Monday, 27 April 2020
Friday, 17 April 2020
Rakhshan Rizwan reads from Paisley
Whilst aimlessly Facebooking this evening, I happened upon an event in swing (well, it had already swung by the time I saw it, but it had 'gone live' to the world recently), and I'm so glad I did. Rakhshan Rizwan was reading from her debut collection Paisley from The Emma Press, and chatting to her host Emma Wright, founder of said press. You can (I think...) view the reading by clicking here: https://www.facebook.com/TheEmmaPress/videos/159614752058509/
First off, I want to say a bit about the reading as a concept. In this time of lockdown, the gig was held over an online conference call facility, but, put simply, it detracted from nothing. The poems sparkled with the same jewell-light that they would do had they been coming in live, over radio, or whatever. You still got that 'extra magic' of seeing the author interacting with their own work and the audience - which is always the great privilege at readings - and even, thanks to the generosity of the participants, some questions and answers, too. In some ways, I actually preferred it being online. Sometimes while traveling to events, especially in a big city, I can tend to arrive there fatigued and nervous, and can't always give the artists one-hundred per cent concentration. Not so when I'm watching it at home! I did miss chatting to other people who were enjoying the evening, tho, especially one person who I often get to chat to on the train back from Manchester after Peter Barlow's Cigarette extravaganzas... Anyway, this isn't a 'compare and contrast' of reading types - it's just to say that I felt all the wonderful buzz and inspiration I normally do when I go to a reading, that everyone did a bloomin' good job, and how lucky I am :)
I enjoyed the poetry, too. It started off with a poem about time, which is my favourite philosophical preoccupation (just reading that phrase will do strange things to your temporal perception, so I'd call a doctor if I were you...), that conveys such an important truth about 'organisation' - of society and therefore our lives.
When I hear a 'broad title' (i.e. a title that's named after a topic/issue/concept, so as to give it an expansive gaze) such as 'Migrant', I often worry that it's going to take on a kind of polemic tone, be very preachy and flat, but Rizwan absolutely avoided this in her poem of that name. Her work instead found new, touching ways of exploring ideas surrounding migration. One 'cheesy' line gives us an essential, immediate image ("Leerdammer cheese sits on a slice of toast," making me think of the things that unite us all in humanhood), whilst the next one zooms out to the wider injustices played out by many in a society that is, unfortunately, more divided than it should be - "I shed pounds working two jobs in hopes of securing a paper-thin ticket home." For context, this last line brings together much of the poems tangible quality, the idea of the length of grass, the movement of turbine blades in air, of snow's weight - it really holds you tight into its being, so you feel it, and hear what it's saying.
Next I want to say how repetition is used well in many of the works she read out tonight (indeed, repetition is discussed in her QnA at the end, so do watch 'til the end to gain the benefit of insight). In 'Eve', the speaker 'carries' and 'brings' with her many visceral things ("fragments of pain," as Rizwan calls them in her preamble), and the repetition of the act of toting terrors adds it up, like a physical weight, in the mind of the listener, and if it makes us feel uneasy to hear the poem, just remember back to the first lines, and how "the misplaced smiles of acid-corroded faces" are not just words, but realities. Also, in 'Urdu/Hindi' and 'Paisley', there is a significant amount of repetition - of the titular words themselves. As you will know if you read my blog, I have a weird quirk where I don't like repetition very much usually, and I think Rizwan just balances on the tight rope over 'Too Much Chasm' (it's a real place, look it up). It helps one focus on these concepts, I felt in a meditative way (not in the sense of 'drift off to music' meditation, but 'intense, re-centring' meditation), and the repetition served as a kind of 'Om', a primordial calling, getting us to listen and be there with her as she speaks.
So, yeah, I definitely have another book to add to my Emma Press wish list :)
Hope you folks are all staying well under lockdown, and I urge you to take my life advice (suitable both in and out of a crisis); find what brings you joy, and do it (barring things that cause harm to others!). In my case, poetry readings bring me joy, and I just want to again say how lucky I have been to listen to this one, and thank you for reading!
Peace, love, and light.
[a link to some of Rizwan's work: https://themissingslate.com/tag/rakhshan-rizwan/]
First off, I want to say a bit about the reading as a concept. In this time of lockdown, the gig was held over an online conference call facility, but, put simply, it detracted from nothing. The poems sparkled with the same jewell-light that they would do had they been coming in live, over radio, or whatever. You still got that 'extra magic' of seeing the author interacting with their own work and the audience - which is always the great privilege at readings - and even, thanks to the generosity of the participants, some questions and answers, too. In some ways, I actually preferred it being online. Sometimes while traveling to events, especially in a big city, I can tend to arrive there fatigued and nervous, and can't always give the artists one-hundred per cent concentration. Not so when I'm watching it at home! I did miss chatting to other people who were enjoying the evening, tho, especially one person who I often get to chat to on the train back from Manchester after Peter Barlow's Cigarette extravaganzas... Anyway, this isn't a 'compare and contrast' of reading types - it's just to say that I felt all the wonderful buzz and inspiration I normally do when I go to a reading, that everyone did a bloomin' good job, and how lucky I am :)
I enjoyed the poetry, too. It started off with a poem about time, which is my favourite philosophical preoccupation (just reading that phrase will do strange things to your temporal perception, so I'd call a doctor if I were you...), that conveys such an important truth about 'organisation' - of society and therefore our lives.
When I hear a 'broad title' (i.e. a title that's named after a topic/issue/concept, so as to give it an expansive gaze) such as 'Migrant', I often worry that it's going to take on a kind of polemic tone, be very preachy and flat, but Rizwan absolutely avoided this in her poem of that name. Her work instead found new, touching ways of exploring ideas surrounding migration. One 'cheesy' line gives us an essential, immediate image ("Leerdammer cheese sits on a slice of toast," making me think of the things that unite us all in humanhood), whilst the next one zooms out to the wider injustices played out by many in a society that is, unfortunately, more divided than it should be - "I shed pounds working two jobs in hopes of securing a paper-thin ticket home." For context, this last line brings together much of the poems tangible quality, the idea of the length of grass, the movement of turbine blades in air, of snow's weight - it really holds you tight into its being, so you feel it, and hear what it's saying.
Next I want to say how repetition is used well in many of the works she read out tonight (indeed, repetition is discussed in her QnA at the end, so do watch 'til the end to gain the benefit of insight). In 'Eve', the speaker 'carries' and 'brings' with her many visceral things ("fragments of pain," as Rizwan calls them in her preamble), and the repetition of the act of toting terrors adds it up, like a physical weight, in the mind of the listener, and if it makes us feel uneasy to hear the poem, just remember back to the first lines, and how "the misplaced smiles of acid-corroded faces" are not just words, but realities. Also, in 'Urdu/Hindi' and 'Paisley', there is a significant amount of repetition - of the titular words themselves. As you will know if you read my blog, I have a weird quirk where I don't like repetition very much usually, and I think Rizwan just balances on the tight rope over 'Too Much Chasm' (it's a real place, look it up). It helps one focus on these concepts, I felt in a meditative way (not in the sense of 'drift off to music' meditation, but 'intense, re-centring' meditation), and the repetition served as a kind of 'Om', a primordial calling, getting us to listen and be there with her as she speaks.
So, yeah, I definitely have another book to add to my Emma Press wish list :)
Hope you folks are all staying well under lockdown, and I urge you to take my life advice (suitable both in and out of a crisis); find what brings you joy, and do it (barring things that cause harm to others!). In my case, poetry readings bring me joy, and I just want to again say how lucky I have been to listen to this one, and thank you for reading!
Peace, love, and light.
[a link to some of Rizwan's work: https://themissingslate.com/tag/rakhshan-rizwan/]
Monday, 13 April 2020
This Should Be A Happy Day
You're probably too young to remember, but I can recall the day when the launch of a new YouTube channel and its videos was a glorious thing, greeted with tumultuous applause, a veritable orgasm of emotional outpouring. Officials from the towns and cities would break a bottle of special reserve Champagne over the channel title - drips and drops of the drink dribbling down onto the sidebars and the videos themselves - and they'd have, oh, at least three cheers, but sometimes more. Maybe that was more a regional thing... My point is that they used to love it. Oh, yes, telegrams were sent, guns fired into the air, bunting put up, flags waved, you get the picture.
As the years passed, though, there were warning signs. Some of the officials that came to cut the tape and Champerschristen the budding vlog saplings started turning up late to the launches. Some of them yawned. Some of them, in remarkable displays of disrespect, drank the Champagne and smashed the empty bottle over the channel. All of a sudden, the police were "too overstretched" to clamp down on such breaches, and, little by little, our fine, upstanding traditions were whittled down to the attendance of a few die-hard fans, who might still bring a party-popper or two along, just to try and hark back to the grandeur of those halcyon days. Which brings us to
TODAY. You are now more likely to be punched in the nose, shot, or blacklisted from your local Screwfix for daring to impugn the sovereign nature of the internet with a new, upstart channel. Such besmirchments are clamped down on with a kind of 'negative vigour' that is the direct opposite of the joyous exulatations we used to see in support. 'Those were days', says this writer in a grim and ultimately pointless muttering into the void.
This writer is also launching his own channel. There's a video, anyway. Come what may, here it is:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=54IJdgWlM8A
As the years passed, though, there were warning signs. Some of the officials that came to cut the tape and Champerschristen the budding vlog saplings started turning up late to the launches. Some of them yawned. Some of them, in remarkable displays of disrespect, drank the Champagne and smashed the empty bottle over the channel. All of a sudden, the police were "too overstretched" to clamp down on such breaches, and, little by little, our fine, upstanding traditions were whittled down to the attendance of a few die-hard fans, who might still bring a party-popper or two along, just to try and hark back to the grandeur of those halcyon days. Which brings us to
TODAY. You are now more likely to be punched in the nose, shot, or blacklisted from your local Screwfix for daring to impugn the sovereign nature of the internet with a new, upstart channel. Such besmirchments are clamped down on with a kind of 'negative vigour' that is the direct opposite of the joyous exulatations we used to see in support. 'Those were days', says this writer in a grim and ultimately pointless muttering into the void.
This writer is also launching his own channel. There's a video, anyway. Come what may, here it is:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=54IJdgWlM8A
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