Tag Archives: art

Read-along-Review: Howl by Allen Ginsburg

Part I

Punctuation is a thing for a reason Allen.

“illuminating all the motionless world of Time between”

“who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade,”

“who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,”

This is poetry of the senses, plural specific. Your intellect is appealed to, as is your emotion, but as too are your senses, your very body – not just with the sights and sounds and feelings described but the way that they are written, the alliteration and deliberate word choice, the run on of sentences so perfectly sculpted around voice and tone and emotion, and breath. That’s the important bit, it forces your whole body to join in with the poem, not just your heart and mind.

“who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soul between 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus”

I love the obsession with time, as I would anywhere else, is play with it though, particularly eccentric and graphic, is inspiring. Also, the personification of various concepts done expertly.

II

Metropolis is apparently created by Ginsberg as an inspiration for this section, inc. Meloch, a fantastic film and well worth a watch, even with breaks – it feels like eternity as it’s a silent b&w film.

Definitely nowhere near as good as Part I

III

 “where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses”

Footnote to Howl

Yeah, nope, none of the rest of this is as astoundingly brilliant as Part I

 

Ft. image a quick sketch I did inspired by this piece, I will return to it another day

Fragment.wp #3

Ever feel like an outsider in your own skin,
Like everything around you has a way of crawling in,
And ripping from your flesh, pulling thread from bone,
Hollows out your heart, and builds itself a home?

Quick: Something that was totally not supposed to be my next post

So, tweeting, a lot (William Shatner has replied to me twice, Timothy Omundson and Brad Barker have liked 2 tweets each, had a convo with David Slack, and a discussion over NYT’s lexis choice with Yogscast Hannah/Lomadia; #actuallyspeechless) and suddenly up on my feed pops a Polygon link to a Final Fantasy 7: Oral History.

Now, I have no interest in FF, never have, never even knew they existed till 2/3years ago so I’ve never played any, at all. But the featured pic grabbed me:

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This is, according to my very quick research, a conceptual sketch for FF7 by Yoshitaka Amano, artist for many of the FF games among other work such as the absolutely exquisite The Sandman: Dream Hunters, by Neil Gaiman, currently occupying a prime position on my bookshelves, and in my heart.

As soon as I saw this though, I could think of nothing but Chris Riddell’s wonderful illustration for Gaiman’s The Sleeper and the Spindle, a take upon the good old Snow White, and Sleeping Beauty.. ish. What struck me was the similarity to the same bed scene in this later book, though heaven forbid I actually be able to find a pic of it online now to compare against! And no, to my shame, I haven’t actually bought it yet. Here is a similar picture that if I’m right, occurs just after the page I’m thinking of:

the_sleeper_and_the_spindle_2

It is possible that I am completely misrembering from my quick scan through at Waterstones, when I decided to come back and buy it later, (I will update this post when I have actually bought it) buuuuuut, I am so very interested to know, if I’m correct, why this stylistic choice was made. Knowing nothing of FF7 I can only guess at it’s possible implications, and as I can find nothing anywhere comparing them- I’m stuck.

Worry-Doll

Crystal glass terrarium,
soft, smooth, glide, prove.

Inside, a male & female pair,
Dolls with whom this glass cave I share.

Performing for them everyday, ironic,
Encouraging breaking, reaching out.

And on my knees, head bowed I pray,
Learning whatever lesson it is today.

Punching, punching hard, on glass walls.
Punching my way out, for them.

Breaking free like shadow out of sun,
Like sun out of clouds, rushing air out of glass.

Shock wave force from out my heart,
Shatters the smooth glass cage I’m in.

That air, once trapped, now free,
Out I go flying, singing, “Follow me.”

Out I go, like kite in air,
but no string to reel me back again.

There, they sit and stare. Achieved
what they said, not wanted.

Aim and aspiration as lines to stay inside,
As safe space, not pathway to another place.

Crumble inwards little pair, separate and fall.
No longer are those walls so safe,

Nor comforting to little minds, I’m sure.
Come fly, fly free, but do not follow me.

Never-ending little space fractured by the power,
that you nurtured (unknowing, unwanted) in me.

This was not what you expected, for me,
To rise to such heights as to finally be free,

And wanted, and strong, and, well, me.
But in you go, and in you stay,

So crumple, little worry-dolls,
And no more think of me.

 

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Mezzanine

Warm hand upon my back,
As beneath my arms,
Upon which my head rests,
The emery board granite sits,
Sprayed, as I, by gusts of sea,
Mingled, lost, in the tears upon my face.

Pretty bird, small, hops on,
White painted panels,
Of a holiday shack,
By our promenade.
Light blue surrounds my bird;
Towels and flags, deck chair fabric.
Hopping little creature,
In a sea of its own.

Hide and seek played in,
Great woods of pine,
and bracken. Tall, and gone.
We never meant for it to end.
An endless time, joyful,
Spent together in love.

Crashing, cliche, but true,
Breakers crash on the wall.
Shore submerged, sinking,
and suffocated below.
Else the wind gusts, no respite,
Cold, but needed.

Held in but one hand,
I squeezed and squeezed,
Pressing nails into skin,
Leaving marks upon palm,
That would die off only hours later.
The bird died quicker.

Blue tit, great tit, wagtail,
I can’t decide.
Whichever one, it was not wise,
For now, I have nothing left,
But memories of those shifting sands,
And lies.

 

 

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GIMP, why won’t you love me?!

I.e. the free crowdsource image editing software.

*sighs* I try, you know? This is the first step in the whole “create” thing that I got going; putting my designs out there, seeing what happens, caz I have tons and they aren’t going anywhere right now.

LOVE visually designing things, one of my faves being music videos. I cannot listen to a song (except jazz) without making a design in my head for either stage performance of it or a filmed music video. I have years of designs of sets, choreography, costume designs, all hoarded in a file of loose papers of things that will probably never be made. And that’s a shame. So I’m going to try and make them, hopefully. And I’m going to try and create, like I’ve said. Problem is, most of them are quite ambitious, will need tools, knowhow and monies to actually create, so I’m starting with drawing them to a more recognizable standard. And writing them so that people will see them.

The accolade of first attempted goes to The Apple, it needs a real title. Effectively it is the Apple logo made true, made out of gold wire, about the height of your thigh in full rounded 3d mode, gaps between the wire as it bends to shape it – much like a cage. Out of the side is the iconic bite, made with a depression in the wire form that bends inwards, the rim of the depression soft, not sharp, as the wire changes direction. A stalk arises from the centre top, woven together from computer wires, the ones with multiple coloured wires, mainly green and red, the top of the stalk being the plugs at the end of them. Inside the wire Apple itself is a girl, barely able to fit inside, hunched over, her body following the curves of the wire as they wrap around her. The wire stalk reaches down, to inside, and ends at her stomach like an umbilical cord. Eyes open, she stares out blankly, seeing not watching, living not being.

That’s what I want to create. The girl would most likely be some form of flat cardboard, cut to fit inside the Apple. HW I’ve not had much practice at drawing on computers so my first try has not come out too well. I may see if I can get a hold of some wire and make it in miniature.

whyappl-copy