Right, I'm not going to start this post off by saying how busy I've been, and how time has flown (over six weeks ago? Really!?!). I'm not going to do it. You deserve better. Anyways, way back on May 14th, I had a lovely day. Sarah L Dixon was back in town with her Quiet Comperetour, so the day started with a workshop - led by the Quiet Compere herself - had the
addition of another cup to Liverpool's cabinet in the middle, and in the
evening ended with the Quiet Compere's poetry showcase. It was so good to be guesting again. Last time I was on the bill, hmm, when would that be? Probably Peter Barlow's Cigarette, but how many years ago I dread to think. I can't explain why it means something to me. Maybe it's about validation on some level, but it doesn't feel like that. It's more likely that being billed increases the pressure and feeling of scrutiny, you know, you really want to give your best, whereas if it's an open mic, I feel a bit more like I can take a liberty or two. Well, one or two more liberties (we are talking about poetry here!). Speaking about being on the bill, though, I really like the Quiet Compere's philosophy that no names are bigger than any other. She doesn't give any lengthy intros that list achievements, it was purely and simply the artist's name, and getting on with the readings.
Showing posts with label Jim Lupton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jim Lupton. Show all posts
Thursday, 30 June 2022
Beyond Compere
The showcase began with an open mic session, and this exemplified the quality and diversity over the whole night (this is what's so exciting to me - all these different styles and themes all rubbing up against one another!). A number of my friends read out - Jim, Voirrey, Matt, and better-half-Becks, who were all great performers with wonderful material - and a few others, Griff Jones, who I've seen on the local circuit before, and a student Clodagh (who was at the workshop at the Nib Crib, too), who really impressed me by performing from memory an experimental piece with a complex interweaving of repetition and progression. The future's bright with such stars around.
I enjoyed the second half of the evening as well, which featured the featured writers. Even all this time later, I remember fondly how Zoe Lambert made us laugh with her keen observations of what it's like to grow up and discover oneself. Peter Kalu was great, and tackled big themes with warmth (and encouraged us to throw money at him, which was something new). JJ Journeyman really got me thinking. I suppose I normally regard 'character poets' with a bit of suspicion ('can't it just be about good poetry' is my usual thought), but his performance broke through my cynicism, made me laugh and think, and I'm gutted that I overthought the throwing of his bear into the suitcase (nope - not going to give you any context for that). Sarah Corbett was great, too, and her pieces felt very finely crafted, with a magical music in them (reminds me, I must look at getting a book or two of hers...). Big Charlie Poet was good, too, what I'd describe as 'rawly personal', having written touching work about, for example, depression and relationships.
Sarah's post here tells the story of the night better than I could, making my whole post here rather redundant:
Check out the rest of the tour here (next one on the July 1st!): http://thequietcompere.co.uk/events-organiser/
Look out soon, as I'm going to post one of the poems I wrote at the workshop, which I also performed at the showcase.
Tuesday, 7 December 2021
New S
Hello you! How you doing?
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| Kostumes for Komedy |
Eeh, it's been a long time, hasn't it? I know I've always been good at being bad at keeping this blog up to date, but wow, it really has been ages... Just lately, though, I've had so much news I've been physically shaking - so I need to let you know what's going on POST HASTE.
One of the big lovely things happening in Morecambe at the mo is The Nib Crib flourishing, and all their events are being enjoyed. A group of friends and I are the collective force behind this lovely community group - The Nib Crib - that is centred mainly around the 'written' arts. Our current events (which are always subject to change, as we like to listen to the people that come along), are Get Your Words Out (for performance of a variety of work), Play Reading, Book Club, Debate Club, and others. We've even had some generative days, by which I mean writing sessions and workshops (one of which I helped to run, and that was a lovely experience). We don't charge folks for enjoying themselves in our place, but we do encourage donations, as we are fully self-funded. Details of Nib Crib activities can be found here. We also appeared in a nice article not so long back - you can read that here.
This leads on to other performance news in the area. First off is a new open mic night in Lancaster, held at The George and Dragon on the Quay (St George's Quay, in fact. Funny, that...), from 2000-2300hrs every Thursday. I've been a few times now with my poetry and short stories - always had a warm welcome, a receptive audience, and just a bloody good time all round!
Next though, a real exciting thing. My good friend Jim and myself performed a comedy sketch at The West End Playhouse's 'First Friday Cabaret' last week. Jim is the main creative force, but I had a lot of fun assisting with the script, and it was tremendous to perform it. I don't mean 'tremendous great woohoo', because I never really remember much of my performances. I'm normally really focussed on trying to breathe and remember my words, or whatever, so am not really enjoying the present moment all that much. It was, however, tremendous in the sense of what we achieved, the enjoyment of the audience, and generally I'm just appreciating that we have options (within the artistic community in Morecambe, and maybe further), and that is quite exciting, if I may say. In short, our sketch was based on cheese puns. It was a bit like the version of Monty Python that you'd find in a festive cracker... I liked that we weren't after laughs, we were after groans, and that appealed to me as someone who doesn't like to give the audience what they want (or what they think they want, at least).
While I'm here, big up to all the rest of the performers, including other Nib Crib stalwarts and friends :) Great job, everyone (Y)
Perhaps more importantly, Jim has just started a blog, The Writes of Passage and has put up one of my favourite pieces of his: 'Young 'un'. Please go give it a read - you'll be glad you did. He's got an amazing diversity of talents that extend well beyond writing, but within the written world, he is adept at making people laugh, as well as seriously tugging at heart strings. I always love to hear his latest work and let it affect me.
Anyways, that's not the total of my news, but you've only got so much will to live, I'm sure, and I wouldn't want to be accused of taking the last of it from you. At least some of my shaking's stopped, and I even think some of that nasty tumescence has abated, so winner winner!
I hope you're all keeping well out there - as well as you can, at least - and, hey, peace, love, and light to you xox
Thursday, 12 December 2019
Hoping for a Fringemas Miracle
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| This is obviously the Fringemas Carol poster... Courtesy of Alt-Space. |
That draft was a first in another way, too, in the sense that I've never written stuff for others to perform before (not with an actual production in mind, I mean). It was an interesting process, really, from start to finish. There were lots of Morecambrians at the first meeting back in November, and I was anxious about how everyone would get their voices heard. Initially, Jim and me were writing the first scene, but that escalated to the full five scenes. We both found a solid few days together to nail down the plot arcs, dialogue, directions etc. As I've said elsewhere, we collaborated well together on it, both got our own jokes and stuff in, a lot of which remained in the final version. That was another thing quite new to me, the extent to which our draft would be changed - but not in the way a lot of people assumed. Some folks have thought I'd be annoyed/insulted by people "messing" with my words, but a) I'm aware of (not used to, or practised in) the collaborative process of producing (especially scripts. I mean, the logistics of a project can only truly be understood after contact with the event conditions, run-throughs and stuff, and the players have new ideas of their own too, so this medium is almost made to be changed. It's a natural part of the process), and b) my journey through life has ably taught me how egotistical thoughts (i.e. thinking of MY work, and how PERFECT it is) are a way of goading the cosmos into slapping you down into the ground.
Anyway, the changes were genuinely big improvements. One of my memories of the night that will stay with me 'til I get Alzheimer's is how big the smiles and laughter were of the kids in attendance. I know how schmaltzy that sounds, but it was true - those kids really enjoyed being there, and the songs that were added in after our initial draft were a big part of that. But, as I said before, lots stayed in, and it was a new buzz for me to have an audience laugh at things I'd written, and I felt so proud of Jim when people laughed at his jokes, and my other friends, too, because of their vibrant performances. A special mention to Matt Panesh, who put it all together and co-directed with June Metcalfe, all the actors, the costumiers, proppers, and the very public that came out to support us, and added to the ambience with singing and 'oh yes it is-ing'. It was truly a lovely night.
Now, a key change. The very place that has hosted our fair panto is in danger. Because of a lack of funding to cover the basics such as rent, Mr Panesh is being forced to close the whole shebang down. This is a huge shame, as you can see by all the glowing comments in this article. Although life and (mainly) work have prevented me from visiting Alt-Space as much as I would have liked, I still remember my first time there - going to a debating night, where I met friendly new people, and had a fun time irreverently arguing various different cases. Then there was a play reading group, which was another night outside my comfort zone, but it was energising to look at a form I hardly engage with, and actually look at the performance side of things - gives you a fresher outlook on your own writing practice, I reckon.
One of the positives, whatever happens, is that the fantastic Morecambe Fringe Festival can still go ahead (because they can use other venues to host their acts). The problem with that, though, is that the inclusion of local talent and home-grown shows will be much more difficult, because Matt has been using Alt-Space to build up these performers. Watching these local-wrought shows have been amongst my most amazing Morecambe memories over the last couple of years, and being around the buzz of rehearsals, re-writes, and reviewers has been an honour and a pleasure. I hope, therefore, that this is not the end.
Now, another key change - back to near where we were originally BUT NOT QUITE. Next year, if all goes well, I believe there's a proposed rebranding of Alt-Space to the West End Play House, shedding a brighter limelight on local drama talent (though I'm sure that house will still include the wonderful comedy, spoken word etc to which we have become addicted), for which there is a great anticipation. There is a fundraising page up already (clicking on this paragraph will take you there), and their target is £5,000, which should provide a fair bit of breathing space with the landperson well into the new year, and allow Morecambe to continue to have this vital, fertile atmosphere for artists. I think the best thing to do is to give what we can and even if that's nothing monetary, we can raise awareness by sharing the fundraiser link. If the right people see it, and get behind the project, then we should be able to put a significant dent in the rent, as it were. So please have a look at the fundraiser, please look at the proposals, and please do what you're able - whether that be financially, or spreading the message, or both.
Peace, love, and light, folks :D
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| Write or wrong, we helped to create the Fringemas panto - Jim on the left, me on the right. |
Thursday, 21 November 2019
The Best Laid Plans
Ages ago, I had big plans to write a grand 'this week in the arts' post, in which I was going to assume the role of one of my obnoxious Blogtastic characters, and promise a thrilling instalment every week - the joke being that it was a shallow one-off. I was going to put a lot of effort into it - jokes ideas, drafting, and such - and hoped to be proud of it. Alas, as we know, life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans, and I'm months down the line with no Blogtastic posts. So I'm going to sit here and write nakedly (no, I won't apologise for that image). It won't be a highly polished piece, but, damnit, I want to share with you as many of the positives as I can remember since I was last around. It has been too long!
Firstly, there has been at least some writing. I had an idea for a new novel while I was on a little break in gorgeous Ribblehead (where, I must brag, I had embarrassingly good weather for the time of year - so my boots got a good pounding), which is loosely to do with the battle between a natural life and the lure of technological advancements - particularly social media. I don't think it's an earth-shattering existential exposé, but the dark comedy of my idea tickled me, and I'm both sad that the idea has been left to go colder, but also hopeful that I get time to go back to it, and rekindle it (along with my last novel in progress, for that matter. And the one before that... [and so on - Ed.]. I've also been writing some non-fiction bits and bats (I did five essays based on 'the five paths to happiness' that we discussed in a talking group I now go to every week. I'll write out these tenets at the end), have carried on with my dream diary and gratitude journal (or gratitude diary and dream journal?), dabbled with a couple of poems (one of which turned out to be a dead-end of inspiration, whilst one I can actually see getting into a finished state with relative ease). What else... I think that's about it, apart from writing letters to my dad, and one more thing, for which I am going to subtly start a new paragraph.
That thing is film reviews. In the past three months, I have seen more films at the cinema than I had in the past three years (actually, until recently, I've hardly been watching any films on the telly or anything. It can be surprisingly easy to let things that bring you joy slip from your life). One has been brilliant, one has been a decent effort, one has been pants, and the watching of another one has eluded me so far... But my point is that, as well as re-discovering the joy of movie-going - making plans, seeing it at the height of newness, not being interrupted by adverts, the spectacular big screen and surround-sound, that feeling of leaving the building and looking at nightstruck Morecambe with another world lingering in your senses - I've been writing reviews. Again, I had planned to have them up on Blogtastic sharpish - which hasn't happened - but I hope that mentioning it here will act as a promise to you, dear audience, and will help prompt me to overcome my issues [don't go into them. Please - Ed.] and publish them.
I've been to the theatre a couple of times, too. Way back in August (was it?), I saw a night of Eastern European theatre in Lancaster, which was very powerful. There was a one-person performance of Macbeth - in Slovakian - was, in short, defamiliarizing and refamiliarizing, and had amazing physicality and energy, and was memorable and touched me with its emotional resonance. There was also a Polish multimedia piece centring on gulags, which was dourer, and perhaps more thought provoking in a direct way - especially as it was based on more tangibly real history. I am assured by one of the organisers that it will be back bigger and better next year, so keep your eyes peeled on the Storey Institute's various event regurgitation channels. The second thing I saw was a Lancaster-based production of Wind in the Willows. It wouldn't be my first choice usually, but I went because someone I know was in the cast, and he did a great job in about five different roles (I'd struggle with one! Blimey!). It seems Lancaster Grand Theatre's visions get bigger and bolder, and yet they realise them with aplomb - the limits of the stage are stretched to fit in all the characters and props, and all the singing and dancing is tight and well-realised. Fantastic.
Speaking of screen and stage (look back at the last two paragraphs...), I'm still thankful and excited that all of Lewis' hard work over at LBP Productions has resulted in the wonderful The Way to a Man's Heart - a deliciously dark short film based on a short story I wrote of the same name. Check it out, you won't regret it! I don't think so, anyway... I mean, you might, but [okay, okay, that's enough of that... - Ed.] And as for the stage bit, a good friend of mine in Morecambe - Jim Lupton - and myself worked on a script a month or so ago for a local Christmas panto. It's the folks at Alt-Space that're producing the play, with the help of the West End players. It was a fun writing process - we focused on different elements (such as plot and dialogue) that complimented each other, and also worked together on some of the elements (such as jokes), had lots of laughs between us, and reached a first draft quickly. It was the first time I've worked with Jim on anything other than pub banter haha, and we want more. Fingers crossed we get our wish, and make a big difference with our words in the near future.
Next [and hopefully finally... - Ed.] is reading. Did you know, you're doing it right now? I've been doing some, too. I finally got round to reading Nineteen Eighty-Four: A Novel, after many years of wanting to, and a few years of even (sort of) having it in my possession. I'm obviously glad I read it, as to me it's clearly the work of a very sharp mind, and it entertained me. It's not my favourite 'dystopian' novel by quite a way tho (and would remain a way off, I think, even if 'The Book' was taken out of it) - I prefer We (which, I believe, inspired Orwell quite heavily), This Perfect Day (even though that has more of a thriller vibe to it in some ways), and, I dunno, maybe Brave New World too. People had overhyped 1984 for me, and whereas, yes, the things Orwell wrote about were imaginatively prescient, I think Newspeak is the only concrete 'wow' facet for me. All these other works, in my opinion, have more aptly predicted more resonant issues in our society (the way people are tracked in TPD seems more like our mobile phones, and ties in with self-policing in a less obvious way), or put a wilder spin on things, to show us how we are. But anyway, rant over - of course it is a great work, and deserves its accolades as one of the canonical pillars of modern western literature.
Speaking of pillars, deserving of his own paragraph here is Robert Sheppard. His Drayton's Idea sonnet translations - that I have been enjoying immensely on Pages - have come to an end (oh no!), due to Brexit's depressingly slow - and ominous - roll. He has extended the project (oh yay!) using Drayton work from Idea's Mirror, which is a boon to those who lap it up like me. The guy is just unfathomably clever. The concept alone is genius, but to be that erudite, to contain imagery, humour, but also work density into his language as well as he does... It is first of all witty and entertaining, but as valid a political document as you could want also. It amazes and inspires me, and I've not this way about someone's swift, deft, and staminous [are you talking about the quality of having great stamina? Because 'staminous' ain't that... - Ed.] efforts since Tim Allen's 'Not National Poetry Day' project. I would love both of these projects to be published in full. It makes me feel good about life to experience work by people who are so on top of the game - sharp, irreverent, ludic etc - but have all the technical ability you could imagine to back it all up and help it hang together.
I feel like I should give Ian Seed his own paragraph now (it's been a long time coming, to be fair). Sorry, I'm being silly now... Anyway - I read Distances by Ian Seed recently, and enjoyed that a lot. I am not an expert on prose poetry, and couldn't really define it, except that I feel comfortable basking in Seed's living scenes. I think this prose poetry is where action meets an image/scene and produces a sense of being close to a life lesson, or a cosmic message. It's like an aphorism in motion, but when I say that, it falls so short of Seed's wonderfully comic eye (as it were). I mean, he portrays the humour (sort of dark humour, but not dark dark. Maybe shades of grey, like the lack of obvious right and wrong in the world his characters inhabit - there's no clear way, there's just being, and trying, and a sort of resolution in failure) in a situation, in the people's proximity to achieving their intentions, but someone or something falls short. They are like jokes in set-up, too, (like, their framing) so maybe that's where the poetic element comes in, because the way the form and content play is not 'prosaic' - or standardly prosaic, anyway. I have got no idea what I'm saying. Unintentionally. This is not a joke [don't we know it... - Ed.]. Help! Can I just repeat that I really enjoyed Distances? The scenes were very vibrant, and there were many images I can recall even now, but more than this was the breath blown into the players, and I can't rid myself of the 'cosmic cringe' I felt, feeling sorry for these characters and the gaffes they cause/are embroiled in, but knowing that it could not have been elsewise. Oh damnit, I'm rambling again. One of my favourite lines was [bus thing. Loss]. This was from Red Ceilings, and, also from them, I am looking forward to reading my copy of Sheppard's Micro Event Space. He has been, as usual, very generous in publishing related materials on Pages, and in reading them, I have made my appetite keen.
Riiiiiiiiiight.. That's surely more than enough for one post? But, as I said, I'm not going to polish it. This is it. Deal with it. Please.
What are you up to, anyway?
Peace, love, and light :)
Five Paths to Happiness (as they appeared in our group conversation)
Firstly, there has been at least some writing. I had an idea for a new novel while I was on a little break in gorgeous Ribblehead (where, I must brag, I had embarrassingly good weather for the time of year - so my boots got a good pounding), which is loosely to do with the battle between a natural life and the lure of technological advancements - particularly social media. I don't think it's an earth-shattering existential exposé, but the dark comedy of my idea tickled me, and I'm both sad that the idea has been left to go colder, but also hopeful that I get time to go back to it, and rekindle it (along with my last novel in progress, for that matter. And the one before that... [and so on - Ed.]. I've also been writing some non-fiction bits and bats (I did five essays based on 'the five paths to happiness' that we discussed in a talking group I now go to every week. I'll write out these tenets at the end), have carried on with my dream diary and gratitude journal (or gratitude diary and dream journal?), dabbled with a couple of poems (one of which turned out to be a dead-end of inspiration, whilst one I can actually see getting into a finished state with relative ease). What else... I think that's about it, apart from writing letters to my dad, and one more thing, for which I am going to subtly start a new paragraph.
 |
| Ribblehead quarry (makes me a Quarryman) |
I've been to the theatre a couple of times, too. Way back in August (was it?), I saw a night of Eastern European theatre in Lancaster, which was very powerful. There was a one-person performance of Macbeth - in Slovakian - was, in short, defamiliarizing and refamiliarizing, and had amazing physicality and energy, and was memorable and touched me with its emotional resonance. There was also a Polish multimedia piece centring on gulags, which was dourer, and perhaps more thought provoking in a direct way - especially as it was based on more tangibly real history. I am assured by one of the organisers that it will be back bigger and better next year, so keep your eyes peeled on the Storey Institute's various event regurgitation channels. The second thing I saw was a Lancaster-based production of Wind in the Willows. It wouldn't be my first choice usually, but I went because someone I know was in the cast, and he did a great job in about five different roles (I'd struggle with one! Blimey!). It seems Lancaster Grand Theatre's visions get bigger and bolder, and yet they realise them with aplomb - the limits of the stage are stretched to fit in all the characters and props, and all the singing and dancing is tight and well-realised. Fantastic.
Speaking of screen and stage (look back at the last two paragraphs...), I'm still thankful and excited that all of Lewis' hard work over at LBP Productions has resulted in the wonderful The Way to a Man's Heart - a deliciously dark short film based on a short story I wrote of the same name. Check it out, you won't regret it! I don't think so, anyway... I mean, you might, but [okay, okay, that's enough of that... - Ed.] And as for the stage bit, a good friend of mine in Morecambe - Jim Lupton - and myself worked on a script a month or so ago for a local Christmas panto. It's the folks at Alt-Space that're producing the play, with the help of the West End players. It was a fun writing process - we focused on different elements (such as plot and dialogue) that complimented each other, and also worked together on some of the elements (such as jokes), had lots of laughs between us, and reached a first draft quickly. It was the first time I've worked with Jim on anything other than pub banter haha, and we want more. Fingers crossed we get our wish, and make a big difference with our words in the near future.
 |
| Pantomime flier, courtesy of Alt-Space. Come and watch it, if you're free! |
Speaking of pillars, deserving of his own paragraph here is Robert Sheppard. His Drayton's Idea sonnet translations - that I have been enjoying immensely on Pages - have come to an end (oh no!), due to Brexit's depressingly slow - and ominous - roll. He has extended the project (oh yay!) using Drayton work from Idea's Mirror, which is a boon to those who lap it up like me. The guy is just unfathomably clever. The concept alone is genius, but to be that erudite, to contain imagery, humour, but also work density into his language as well as he does... It is first of all witty and entertaining, but as valid a political document as you could want also. It amazes and inspires me, and I've not this way about someone's swift, deft, and staminous [are you talking about the quality of having great stamina? Because 'staminous' ain't that... - Ed.] efforts since Tim Allen's 'Not National Poetry Day' project. I would love both of these projects to be published in full. It makes me feel good about life to experience work by people who are so on top of the game - sharp, irreverent, ludic etc - but have all the technical ability you could imagine to back it all up and help it hang together.
I feel like I should give Ian Seed his own paragraph now (it's been a long time coming, to be fair). Sorry, I'm being silly now... Anyway - I read Distances by Ian Seed recently, and enjoyed that a lot. I am not an expert on prose poetry, and couldn't really define it, except that I feel comfortable basking in Seed's living scenes. I think this prose poetry is where action meets an image/scene and produces a sense of being close to a life lesson, or a cosmic message. It's like an aphorism in motion, but when I say that, it falls so short of Seed's wonderfully comic eye (as it were). I mean, he portrays the humour (sort of dark humour, but not dark dark. Maybe shades of grey, like the lack of obvious right and wrong in the world his characters inhabit - there's no clear way, there's just being, and trying, and a sort of resolution in failure) in a situation, in the people's proximity to achieving their intentions, but someone or something falls short. They are like jokes in set-up, too, (like, their framing) so maybe that's where the poetic element comes in, because the way the form and content play is not 'prosaic' - or standardly prosaic, anyway. I have got no idea what I'm saying. Unintentionally. This is not a joke [don't we know it... - Ed.]. Help! Can I just repeat that I really enjoyed Distances? The scenes were very vibrant, and there were many images I can recall even now, but more than this was the breath blown into the players, and I can't rid myself of the 'cosmic cringe' I felt, feeling sorry for these characters and the gaffes they cause/are embroiled in, but knowing that it could not have been elsewise. Oh damnit, I'm rambling again. One of my favourite lines was [bus thing. Loss]. This was from Red Ceilings, and, also from them, I am looking forward to reading my copy of Sheppard's Micro Event Space. He has been, as usual, very generous in publishing related materials on Pages, and in reading them, I have made my appetite keen.
Riiiiiiiiiight.. That's surely more than enough for one post? But, as I said, I'm not going to polish it. This is it. Deal with it. Please.
What are you up to, anyway?
Peace, love, and light :)
Five Paths to Happiness (as they appeared in our group conversation)
- Be active
- Keep learning
- Help others
- Take notice
- Connect
Tuesday, 6 August 2019
A Right Ol' Catch-Up
It's been that long since I posted anything, that a lot of you - especially my enemies at home and abroad - may be thinking/hoping that I've died. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I've not. I'm still very much here, and still kicking up stinks.
I've been very busy with work, family matters, and self-abuse. In-between this trio of fantastic pursuits (especially fantastic for the 18-30 demographic, according to Fantastic Pursuits for People Aged Eighteen to Thirty Weekly), I have been lucky enough to do some illuminating things what I enjoy. The main thing what I've enjoyed is the third Morecambe Fringe Festival, which ran from the 4th July to the 20th, and already seems like it was months ago... I managed to see four shows, and the quality was high, as always.
The first one I saw was my good pal Jim Lupton, and June Metcalfe, who are part of the 'West End Players'. I'm so happy for Jim, who expanded on his work at the last 'Scratch Festival' in Morecambe - a series of spoken word pieces. He'd put so much effort in to remember lots of material, and one of his newest characters - the Cooler King - involved a lot of dramatic acting, which he really sold. He made us laugh, cogitate, and cry, with his tales and poetry centring on the theme of solitude. I can't wait to see what he gets up to next. June was fantastic, also, performing some of Alan Bennett's 'Talking Heads' monologues with real flair. I was genuinely laughing out loud, and, as a comedy snob, that's an achievement in itself.
The next one was Dean Tsang, who is a rising star and a half. He's an experimental poet who used a variety of forms and voices to explore the theme of 'awkward questions'. He looked at some genuinely touching personal issues in his work, which I thought was very generous, along with more universal things, and yet there was lots of humorous wit, too, so as an audience member, I felt my emotional muscles were getting a good workout. In the context of the local scene as I know it, it's even more amazing that there's such a bright, innovative, and mature talent. My abiding memory is of one poem where he basically performed multivocally, layering different sentences and sounds over each other (well, that was the effect, at least), a very impressive facet of his performative skill. I was even luckier to get to speak to him afterwards, and chat about his work.
Then I saw Rowan Padmore, whose show was about "bereavement, loss and loneliness in Morecambe." It was a powerful show, and, honestly, I felt depressed afterwards. Not that it was one-dimensional at all - there were laughs aplenty - but the sense of loss was quite relentless and stuck with me afterwards. My imagination was in overdrive - perhaps aided slightly by being set in my home town - with the rich characters, and the driving through-narrative that tied the performance poetry together, which all speaks to Padmore's talent as a writer.
Lastly, I saw the last show - Laura Monmoth's 'Trans Vision Scamp'. I don't know if I've ever mentioned the fact that I'm a comedy snob before, but Laura broke through all of my silly hubris, and I was crying with laughter at points. Being sat at the front, I was picked on a couple of times, but it felt warm, which is key - as Mr Rickles will tell you. I'm not sure what else to say! I don't want to ruin any gags - especially not the multimedia ones - in case you go see her (which you should, given half the chance), but just know that it gets five hilarity stars out of five from me.
I got, and took, the chance to review Dean and Rowan for the Lancashire Evening Post. It was an honour to contribute, alongside a number of other volunteers, and be published with what I'd normally enjoy writing during the Fringe anyway. I think this was part of the reason I didn't review them on Blogtastic before now, as I had used up my reflective impetus somewhat. I'm not sure if I'm able to reproduce the reviews here, but I'm going to assume so, until such time as I am told otherwise :)
More recently (three days ago, in fact), I was lucky enough to take part in doing a bit of setting up the Make My Day festival that the Exchange Creative Community organises and executes annually. I was working through the festival itself, so couldn't attend, but it was lovely meeting up with the other volunteers, having a laugh, getting stuck in and helping out, y'know. With the way my life's going at the mo, it felt like a holiday, and was most replenishing, even though I was knackered afterwards haha. One lovely memory from the day of the festival itself; from my window at work, I saw a family walking down the prom - a parental couple and two children - and the dad was faithfully clutching a pair of wooden dogs that they had crafted at the festival, and I knew that they'd had a lovely day together, with memories that'll last a long time. Look out for it next year, and make sure to keep up with what's happening through their mailing list, or Facebook, or whatever the hell your preference is.
I was going to talk about other things, such as what I've been reading lately, how the writing's going, and whether I've finally set a date for the wedding, but my editor's giving me a look, like, "Oh god, he's at it again... If you have to go on another interminable solipsistic ramble, at least break it up and put it in another post. You do this all the time, writing all these long, drawn-out pieces that, y'know, might be excusable if they were only on a decent topic, or, hey, just written in a fresh, exciting way, like, had an engaging tone. But no. It's like trying to eat your way through so much sawdust - bland, nutritionless, hard work. Could you imagine what he's like outside of work? I bet it's 'me me me'. All. The. Flipping. Time. We should fire this guy. Seriously! I know he's been sneaking out with office supplies. I'm not just talking about a pen here, and a pen there... I caught him last week trying to load one of our photocopiers into his mate's van. He tried to shrug it off with a joke, but that was as pathetic as his blogging: unfunny, poorly-structured, and leaving me questioning why I bother. And would it kill him to put even just a penny into our monthly charity nominations box? How can you not want to help puppy amputees? I won't even go into the whole rant he went on when I questioned him about it, 'charity begins at home, we need to stop giving money to foreigners and take back control'... How he ever landed head writer at Blogtastic, I'll never know..." so I suppose, I'll sign off for now.
Peace, love, and light,
Martin
I've been very busy with work, family matters, and self-abuse. In-between this trio of fantastic pursuits (especially fantastic for the 18-30 demographic, according to Fantastic Pursuits for People Aged Eighteen to Thirty Weekly), I have been lucky enough to do some illuminating things what I enjoy. The main thing what I've enjoyed is the third Morecambe Fringe Festival, which ran from the 4th July to the 20th, and already seems like it was months ago... I managed to see four shows, and the quality was high, as always.
The first one I saw was my good pal Jim Lupton, and June Metcalfe, who are part of the 'West End Players'. I'm so happy for Jim, who expanded on his work at the last 'Scratch Festival' in Morecambe - a series of spoken word pieces. He'd put so much effort in to remember lots of material, and one of his newest characters - the Cooler King - involved a lot of dramatic acting, which he really sold. He made us laugh, cogitate, and cry, with his tales and poetry centring on the theme of solitude. I can't wait to see what he gets up to next. June was fantastic, also, performing some of Alan Bennett's 'Talking Heads' monologues with real flair. I was genuinely laughing out loud, and, as a comedy snob, that's an achievement in itself.
The next one was Dean Tsang, who is a rising star and a half. He's an experimental poet who used a variety of forms and voices to explore the theme of 'awkward questions'. He looked at some genuinely touching personal issues in his work, which I thought was very generous, along with more universal things, and yet there was lots of humorous wit, too, so as an audience member, I felt my emotional muscles were getting a good workout. In the context of the local scene as I know it, it's even more amazing that there's such a bright, innovative, and mature talent. My abiding memory is of one poem where he basically performed multivocally, layering different sentences and sounds over each other (well, that was the effect, at least), a very impressive facet of his performative skill. I was even luckier to get to speak to him afterwards, and chat about his work.
Then I saw Rowan Padmore, whose show was about "bereavement, loss and loneliness in Morecambe." It was a powerful show, and, honestly, I felt depressed afterwards. Not that it was one-dimensional at all - there were laughs aplenty - but the sense of loss was quite relentless and stuck with me afterwards. My imagination was in overdrive - perhaps aided slightly by being set in my home town - with the rich characters, and the driving through-narrative that tied the performance poetry together, which all speaks to Padmore's talent as a writer.
Lastly, I saw the last show - Laura Monmoth's 'Trans Vision Scamp'. I don't know if I've ever mentioned the fact that I'm a comedy snob before, but Laura broke through all of my silly hubris, and I was crying with laughter at points. Being sat at the front, I was picked on a couple of times, but it felt warm, which is key - as Mr Rickles will tell you. I'm not sure what else to say! I don't want to ruin any gags - especially not the multimedia ones - in case you go see her (which you should, given half the chance), but just know that it gets five hilarity stars out of five from me.
I got, and took, the chance to review Dean and Rowan for the Lancashire Evening Post. It was an honour to contribute, alongside a number of other volunteers, and be published with what I'd normally enjoy writing during the Fringe anyway. I think this was part of the reason I didn't review them on Blogtastic before now, as I had used up my reflective impetus somewhat. I'm not sure if I'm able to reproduce the reviews here, but I'm going to assume so, until such time as I am told otherwise :)
More recently (three days ago, in fact), I was lucky enough to take part in doing a bit of setting up the Make My Day festival that the Exchange Creative Community organises and executes annually. I was working through the festival itself, so couldn't attend, but it was lovely meeting up with the other volunteers, having a laugh, getting stuck in and helping out, y'know. With the way my life's going at the mo, it felt like a holiday, and was most replenishing, even though I was knackered afterwards haha. One lovely memory from the day of the festival itself; from my window at work, I saw a family walking down the prom - a parental couple and two children - and the dad was faithfully clutching a pair of wooden dogs that they had crafted at the festival, and I knew that they'd had a lovely day together, with memories that'll last a long time. Look out for it next year, and make sure to keep up with what's happening through their mailing list, or Facebook, or whatever the hell your preference is.
I was going to talk about other things, such as what I've been reading lately, how the writing's going, and whether I've finally set a date for the wedding, but my editor's giving me a look, like, "Oh god, he's at it again... If you have to go on another interminable solipsistic ramble, at least break it up and put it in another post. You do this all the time, writing all these long, drawn-out pieces that, y'know, might be excusable if they were only on a decent topic, or, hey, just written in a fresh, exciting way, like, had an engaging tone. But no. It's like trying to eat your way through so much sawdust - bland, nutritionless, hard work. Could you imagine what he's like outside of work? I bet it's 'me me me'. All. The. Flipping. Time. We should fire this guy. Seriously! I know he's been sneaking out with office supplies. I'm not just talking about a pen here, and a pen there... I caught him last week trying to load one of our photocopiers into his mate's van. He tried to shrug it off with a joke, but that was as pathetic as his blogging: unfunny, poorly-structured, and leaving me questioning why I bother. And would it kill him to put even just a penny into our monthly charity nominations box? How can you not want to help puppy amputees? I won't even go into the whole rant he went on when I questioned him about it, 'charity begins at home, we need to stop giving money to foreigners and take back control'... How he ever landed head writer at Blogtastic, I'll never know..." so I suppose, I'll sign off for now.
Peace, love, and light,
Martin
 |
| From The Lancashire Evening Post. |
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| From The Lancashire Evening Post, also. |
Tuesday, 19 March 2019
Through the Haze
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| Side one of a locally-distributed Scratch Fest flyer. |
There's some pretty cool stuff going on in Morecambe at the mo, at Alt-Space’s 'Scratch-Fest', a festival aiming to air acts and give them feedback before the upcoming Edinburgh Fringe. It's always hard to talk about this kind of thing, because the diversity of a festival of this nature is hard to encapsulate neatly, but hey, here goes.
The first thing I saw - and one of the stand-outs so far - was a stylophone-based musicomedy performance, with self-deprecation and 'off the wall' jumps from image to pun. It’s one the best acts I've seen since Stuart Lee, and you should check out 'Stylophobia With Dan Rubinstein' on Facebook for his upcoming gigs. I found a lot of it was funny because it wasn't all that funny - "corny" is a word Dan used himself, which is a very apt one for me - and the intentional lack of slickness is part of not just the charm, but also the element of surprise, that, for me, made his jokes burn brighter.
On another night, though, we've had a journey through Richard Pulsford's research into his family's military history in 'Conflict of Interest'. I thought, because he was introduced as a comedian, that the presentation he was giving was going to be an elaborate ruse for a whole heap of humour. In the end, it was a 'straight' account of said history and, whereas not my 'usual cup of tea', it was still a pleasure to be able to attend, to see someone's work made reality, and to learn.
There was, of all things, a delightful nun - Sister Christian - who was captivating in her fascination with balls and juggling them, who peppered her performance with double-entendres. It amused me and made me feel very carefree. We had a chap (who I can't find on Facebook - sorry!) perform a scene from his Michael Jackson and Prince show (did you know they were both born in the same year?). They're two artists I'm not overly fond of, but the possibilities of his act - exploring the lives of two such eccentric superstars - are undeniably fascinating (and he's playing both of them, as I understand it). Also, we were treated to some proper magic by local legend Kevin Cunliffe - who I've always found to be a warm guy, generous with his time y'know, just because he's a star, doesn't mean to say he doesn't have time to chat, which is groovy. He kept the audience gasping in surprise, even the sceptics amongst us. We also had a more politically-focused poet, who, despite rhyming, made some good points, and made them in interesting ways. His name escapes me, as he replaced someone else on the roster, but, well, just be on the lookout for any poetry in your area, and maybe he’ll be there? Who knows…
I've talked before about the privilege it is to be able to go to poetry readings - and this festival is very similar. It’s not just being in an environment where works are more ‘in progress’ than you might see in, say, a big arena, but also to get to talk to the artists afterwards is great. I had a good few words with Richard after his show about the process of him putting his presentation together, and he was very generous in chatting to me - especially as I’m just this randomer with a can of lager and healthy disrespect for personal boundaries.
To have time with them away from the stage (i.e. in the pub) is always fascinating, too. I often consider it my duty to buy these heroes of the stage a drink (a personal thank you for their efforts), and often we have a chat about their act. In Dan's case, we spoke comedic aesthetics, and the possibilities of punnery, as well as how lucky we felt to have him, and how lucky he felt to have such a space (outside his usual London) to take his work. In Kev's case, we spoke a bit about his career (punctuated by more 'tricks' of his).
The first thing I saw - and one of the stand-outs so far - was a stylophone-based musicomedy performance, with self-deprecation and 'off the wall' jumps from image to pun. It’s one the best acts I've seen since Stuart Lee, and you should check out 'Stylophobia With Dan Rubinstein' on Facebook for his upcoming gigs. I found a lot of it was funny because it wasn't all that funny - "corny" is a word Dan used himself, which is a very apt one for me - and the intentional lack of slickness is part of not just the charm, but also the element of surprise, that, for me, made his jokes burn brighter.
On another night, though, we've had a journey through Richard Pulsford's research into his family's military history in 'Conflict of Interest'. I thought, because he was introduced as a comedian, that the presentation he was giving was going to be an elaborate ruse for a whole heap of humour. In the end, it was a 'straight' account of said history and, whereas not my 'usual cup of tea', it was still a pleasure to be able to attend, to see someone's work made reality, and to learn.
There was, of all things, a delightful nun - Sister Christian - who was captivating in her fascination with balls and juggling them, who peppered her performance with double-entendres. It amused me and made me feel very carefree. We had a chap (who I can't find on Facebook - sorry!) perform a scene from his Michael Jackson and Prince show (did you know they were both born in the same year?). They're two artists I'm not overly fond of, but the possibilities of his act - exploring the lives of two such eccentric superstars - are undeniably fascinating (and he's playing both of them, as I understand it). Also, we were treated to some proper magic by local legend Kevin Cunliffe - who I've always found to be a warm guy, generous with his time y'know, just because he's a star, doesn't mean to say he doesn't have time to chat, which is groovy. He kept the audience gasping in surprise, even the sceptics amongst us. We also had a more politically-focused poet, who, despite rhyming, made some good points, and made them in interesting ways. His name escapes me, as he replaced someone else on the roster, but, well, just be on the lookout for any poetry in your area, and maybe he’ll be there? Who knows…
I've talked before about the privilege it is to be able to go to poetry readings - and this festival is very similar. It’s not just being in an environment where works are more ‘in progress’ than you might see in, say, a big arena, but also to get to talk to the artists afterwards is great. I had a good few words with Richard after his show about the process of him putting his presentation together, and he was very generous in chatting to me - especially as I’m just this randomer with a can of lager and healthy disrespect for personal boundaries.
To have time with them away from the stage (i.e. in the pub) is always fascinating, too. I often consider it my duty to buy these heroes of the stage a drink (a personal thank you for their efforts), and often we have a chat about their act. In Dan's case, we spoke comedic aesthetics, and the possibilities of punnery, as well as how lucky we felt to have him, and how lucky he felt to have such a space (outside his usual London) to take his work. In Kev's case, we spoke a bit about his career (punctuated by more 'tricks' of his).
I've also been lucky to spend quite a bit of time with Walter DeForest, creator and embodier of the fantastic and internationally-renowned 'Van Gogh Find Yourself'. Whereas last time I spoke to him more about his act, this time it was thrilling to just ramble about any old anecdotes, share in cheeky puerile humour, and some of the Sportz Banter (TM). Other members of our fair Morecumbrian society were talking about CBD-soaked (literally) times, and, although the oils weren't flowing in reality, the intoxication was caused by these crazy, switched-on, rule-makers and -breakers, the inspirers and questioners of our time and place. It's a massive boon that there are suddenly places now in my home town that cater for us misfits, thanks to Matt Panesh and his team. It's just wonderful to be mixed with all these idea-mongers and talent-spinners, talking across genres and experience levels.
And this festival's only just beginning, y'know. My good friend Jim will be performing later today, and there’s more through the week. I could do with knocking [some... most...] of the drinking I previously alluded to on the head, but, I must admit, alcohol is an easy lubricant that gets some of the big-energy ideas dripping out the holes in our brainsponge. It is through this haze that I've largely been looking lately - and the things I have seen, my friend... Oh, the things I have seen...
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| Side two, detailing the acts. |
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