Still

Still started out in 2010 as an exhibition to mark Hornsey Town Hall’s 75th anniversary. This building opened in 1935 and is considered one of the foremost examples of architecture of it’s time and was the first major UK building to be constructed in the Modernist style. During it’s time it has hosted events as diverse as school prize-giving's, a location for films & TV and the band Queen’s first concert. It was closed as a civic centre in 1963, when Hornsey Borough Council was abolished & the London Borough of Haringey was created, leaving only part of the building in use as office space. When it  ceased to be of use to Haringey council, the local residents campaigned for it to be retained for the use of the community, and they set up a partnership board with the council officials, along with The Hornsey Town Hall Creative Trust (a corporate charity) to run & maintain the hall. Haringey's planning committee voted to allow this building to be converted into an  “arts hub”. Move forward to the exhibition in 2010, and the artist Roelof Bakker, who the previous year had been given unlimited access to explore this building, said…

“It is now 75 years later and the building still holds a place close to the heart of the local community. I’m celebrating the building’s past, present and future. The project is a personal exploration of the building’s interior spaces.”

Still, is a three stage  project, with the ideal of exploring via a variety of methods, how to breathe life back into vacated spaces. The first two stages, the creation of a photographic and video archive of a vacated municipal building not open to the public, & the exhibition inside the vacated space itself, giving the space a renewed public function were completed when the exhibition opened  in 2010. Leaving only the third stage - a collaborative literary art book combining photographs from the project with new short stories inspired by them, allowing the photographs to travel from the physical space.

This part of the project involved Roelof Bakker inviting a series of writers to select a photograph from the exhibition of Still and to use it as inspiration for a story.  The aim of this idea was to find fresh meaning from the image, transferring it away from the original physical setting and in the process breathing new life into them. Twenty six writers from around the world became involved in this project, each providing a short story, the writers were:

 Richard Beard, Andrew Blackman, S.J. Butler, Myriam Frey, S.L. Grey, Tania Hershman, James Higgerson, Justin Hill, Nicholas Hogg, Ava Homa, Aamer Hussein, Nina Killham, Deborah Klaassen, Sarah Ladipo Manyika, Claire Massey, Jan van Mersbergen, Barbara Manghami-Ruwende, James Miller, Mark Piggott, Mary Rechner, David Rose, Nicholas Royle, Preeta Samarasan, Jan Woolf, Evie Wyld, Xu Xi.

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What is amazing about this book is the diverse group of writers involved in the project, not just in style, genre etc., but geographically there are writers from countries such as Netherlands, USA, Zimbabwe, Canada, Hong Kong, Pakistan, Great Britain and Malaysia to name but a few. Sometimes you know something is going to be good from the moment it lands in your hands, it could be down to the way it’s packaged,  the way it looks, the image on the cover or the font (Museo) used that somehow fits in with the whole idea. Still is such a book, it oozes style, from the original idea to the end product, this book looks good, feels good, and that's just flipping through the pages, glancing at the photographs. This was a book that I carried about with me, dipping in and out whenever a moment arose and I fell in love with it. Whether it was Mark Piggott's character Edward  & his boozy midnight visit to the old town hall (Midnight Hollow), Andrew Blackman’s priest and his confrontation with more than his faith (Sanctuary), or Tania Hershman’s strange monologue by a female robot? (Switchgirls),  I just loved it.

The tales.

Midnight Hollow - Mark Piggott
Edward, now retired, after a few glasses too many returns to the old town hall where he worked. Finding reflection in his old work habits. The end is sad, shocking and yet somehow fitting.

My Wife the Hyena - Nina Killham                                                   An office worker describes his married life & love of his wife (the hyena). This is a weird tale, that just rings true.

Sanctuary - Andrew Blackman
A desperate man is chased into a church by the police, armed he holds a priest hostage. This is a tale as much about the priest’s faith as it is about the man seeking sanctuary.

Corridor - Evie Wyld
This is a tale of hiding from night-time horrors, about finding a safe neutral place (the corridor), and yet this is only a temporary patch..

The Staircase Treatment - Myriam Frey
Suffering from memory loss after the birth of her child, the narrator tries to recall words whilst using the staircase, the story then shifts forward & changes perspective.

Pa-dang - Jan van Mersbergen
I read this author’s book, Tomorrow Pamplona & loved it, this is his first English language tale (Pamplona was translated) and is the story of Anton’s visit home for his birthday. We rapidly come to realise that all is not well with Anton.

A Rose for Raha - Ava Homa
This is the story of two sisters, whose father is an unemployed refugee. There is a threat of prison if he doesn’t find the rent money, causing arguments between the parents.

The Blind Man - Nicholas Royle  
This is the tale of the narrator's obsession with buses and how as a child he stole the route blinds. There is a lovely dark twist to it’s end.

From the Archive - James Miller
This is a tale of how things can become misunderstood, when only partial knowledge exists. Set in the future, a writer attempts to interpret an image & gets it so wrong. This one leaves you pondering.

 Switchgirls - Tania Hershman
A sad and strange monologue told from the perspective of a female automaton, possibly the last of her kind. 

The Playwright Sits Next to Her Sister - Mary Rechner
This is another story of two sisters. One a drab & self effacing playwright and the other all glamour. The tale plays out against the backdrop of the playwright’s new theatre piece.

 The Tree at the Limit - Aamer Hussein
The narrator takes you on a tour of an art gallery, whilst reading extracts from the exhibitions catalogue, although it is slowly revealed that the narrators interest may be more than is first revealed.

Lift Under Inspection Do Not Touch - Richard Beard
It starts with the narrator talking about lifts & his experience with them, before shifting into territories I’m still not sure of.

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Odd Job - Preeta Samarasan
After completing their exams, two girls do volunteer work at the houses of their rich neighbours. This is a story of a dark secret and its exposure to light.

Noise -James Higgerson
This is a wonderful comment on the modern world. We listen to a man tell his therapist how the world about him is to loud in great detail.

A Job Worth Doing - S.J. Butler
We are back at the town hall, that is being closed down, and we follow the cleaner on her last shift, even though the building is being closed she will still clean it because.....

 Sere - David Rose
What starts as the narrator discussing shoes, turns into a tale of an elderly  man’s feeling for the world he now finds himself in.

Morayo - Sarah Ladipo Manyika  
A tale to freak out any booklover. A writer, now seen as just an old woman, is moving into a residential home, hoping all her books will shortly join her, but the social worker dealing with her case sees nothing of worth.

 Waiting - Justin Hill
“Entering or exiting through a doorway serves as an “event boundary” in the mind, which separates episodes of activity and files them away....”

Ten a Day - Jan Woolf
This is about a woman obsessed with how time works & how it could be changed by adopting a different system.

 Opportunity - Barbara Manghami-Ruwende
A tale about coping with life in modern day Zimbabwe and the difficulties encountered.

The Dressing Room Mirror - Claire Massey
The female narrator discusses her childhood dance obsession and her envy towards a classmate, this is another that heads off left of centre.

The Owl at the Gate - Nicholas Hogg
This is the tale of a young boy who is bullied by his cousin, Maria, & also not allowed to leave his house, he escapes one day straight into more trouble, but help is near at hand and from a strange source?

Still - S.L. Grey
A day at the funfair with the family, and yet…. This is another tale that takes you into that uncomfortable zone.

How to Make a Zombie - Deborah Klaassen
This is a tale of one girl’s disillusion with university life, then she meets a lecturer who seems to throw her a lifeline, and yet this tale ends in horror.

Winter Moon - Xu Xi
A tale of exile, long distant love and an obsession with America, sound tracked by Hoagy Carmichael.

A great diversion with this book is to try and guess, based on the photograph, which direction a tale will go. What is fascinating about this book is how something like, for example the picture next to this text, can become a tale of an old lady and her struggles. This is a wonderful work of art, that just happens to be a fantastic collection of tales worthy of a place in any home whether on the coffee table or on the bookshelf.

For more info on the writers or on Roelof Bakker  >>>>>>>

 

BERNARD SPENCER

***********************

COMPLETE POETRY:

Translations & Selected Prose.

Edited by  Peter Robinson

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At the time of his death in September 1963, Bernard Spencer had published three books Aegean Islands and Other Poems (1946), The King of Asine and Other Poems, a translation of the poetry of George Seferis (with Nanos Valaoritis & Lawrence Durrell) and With Luck Lasting (1963). He had also sent ten recently completed poems to Alan Ross at the London Magazine, which were published either just before or after his death, it was Ross who first collated Spencer’s work and published them in 1965 as Collected Poems. This volume contained  the 1946 and 1963 poems and “Poems from Vienna”  his last poems, it didn’t include any of his translated work, and did not search out any uncollected or unpublished work.

Charles Bernard Spencer was born into one of the branches of the Spencer-Churchill family in Madras, India (1909), the second son of Sir Charles Gordon Spencer, a high court judge. In 1911 he was sent to England to be brought up by relatives alongside his elder brother John & sister Cynthia. He attended a couple of schools before, in 1923, he followed his brother to the traditional family school of Marlborough College , where he was a contemporary of Anthony Blunt, and also where he met the more senior John Betjeman and Louis MacNeice, although at this period of his life his interest was more with the art club than the literary society. In 1928 he went to Corpus Christi College, Oxford,  where he formed friendships with Isaiah Berlin, Humphrey House, Arthur Calder-Marshall and Stephen Spender, the latter co-edited Oxford Poetry with Spencer in 1930, a position filled by Richard Goodman when Spencer edited it again in 1931. In the summer of 1932 he graduated with a second glass degree in greats. Also during this period he came across W. H. Auden, although he was not involved to any great degree with the poets who became known as the Auden Group.

A Hand. (pre 1940)

The human hand lying on my hand

(The wrist had a gilt bangle on)

Wore its print of personal lines

Took breath as lungs and leaves and

Tasted in the skin our sun.

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The living palm and near-to-bone:

Fine animal hairs where the light shone.

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The handed mole to its earth, the stoat to the dark

And this flesh to its nature nervously planned;

To dig love’s heart till everything is shown,

To hunt, to hold its mark

-- This loved hand.

 

The period after leaving university is marked by signposts, as the knowledge of his whereabouts are not clear, for example a letter sent to Rosamond Lehman  has survived in her archive at King’s College (Cambridge). In 1934 his father died, and in-between he helped Geoffrey Grigson edit New Verse, and in 1936 he married Norah Kathleen Gibbs. The Poet Bernard Gutteridge  opens a slight window into this period in his condolence letter to Spencer’s 2nd wife (1963).

Extract from Letter 

“Bernard, Dylan (Thomas) and Louis MacNeice were the first poets I ever knew; and of them Bernard was always the closest – especially in those two last gloomy years before the war when he was always one of the gay reliefs. I first met him in Geoffrey Grigson’s  house in Hampstead for dinner. Just the three of us and Norah. It must have been twenty seven years ago this autumn. He wore green corduroys, a red and white checked cotton shirt and a bowtie and a gay jacket and was, as he remained, one of the best-looking people I had ever met. I was entranced by them both and was with them once or twice every week from then on, I believe. Supper in Soho at Durands (a bombed hole opposite York Minster); drinks on the red plush and the marble tables at the Cafe Royal with Ernest Copplestone; parties at a flat off the Bayswater road which had dark reddish-purple cocoanut matting all over the floors; dancing in a pub on Haverstock hill; and then the war…….”

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Spencer’s own summing up of this  period is “a year at film making, then a living scratched up out of school mastering and advertising” this sentence covers working at several schools as a classics teacher, working as a copywriter for an advertising agency and co-writing the biography of a Victorian politician (1938).

In 1940 being unfit for military service (congenital heart condition), Spencer joined the newly formed British Council and travelled by train with his wife to Salonika in Greece, where he became a teacher at the Institute of English Studies, where he also acted as the librarian. Norah returned home to England for a holiday before the fall of France and seems to have been refused permission to return to Greece and would spend the war years working at the ministry of supply. On October 28th (1940) the Italians invaded  Greece and in that month air raids began on Salonika. The hotel in which the poet was staying was hit and his room was demolished, the institute was also damaged in several of the bombardments and subsequently closed.

 During World War II, Spencer continued working for the British Council with a posting to Egypt (Cairo), where he was joined by several other exiles from the war in Greece, (the likes of Lawrence Durrell, Robert Liddell - evacuated with- and also at this time he was to meet  Keith Douglas). It was here that with Lawrence Durrell, &  Robin Fedden  they set up the Personal Landscape magazine, which featured not only their own work but also  the work of poets such as Terence Tiller , G. S. Fraser & Keith Douglas. In 1942 Rommel had reached El Alemein & the British Fleet withdrew from Cairo & Spencer spent some time in Palestine before returning to Cairo, it was during this period (1944) that he collaborated with Nanos Valaoritis and Durrell on translating  George Seferis’ s  poetry (The King of Asine and other poems, 1948). In the early months of 1945 he was joined by his wife Nora, but by August they had returned to England due to ill health. The following year found Spencer out of Britain once again to take up a posting in Sicily  & then to southern Italy the following year, during the winter of that year Nora became ill with TB, and would die of heart failure in Rome (June 1947).

Part of Plenty.

*********************************************

When she carries food to the table and stoops down
--Doing this out of love--and lays soup with its good
Tickling smell, or fry winking from the fire
And I look up, perhaps from a book I am reading
Or other work: there is an importance of beauty
Which can't be accounted for by there and then,
And attacks me, but not separately from the welcome
Of the food, or the grace of her arms.

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When she puts a sheaf of tulips in a jug
And pours in water and presses to one side
The upright stems and leaves that you hear creak,
Or loosens them, or holds them up to show me,
So that I see the tangle of their necks and cups
With the curls of her hair, and the body they are held
Against, and the stalk of the small waist rising
And flowering in the shape of breasts;

***********************************************
Whether in the bringing of the flowers or of the food
She offers plenty, and is part of plenty,
And whether I see her stooping, or leaning with the flowers,
What she does is ages old, and she is not simply,
No, but lovely in that way.

 

By September Bernard Spencer was in Turin and the following year, (May 1948) he had returned to England, as he had developed TB himself, which involved a trip to Switzerland for surgery. By December he was back in Britain doing light duties for the British council, also at this time The King of Asine and other poems was published to rave reviews (fourteen) and congratulations from T.S. Eliot.

This pretty much characterized Spencer’s life as a delegate of the British Council. Spencer lived in various locales such as  Thessaloniki, Turin, Madrid, Ankara, Athens, Vienna and Cairo, although by 1949 it steadied slightly with his posting to Madrid and yet by 1955 he was in Athens, if only for a short spell as  Cyprus erupted after the deportation of  Archbishop Makarios (March 1956). Back in England, at the Council’s headquarters, then 1958, a temporary appointment in Ankara, Turkey and then a return to Madrid, where he would meet his second wife Anne Marjoribanks, in September 1961 they got married and in July left Spain for Vienna. On the 7th February 1963 they had a son, (Piers Bernard Spencer), the same year whilst on holiday in Italy Spencer suffered a health breakdown and they returned to Vienna. Although deliriously ill and with a high fever, for some unexplained reason he was allowed to leave the clinic where his  medical condition was being investigated. His body was found at 5am on the 11th of September 1963 beside the suburban railway lines, the state of his shoes suggested he had walked a considerable distance, and with head injuries suggesting that he’d been hit by a train, his widow wished to ask questions relating to his leaving the clinic, but the Council were not willing to risk straining relations with Austria. Various suggestions have arisen concerning his mental & physical state ranging from undiagnosed brain tumour, to an enlarged prostate causing ureic acid infecting the brain, although the autopsy ruled out alcohol. He was cremated in Vienna and his ashes were returned to England.

Sometimes you meet someone, who has been around you your whole life, and yet you had no knowledge of them. Sometimes you’ve circled around this person, you have been to the same parties, have had the same friends, almost at the same table, at those special occasions, weddings, christenings, all the big events and yet………

This is how I feel about Bernard Spencer, a poet I had not heard of until recently, or to be more accurate a poet whom, by his absence has now at this moment in time started to haunt me, has me puzzled, bemused and has raised my curiosity up to a factor before this I’d have thought not possible. How could I not know of his existence and yet know all who circled him? Just look at the names above, they contain some of my favourite writers, one of my favourite WWII poems “Vergissmeinnicht” by Keith Douglas shows knowledge of and was possibly inspired by Spencer’s “Death of an Airman” & “Letters”. My poetic trips aboard via the works of  Eugenio Montale, George Seferis, and Odysseus Elytis were aided by translations by this writer. Going back to my original metaphor of the known stranger, this book has allowed me to know Bernard (first name terms now), and has finally sat us at the same table at a mutual friends christening, and it turns out we share similar tastes, and have that same curiosity for the world circling us. 

This isn’t  just a collection of  Spencer’s Poetry, it also contains his translations of the above mentioned poets & a selection of his prose writing,  as such it opens up a window into this writers work, and in the process gives us an understanding of a poet that although almost forgotten was considered a central figure of the Cairo poets and a distinctive voice in 20th century English poetry. Lawrence Durrell compares him  to Edward Thomas.  Olivia Manning, said of him that:

“His poems are in the direct tradition of English poetry, and are marked by sincerity, exact observation, and a deep feeling for nature. They are patient, honest, individual, and always come out of the life he is living,”

           Delicate Grasses.

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Delicate grasses blowing in the wind,
grass out of cracks among tiered seats of stone
where a Greek theatre swarmed with audience,
till Time's door shut upon
the stir, the eloquence.

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A hawk waiting above the enormous plain,
lying upon the nothing of the air,
a hawk who turns at some sky-wave or lull
this way, and after there
as dial needles prowl.

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Cool water jetting from a drinking fountain
in crag-lands, miles from any peopled spot,
year upon year with its indifferent flow;
sound that is and is not;
the wet stone trodden low.

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There is no name for such strong liberation;
I drift their way; I need what their world lends;
then, chilled by one thought further still than those,
I swerve towards life and friends
before the trap-fangs close.

 

Bernard Spencer (Wiki)

Bloodaxe publishers

Sample - http://www.shearsman.com/archive/samples/2012/spencerSPL.pdf

New Verse - http://www.modernistmagazines.com/media/pdf/273.pdf

Nanos Valaoritis A Memoir - http://www.agendapoetry.co.uk/documents/Nanos-AMEMOIR_001.pdf

 

A Treasury of British Poetry - http://www.solearabiantree.net/namingofparts/pdf/williamslittletreasuryofbritishpoetry1951.pdf

 

George Seferis on Translation

Winning The City Redux ~Theodore Weesner.

This book starts with a note to the reader stating that:

“THE FOLLOWING ADOLESCENT SPORTS AND LOVE ENCOUNTER has been retrieved from a promise never to tell. What’s to say? time slipped by, some deaths occurred, perspective was gained. The impulse went from taking a secret to the grave to getting it down before it was to late'.

Storytellers have ever had it that to understand is to sympathise. Imagine a boy and his teacher in a relationship eclipsing (at least for the boy) the pull of school, friends, basketball, his father at home. Emotions that become magical and prepossessing for the boy. The lesson is that any occasion of intense adoration of the kind deserves any airing that might add insight to the never-ending puzzle of how we live and evolve.” Theodore Weesner.

**********************************

After this note we then meet the hero of the book, Dale Wheeler, a fourteen year old livewire, who knows what he wants & how to get it, he’s pumped & can talk the talk because he knows how to walk the walk. Dale is all cocksure confidence and braggadocio, a man-boy whose dreams seem to be coinciding with his day to day reality.

**************************

“This is it. Today is the day. The first practice of the year after school in the boy's gym. Time to show the speed, do the deed, take the lead! All these weeks and months Dale has been able to think of little else. Since last spring.

Since forever. Now it’s his turn to be the oldest, the biggest, the best. Tryouts. But he’s a returning starter and is sure as hell not trying out. He'll be leading the way, making them pay! His excitement is such that for days on end he has been telling himself to be cool. Time to be cool and not a fool. For playing it cool is the only tool...if you’re out to win the entire goddamn city.

Dale Wheeler is fourteen all the same, and whatever energy he may be bringing to his talking-the-talk temperature he doesn’t know how not to dream. He’s grown an inch and a half since the season ended last year and is growing still. In this instant he’s pushing up through five-nine. Sitting at his desk in school he can look at a forearm and see it growing larger, stronger, longer. Can pump up bicep-pears before the bathroom mirror at home. One on the left, one on the right! Pop, pop! Pow, pow! Hey, hey, get outta my way...my name is Dale Wheeler and I came to play! Besides confidence Dale can call up conviction in his mind and heart. Secret power leading the way, making his day! Call me cocky and I’ll make your fat ass pay!”

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Until the moment when everything that he has dreamt of is taken away, and it all comes crashing down. His dream of becoming a top basketball player and with his team mates compete for his city tournament, of being spotted by some scout & by his hard work and talent rise like some shooting star from the dire poverty of his existence, are all lost in a moment, lost in a deal that leaves him out of the team. At the moment it was all sliding into place, the ball was taken away by some rich ex-player who will sponsor the team if his sons play & although Dale can talk the talk & walk the walk -  money talks louder.

It is at this point that Dale, heart shattered and his mind a confusion of conflicting images, finds kindness in the shape of his favourite teacher.

This is the second book by Theodore Weesner, and although I preferred the first, I did enjoy this. The themes are similar, they share the same dreams, whether lived or broken, they both reflect a harshness that could be soul destroying were it not for that glimmer, that shot at redemption, that raises both the protagonist & the book above that darkened abyss into which life can sink.

Theodore Weesner’ born in Flint, Michigan, is aptly described as a “Writers’ Writer” by the larger literary community.  His short works have been published in the New Yorker, Esquire, Saturday Evening Post, Atlantic Monthly and Best American Short Stories.  His novels, including The True Detective, Winning the City and Harbor Light, have been published to great critical acclaim in the New York Times, The Washington Post, Harper’s, The Boston Globe, USA Today, The Chicago Tribune, Boston Magazine and The Los Angeles Times to name a few.

Theodore Weesner

www.BlueDotLiterary.com

For those interested;

B&N:  http://bit.ly/TU7MFi

Amazon: http://amzn.to/XTVj8O

Amazon uk

Fire On Her Tongue .

 An eBook Anthology of Contemporary

  Women's Poetry.

This project began as an idea shared between the two editors, Kelli Russell Agodon & Annette Spaulding-Convy, who after the purchase of a Nook and an I-Pad realised that poetry was being left behind in the eBook revolution. While technology was striving forward carrying with it, the novelists, memoirists and nonfiction writers, they felt that the poets were being left behind, and this left them with a question – could they do something about it?

So, in 2011 they set about contacting their favourite female poets and asked them if they would feature in an eBook anthology. This left them with a new question, could they successfully tackle the formatting issues that would be raised by attempting to present poetry in this way, could they as editors of a print journal, publish the first eBook of contemporary women’s poetry?

The result is Fire On Her Tongue, proudly featuring over 70 poets, each represented by several of their works and each having a small bio with a link to their own site. The poets age ranges from thirteen to ninety one and cover most of the USA, some are urban, some rural, some are academics or professionals, some are stay at home Mums, but all are poets.

Negative Four Hundred.

The rain carves patterns

into my window.

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It will be different this time,

I promise,

The words crisscross over

stones.

******************

I remember she told me,

Curved hips,

they are like waves.

****************

She could hear my heartbeats,

every breath.

***********

Every day we mapped it,

found a beginning but no end.

**********

I whisper the name

of my being:

human. 

*************Maya Ganasen

 

This is a collection I’ve had for a while now and I’m constantly amazed at the range of poetry contained within it’s electronic pages. Yes they are all predominantly written by women living in America, which does limit it to an anthology of contemporary American women’s poetry, which would be a more accurate title, but that’s just a small niggle, and one that doesn’t fit with the ethos behind Fire On Her Tongue, which was to represent Kelli Russell Agodon & Annette Spaulding-Convy favourite female poets in a way that would do them justice, in a way that left a zero carbon footprint, and was available on most eBook formats, such as Kindle, Nook, iBooks, Sony Reader, and other eBook retailers.

This is a worthy addition to any E-library, in fact any library and one that you could constantly dive into and find new gems, maybe by poets already known but also by poets yet to have hit the mainstream of this genre, in this respect it provides a wonderful overview of the state of women’s poetry in America today and if this collection is anything to go by, it appears to be alive, well and vibrant, truly vibrant.

Because You Are Dying, And Other Excuses.

I confess that I have been less

than I:

less mother, daughter, wife.

I confess

**********************

I’ve forgotten to pay

the quarterly taxes, attention

to the larger particulars. I confess

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that I have turned off my phone.

Turned it on only

when guilt rang,

and

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I confess to the cookbook

I’d rather read than bake a cake, make

lasagne with pesto, confess to

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the checkbook I’d rather siesta

than shop for gifts for the birthday

we’ll celebrate, three days

late.

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I confess to the eggs in the pan

forgotten in the pan

(forgotten in the pan)

so long in the pan

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blackened, the eggs

a shell

of their former selves. I confess

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to the trash bin that accepted

these two small murders without question

the air confessing my transgressions

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my never-enough

my les-than. 

*************************Ronda Broatch

 

Two Sylvias Press was founded in 2010 by poets Kelli Russell Agodon and Annette Spaulding-Convy (Co-Editors of Crab Creek Review literary journal). Two Sylvias Press draws its inspiration from the poetic literary talent of Sylvia Plath and the editorial business sense of Sylvia Beach. We are dedicated to publishing the exceptional voices of women

 

Kelli Russell Agodon is the author of Letters from the Emily Dickinson Room (White Pine Press, 2010), Winner of the ForeWord Magazine Book of the Year Prize in Poetry and Washington State Book Award Finalist. 
She is also the author of Small Knots (2004) and Geography, winner of the 2003 Floating Bridge Press Chapbook Award. She is the co-editor of Seattle’s literary journal, Crab Creek Review and the co-founder of Two Sylvias Press. 
Kelli blogs at Book of Kells: www.ofkells.blogspot.com or her website: www.agodon.com

Annette Spaulding-Convy’s full length collection, In Broken Latin, will be published by the University of Arkansas Press (Fall 2012) as a finalist for the Miller Williams Poetry Prize. 
Her chapbook, In The Convent We Become Clouds, won the 2006 Floating Bridge Press Chapbook Award and was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. 
Her poems have appeared in Prairie Schooner, North American Review, Crab Orchard Review and in the International Feminist Journal of Politics, among others. She is co-editor of the literary journal, Crab Creek Review, and is co-founder of Two Sylvias Press.
Visit Annette: http://www.annettespauldingconvy.com/

Sea Of Ink ~ Richard Weihe

The Ming Dynasty, was the ruling dynasty of China from 1368 to 1644 and rose from the collapse of the Mongol-led Yuan Dynasty. The Empire of the Great Ming, reigned for 276 years and has been described as "one of the greatest eras of orderly government and social stability in human history", it was the last dynasty governed by the ethnic Han Chinese. The capital Beijing fell in 1644 to a rebellion led by Li Zicheng who established the Shun Dynasty, although this was short-lived as Li Zicheng failed to realise his ambitions and was defeated at the Battle of Shanhai Pass, by the joint forces of the Ming general  Wu Sangui and Manchu prince Dorgon. After his defeat he fled back to Beijing and proclaimed himself Emperor of China, then left the capital rather rapidly, the Shun dynasty ended with his death in 1645. The Shun reign was superseded by the Manchu-led Qing Dynasty,  although scattered remnants of Ming supporters held out, despite losing Beijing and the death of the emperor. Nanjing, Fujian, Guangdong, Shanxi, and Yunnan were all strongholds of Ming resistance. However, there were several pretenders for the Ming throne, creating a weak and divided force, until one by one each bastion of resistance was defeated by the Qing until 1662, when the last real hopes of a Ming revival died with the Yongli emperor, Zhu Youlang.

This is the background to Sea of Ink, the story of how Zhu Da, the prince of Yiyang, distant descendant of the Prince of Ning, the seventeenth son of the founder of the Ming dynasty, became Bada Shanren, widely regarded as the leading painter of the early Qing dynasty and a huge influence on Chinese painting from the Eight Eccentrics of Yangzhou (mid-Qing period), the Shanghai School in the late Qing, and even two hundred years after his death his work has influenced  20th century Chinese painting, including Wu Changsuo (1844-1927), Qi Baishi (1864-1957), and Zhang Daqian (1899-1983).

 

Born Zhu Da in 1626 into a family of scholars, poets  and calligraphers, Zhu Da’s childhood was one of untroubled bliss, surrounded by the wealth and glamour of a prince and relative, although a distant one of the founder of the Ming dynasty. At the age of eight  he had begun writing poetry, and was considered a child prodigy, as he had taken to painting from an early age, spoilt and admired life looked wonderful. All this would come crashing down when he was in his  teens, as the Manchu’s gained control of the country, violently cutting down all that stood in their way. He was eighteen when they took Beijing and nineteen when their forces occupied Nanchang, the seat of power for his family.

At some point during this time frame Zhu Da, fled his home taking refuge in a Buddhist  temple and changing his name to Chuanqi, here he would remain, burying himself in Buddhist teaching. In 1653 he was admitted to a small circle of pupils under the tutelage of the Abbot Hongmin, attaining his masters examination and now empowered to pass on tenets of Buddhist wisdom to younger scholars.

Life for Chuanqi,  became one of contemplation, although sometimes curiosity got the better of him and he visited the local town, wandering the streets and gesticulating wildly and alternating between fits of laughter and tears, before falling down drunk and senseless in some tavern, giving the impression to all who saw him of some madman. It was 1658 before he took up the brush again and started studying painting.

In fifty one beautifully crafted chapters, this book manages to capture the life of not just one of China’s greatest exponents of the Shuimohua* style of painting, but a man who was an enigma, a spoilt and adored  Prince to Buddhist abbot, madman to respected artist, poet and philosopher, all told with a use of language that has wonder - whether of life or of art, as vital an ingredient as the ink printed on the page.

“On one occasion his father made him step barefoot into a bowl of ink and then walk along the length of a roll of paper. To begin with, Zhu’s footprints were wet and black; with each step they became lighter until they were barely visible any more. Then he hopped from the paper back onto the wooden floor.   His father took a brush and wrote at the top of the scroll: A small segment of the long path of my son Zhu Da. And further down: A path comes into existence by being walked on.”

There were times whilst I was reading this that reminded me of In Praise of Shadows by Jun’ichiro Tanizaki, not so much in the writing but more the aesthetic ideal (Iki*) behind it. This is partly down to the subject matter of art, particularly in the descriptions of the eleven pictures by Shanren featured in the book. But the main reason is that like the art itself, this book is composed of minimal brushstrokes that describes Bada Shanren’s journey with just enough light and shade to reveal the tale in all its depth, allowing the tale to almost tell itself, and again like the art work it does this with a wonderful degree of subtlety.

                                        ~ ~ ~

 Richard Weihe studied drama and philosophy in Zurich and Oxford. His poetic biographies of influential artists have earned him a wide readership. Sea of Ink, published in Switzerland in 2005, won the Prix des Audituers de la Radio Suisse Romande. In 2010 he published Ocean of Milk based on the Indian-Hungarian painter Amrita Sher-Gil.

Jamie Bulloch has already translated Portrait of the Mother as a Young Woman by FC Delius (Peirene No 3) for Peirene. He has worked as a professional translator from German since 2001. He is also the author of A Short History of Tuscany and Karl Renner: Austria.

Jamie on translating Sea of Ink.

'The major challenge when translating this novel was to emulate the deceptive simplicity of Richard Weihe's prose style, which is not only perfectly suited to conveying the metaphysical discursions of the book, but also reflects the economy of Bada Shanren's beautiful linear paintings, ten of which are included here. Sea of Ink may be a very slim volume, but it packs a lot into its few pages, and the meditative character of the novel stays with the reader long after the final page has been turned. A thought-provoking and inspirational book.'

Jamie Bulloch

Peirene Press

New Books In German (Peirene’s Meike)

*Ink wash Painting

 

Iki is an expression of simplicity, sophistication, spontaneity, and originality. It is ephemeral, romantic, straightforward, measured, audacious, smart, and unselfconscious. Although this concept is Japanese, like a lot of concepts there is a sharing and a similar heritage.

The Natty Hat Competition Winner is ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There has been a technical error, the random generator, that usually does this (my daughter), has had the audacity to grow up and go out to her friend’s birthday party in the evening, but luckily I managed to locate a back up device to perform this task…

Meet Islay my back up random generator, she is named after the Scottish island my favourite malt whisky comes from and although most people seem to think she’s cute, she is really a demon-hound in cute disguise.  Now to the result ----- The Winner of The Natty Hat Competition is   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mae.

As the winner she will receive a copy of Definitions by Octavian Paler, he was a poet, novelist, essayist, journalist and politician in Romania. This is a wonderful little book of Haiku-like poems.

Definition of a raindrop.

The lizards would tear it apart

thinking it was just a dead tear

if it hadn’t seeds of lightening within it.

My thanks to all who took part in this competition and added thanks to Judith for once again staging this giveaway & allowing me my delusions of grandeur.