my liking him a lot –

It’s doing it, getting out into the deep water and staying there
Right up to where the sharks tear your b*&^cks off
And what’s worse, you have to thank them for doing so.
“*

(* Edited – Very sad not to be able to ask permission to use this – but hoping it’s okay).

The Good Cop, Bad Cop Routine

“Usually two different cops do that”

Or on being Theseus and the Minotaur at the same time when approaching your writing…

Or otherwise, I’m thinking of adding a category for film clips that run in my head as a response to writing questions (that are also for the most part in my head – hence this blog).

A useful blog by author Jan Carson on editing (find HERE) reminded me of how much I love the ‘Bad Cop, Good Cop’ scene in Steve Martin’s ‘Pink Panther’ – I am laughing still and what I’m laughing about is that this is sort of how it is in my world when it comes to getting to the bottom of who’s at fault for what’s not working.

The Clock Repairer’s Companion (Thirty Tristichs): #KnowingtheDance #NaPoWriMo

6tag-3088414843-1483269340422047431_3088414843

These thirty three-line pieces are creative responses to my consideration of the moving parts of poetry composition – and are part of the ‘Knowing the Dance’ project.

 

 

 

The Clock Repairer’s Companion

Tristich 1-10

Tristich 11-20

Tristich 21-30 (sequence)

 

Notes and Acknowledgements

  • ‘The Clock Repairer’s Companion: Thirty Tristichs’ is series of three-line pieces written daily, exclusively for National (Global) Poetry Writing Month (#NaPoWriMo), to be shared via instagram @pearldiver32
  • They are responses to my consideration of the moving elements of poetry in general, and my own poetry in particular,  which is part of the wider ‘Knowing the Dance’ project, supported by Arts Council NI’s ACES programme. Reading material is included with each ten day installment.
  • I have a fascination with tristichs since meeting the form in the poetry of Yannis Ritsos – and am still in realm of Lorine Niedecker’s ‘condensery’.
  • Again many thanks to Emma Whitehead for the use of the ‘Time Bug’ image.
  • ‘Letters from Black Hawk Delta’ Thirty Tristichs for NaPoWriMo 2016 can be found HERE.

About NaPoWriMo

April is (Global/)National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) and the idea is to write a poem a day for the month. You can find some great prompts at the official site, and poetry support organisations like the Poetry School

OliveBroderick@2017

The Clock Repairer’s Companion (No 21-30): #KnowingtheDance #NaPoWriMo

6tag-3088414843-1483269340422047431_3088414843Nos 21 to 30: the third (and final) installment of three-line pieces which I have been sharing each day this April on Instagram – @pearldiver32 – as part of NaPoWriMo.

The work is a creative response to my consideration of the moving parts of poetry composition – and it is part of the ‘Knowing the Dance’ project. The final 10 tristichs form a sequence which was called ‘The Body is all Water’ when shared on instagram.

 

The Clock Repairer’s Companion

Now the clock tells the time right,
inseperable as water, light and shade,
all one body – moving, turning.

The body is all water and returning
to its source: its fluid nature all surge and
gathering together as it covers old ground.

Fear is real – the cell wall, the membrane,
the karstifying rock, a place of waiting,
of permeation – it has its own time.

Inseparable, those times that we don’t talk about,
forty days and nights of rainfall, the turlough
and freshwater lake flow into each other.

Far from gone forever, this place of surface stone
is a conjuring trick, a feat of dry spells,
sunlight and vapour mirages that rise, evaporate.

Neither you nor I, and far from lost for ever, this water
flows, filling in and filling out, though I’ve needed
to contain you in a limestone-walled oubliette.

Fear is mostly mind – and badly scripted voice-over
that speaks in a whisper to a face behind a mirror, who,
if not pixelated, is certainly dried out and all 2D.

The body is all water – and sometimes walking away
from its surge, its eddy, retreat – the sound
makes its way through the membrane of the ear.

Dance with me. The clock in its waterproof case
will beat, will beat. Let it be the meeting point
between the river here and the river beneath.

The shade is you. The Lough is all sunlit and still.
Anchored boats with phantom people. The call
to water, of the woodland beyond, goes unanswered.

‘Fear of the body…Fear of words…Sometimes the two are inseparable’ (‘The Body has its Reasons’, pg 123) is the epigram for this and its reflection in the water – shimmering slightly, not a perfect mirror.

The shade is you. The Lough is all sunlit and still.
Anchored boats with phantom people. Call
of water, of woodland birds, go unanswered.

Dance with me. The clock in its waterproof case
will beat, will beat. Let it be the meeting point
between the river here and the river beneath.

The body is all water – and walking away
from its surge, its eddy, retreat. But the sound
makes its way through the membrane of the ear.

Fear is mostly mind – and badly scripted voice-over
that speaks in a whisper to a face behind a mirror, who,
if not pixelated, is dessicated and all 2D.

Neither you nor I, and far from lost for ever, this water
flows, filling in and filling out, though I’ve needed
to contain you in a limestone-walled oubliette.

Far from gone forever, this place of surface stone
is a conjuring trick, a feat of dry spells,
sunlight and vapour mirages that rise, evaporate.

Inseparable, the times that we don’t talk about,
forty days and nights of rainfall, the turlough
and freshwater lake flow into each other.

The fear is real – the cell wall, the membrane,
the karstifying rock, a place of waiting,
of permeation – it has its own time.

The body is all water and returning
to its source: its fluid nature all surge
and holding together as it covers old ground.

Now the clock tells the time right,
inseperable as water, light and shade,
all one body – moving, turning.

 


A note about what I have been reading

This three-lines-a-day discipline for April has been away of me working through the learning elements of the ‘Knowing the Dance’ project – practice sketches is at were.  The ten-tristich sequence above is a response to ‘The Body has its Reasons’ and my rereading of it.  These last days of April,  I have also acquired the ‘Lines of Thought’ catalogue which accompanies the British Museum touring exhibition that has been on at the Ulster Museum, and ‘The Life of Lines‘ by Tim Ingold..and so the reading continues…in a linear fashion…

About NaPoWriMo

April is (Inter)National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) and the idea is to write a poem a day for the month. You can find some great prompts at the official site, and poetry support organisations like the Poetry School

Image: from Time Bug series (10cm x 10cm) by Emma Whitehead

Poems on a Sunday Afteroon feat. Lynda E Tavakoli – #DownArtsCentre #Downpatrick

It’s been a month of focus on things poetic, in particular, and literary in all of its genres as well. So it’s really good to be rounding up the month with Down Arts Centre & Words for Castle Ward’s very popular Poems on a Sunday afternoon (30 April, 2.30-4.30pm) event.

As always we are inviting new writers, or writers with new material, or you who may have a poem, story, song of your own, or a favourite, to share. It’s a friendly space to read – and we love to hear new voices, and welcome back those who are familiar. By the way, if you just want to come and enjoy the afternoon – you are also most welcome!

Featured Reading: Lynda E Tavakoli

LyndaETavakoliPoSAUnderaColdwhiteMoonDelighted this time to present Lynda E. Tavakoli in the featured spot – and her reading will centre on her recently launched debut collection of short stories. We have been fortunate to have Lynda as a contributor to PoSA’s shared space over the years – as well as members of the wonderful Lisburn creative writing group she facilitates.  It seemed high time to to hear the breath of her work – she is an award winning author and has published two novels (‘Attachement’ and ‘Of Broken Things’), Her poetry and prose have been broadcast on both BBC Radio Ulster and RTE Sunday Miscellany.

Her literary successes include poetry and short story prizes at Listowel, the Mencap short story competition and the Mail on Sunday novel competition. Lynda’s poems have been included in a variety of publications including Templar Poets’ Anthology Skein, Abridged (Absence/Magnolia/Silence/Primal/Mara), The Incubator Journal, Panning for Poems, Circle and Square, North West Words, Four X Four (Poetry NI), The Honest Ulsterman, A New Ulster and Corncrake magazine. She has been selected as The Irish Times Hennessy poet of the month for her poems about dementia, a recurring theme in much of her poetry. Having recently returned from Bahrain where her poems were featured in the local press, she is presently working towards her first collection revolving around her early childhood in 1960’s Northern Ireland. Lynda has facilitated prose recitals commemorating the anniversary of the sinking of The Titanic and edited the prose and poetry anthology ‘Linen’ for the Irish Linen Museum.

The reading on Sunday will celebrate the publication of ‘Under a Cold White Moon’ her first collection of short stories – inspiring, often dark, and soulfully told; and her poetry.

About Poems on a Sunday Afternoon

This is a c. quarterly event that has been running for over 5 years and is a showcase of, and platform for, work by those writing locally, and beyond. It is an initative of Down Arts Centre and, currently, Words for Castle Ward. The next session is on next Sunday, 30 April, 2.30-4.30pm at Down Arts Centre, Downpatrick. The event is free to attend and doesn’t need to be booked in advance.  Find out more about Poems on a Sunday Afternoon HERE.

The Clock Repairer’s Companion (No 11-20): #KnowingtheDance #NaPoWriMo

6tag-3088414843-1483269340422047431_3088414843Nos 11 to 20: the second installment of three line pieces (from fragment, to micro-poem to as much as I can fit and still call it, fluidly, three lines) which I have been sharing each day this April on Instagram – @pearldiver32 – as part of NaPoWriMo.

The work is a creative response to my consideration of the moving parts of poetic composition – and it is part of the ‘Knowing the Dance’ project.

 

20. Found Poem*

Fear of the body…

Fear of words…

Sometimes they are inseparable.

From ‘The Body has its Reasons’ page 123

 

19. Still dancing after all

this time, our lines close to connecting, but still a holdback –

the romance of the Latin Mass left in our fingers –

so there’s room to hold both each other and our preferred other as mystery.

 

18. Playing Checkers with Little Nell

I move. You move. They watch. Next move, my move – I move. Now you. You muse

watch me, watch them, then make your move. I move, then you – they watch.

We choose our moves – then move. They watch.

 

17. Aisling

Before the first cross-quarter day of that year, two little boys appeared

in my deep-winter drift, signalling me, with their spirit eyes, to cross-over

to join with gradual, waxing light – to rise as it rises, but not to fight.

 

16. Breathwork (b)

Difficult conditions, living seeds prepare to shoot through topsoil – a metaphor

she scores a dance from the breath pattern – all rise and rush, barely enough stop to refuel –

shapes of a body attacked by panic, or a cartoon charachter held in the air by ratata gunfire.

for Paula Guzzanti

 

15. Shoots (mark-making exercise)

The frank stare of the double-o. She looks at it, then takes the charcoal – breathes out

through its medium an upward moving vortex – swiftly overlaying another in red chalk.

Finished, she holds her body, without prejudice, where noun and verb meet in their sense of propulsion.

for Sarah Warsop

 

14. Where they hide their anger

the ones who never, mark that, ever feel even a frisson of that emotion,

is, in temporal terms, the minutest move on the face of a clock, but the oubliette opens

in the breath-crack between side-by-side words that begin and end again with hard letters.

 

13. Tonight, like housekeys in my handbag

I carry

The lines of your song.

Tonight I am safe, comforted.

 

12. What it is

It is the stick figures that run and leap as I flick the pages.

It is the rise and drive of dark lines marked on the paper.

It is the change in the speed of my breath, the ribcage follows: I sit.

 

11. Anxious scanning

Digital, my fingers on the keyboard typing.

My feet are on the floor tapping out a rhythm.

In between, I am – the doubt I feel is my own.

 


If you sit, just sit don’t wobble (zen saying)

After last week’s intense reading, this week I sat (not saying I didn’t wobble a bit) and reflected on what I had read and the wider ‘Knowing the Dance’ project. It was a strange, ranging journey – ending with the arrival of ‘The Dance Most of All’ by Jack Gilbert – which wasn’t entirely what I was looking for, and then again it might have been just the right opening to what is going to be a sequence for the next ten days. I know this is departing from the letter of the the NaPoWriMo project but I’m hoping it captures some of its spirit as this has arisen from the energy of working day-by-day during this April.  I also went back and reread chapters of ‘The Body has its Reasons’ which has been a part of my world since I was a teenager. I was very sad to find out recently that Therese Bertherat had passed away a few years as I would have loved to have actually been a participant in one of here classes.

About NaPoWriMo

April is (Inter)National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) and the idea is to write a poem a day for the month. You can find some great prompts at the official site, and poetry support organisations like the Poetry School

Image: from Time Bug series (10cm x 10cm) by Emma Whitehead