BitchBuzz and Over the Edge

I'm fighting off a cold that seemed to ride my coattails from London but if I'm feeling not too bad, I plan to head off to Over the Edge's reading tonight at the library (where I am now mayor :-) and perhaps try out a new piece at the open mic if there's room. A rather silly piece, but one I'm already fond of and having run it by a couple of people, I'd love to hear how it goes over with a crowd.

My column nearly didn't happen this week: I tried a couple of different things and nothing jelled (maybe it was coming down with this cold -- can't remember the last time I was sick!). So I emailed my editor to admit defeat and voilá! She had something for me to write up. Looks like a fun event:

Put the Kink in Your Ink at Eroticon 2012

By K. A. Laity

One of the undeniable effects of the ebook revolution is the explosion of erotica and erotic romance particularly for female readers. Freed from the dead giveaway of the saucy cover, women now fill up their Kindles and mobile devices with a glorious variety of fun smut and sexy takes. It's about time someone got some of the practitioners of this writing genre together.

Eroticon 2012 will be the UK’s first sex bloggers and erotica writers conference and will take place on March 3rd next year. Over 100 sex bloggers and erotica writers will meet in Bristol for a unique conference.  Eroticon is the UK’s first conference aimed exclusively at sex bloggers and erotica writers and has a schedule crammed full of great sessions and speakers.

The conference is the brainchild of erotic author Ruby Kiddell, who says:

"The idea for Eroticon came about having attended the Cybermummy conference where I was sponsored through my erotic writing site.  There were other sex bloggers there and I knew that we held back in discussing the content of our blogs in such a general atmosphere and so I conceived Eroticon, a blogging conference exclusively for those writing about sex online..."

Read the rest over at BBHQ!

More Moore but Not Ruthlessly So

Saturday kicked off another trip to the Big Smoke with the aim of seeing Mr Moore and his compatriots re-imagine a journey through the English. Apropos, non? We took the train into Liverpool Street station and then stopped at Hamilton Hall for a pint and lunch with Ruth. I love burgers with slabs of real bacon on top! Even better to enjoy them in the opulence of an old hotel ballroom. Mr Murphy headed off for the finer establishments of Whitechapel, while Ruth and I headed toward the Tate Mod.

We stopped at St. Paul's on the way, to see how the Occupy London folks were doing. Wonderful to see so many exhortations to social justice and reminders that this was a peaceful protest (regardless of what the Oakland police might think). Glad to see the scaffolding around the church gone, but somehow wonderful to see all the tents and the people speaking from the steps with power and conviction. St. Paul's was built upon a temple of Diana, so no surprise the hunter goddess inspires the urge to fight back.

We had fun watching the Tacita Dean film piece in the turbine hall at the Tate Modern, even more so watching the people watch it. One kid tried to leap over the waves, another tried to capture the falling bubbles. We headed up to the Rothkos -- my weakness! Fortunately, Ruth is also fond of them. We sat for quite a time in that quiet place chatting. Ruth is a fascinating woman who's lived in France for some years though now based in London for a time. She repairs vintage fans -- what a rare skill! She's also designing scarves and does botanical painting. I'm always in awe of people who can do tangible things (like the rest of my family). I'm all thumbs.

We headed up to the Barbican in a cool clear London eve. I was really lucky with weather, bringing the sunshine with me, of course! Disappointing to find that there was a pre-concert talk we missed and that Shirley Collins was ill and wouldn't be performing, but the show made up for those minor sighs. Front row seats! How to describe it all? JB Priestly's English Journey mashed up with "Northamptonshire Peasant Poet" John Clare's own journey from the asylum in Essex to his home, thinking he was going to meet his dead first love, and the paintings of Turner and Martin. Sinclair looking like a librarian (to me anyway :-) reading from his own works of travel and place, Alan -- in his peacock blue long coat with sparkly paisleys and those spotted shoes, looking elegant -- reading from Voice of the Fire as well as Clare's own works with his usual arresting delivery. The video pieces set the scene, from London to Newcastle, where poet Tom Pickard brought the audience in the second half. The music -- both live and recorded -- featured Susan Stenger on flute and samples, Steve Tyler on hurdy-gurdy, Andy May on border pipes (which looked like Uilleann pipes) and the amazing FM Einheit on percussion.

You know what a sucker I am for percussion (Evelyn Glennie rocks!) but Einheit was a madman! Tapping and pounding on a big sheet of steel, later hammering and drilling on it too as well as throwing buckets of pebbles (I got hit by one :-) and then breaking cement blocks on it, too, with the hammer and then with the bits of block. Wonderful! He also played upon a huge steel coil. I loved it.  He also had great hair and an amazing profile. Magnificent show. Very pleased.

Sunday was more leisurely: up early to watch the All Blacks win the Rugby World Cup. Love the Haka! Watched the Bukowski doco, Born into This, then I was allowed to visit Murphy's local where Americans were rare. They seemed to think I was all right for a Yank. Later we watched The Guard which many people have recommended to me which was fun. The Monday morning flight was a bit too early, but that's the jet-setter life, eh?

Hard to believe it's nearly Halloween...

London with Four Essex Lads, Alan Moore, and Ruth

Because no one would want to travel ruthlessly, surely: I zipped off to London this weekend because I could. Is there any better reason? Well, I suppose fun and a couple of Alan Moore performances were also a good reason. I got in rather late, so Friday also got a late start but my pal Murphy and I kicked things off with a good English breakfast in Essex before meeting up with his mates in the pub, three of whom came to London with us to see the performance at the Horse Hospital.

It's a fascinating venue with an interesting history and provided a great space for an unusual performance. After a visit to the pub next door, The Friend at Hand, the guys were just happy there was a bar (although the ringing sound of empty bottles on concrete punctuated a few moments awkwardly). The opening act was the Scots singer MacGillivray. I'm not sure I'd envy anyone who had to share a bill with Moore, but it was a challenge to get into the mannered performance of overly earnest aggressively retro sensibilities. She announced after the first song it was for a wee child who died in 1842; while the Essex men may have led the giggles, they were not alone. It's the kind of thing that Dame Darcy and Rasputina do quite successfully with humour as well as a sense of the macabre. It probably didn't help that there were a number of rolling beer bottles as she sang about stoning mermaids, "wolf waters" and "steaming the eyes of hope."

Alan came out with his usual aplomb and fancy black & white spotted shoes. He introduced the reading by saying we seemed too nice a group to hear it cold, so he spoke a little about Jerusalem and its unbridled growth, now "bigger than the bible and, I hope, better" before turning to the chapter he would be reading from which had to do with angels, or as they were known in the novel, "builders" (a more neutral term). In part his depiction of the archangel Michael came from the image of the archangel atop the Northampton church bearing his name, which Moore says carries a snooker cue. He introduced his ideas about the afterlife, dismissing the typical depiction of heaven. "All that marble," Moore said, cocking an eyebrow at the audience, "It's a bit middle class." Instead he posited the idea that our lives repeat without our knowledge, taking us back to our happinesses over and over, "So, hello again."

The reading held the audience spellbound, rushing from onomatopoeic whoomphs to the builders' ambivalence about their charges and the nature of the all-encompassing holy perspective. Good stuff: I can't wait to read the novel -- well, when he finally decides it's done. The audience responded with laughter and close attention and sent him off with enthusiastic applause. While coming out of the loo afterward, I heard my name and turned to find Ruth, a fellow member of the Kraken, the Russell Hoban gang. She had seen my post on Facebook about the event and decided it sounded fun. She recognised me from my picture :-) I asked her to join us, then peeked around the corner to see if I could chat with Alan. Fortunately he was still there, so we had a chat and I mentioned finally meeting Pádraig last weekend as well as the Marvelman-like curse on his Marvelman book: Alan joked that maybe he should write a book about Pádraig's book and create a kind of infinite repeating loop. I mentioned I'd be seeing him the next night at the Barbican. Yes, got a hug and a kiss, too.

Ruth joined us and we all headed out for a tasty Indian meal then dropped by the Bree Louise for a pint before they closed. Then we hopped the last train back to Harlow, another late night. I'll have to write up the second day a bit later as this has grown long: more Moore, Occupy London at St. Paul's (the photo above from the old UK phone so poor quality), Rothko and Ruth. Anon!

Fiction Slamming and Finally Meeting Pádraig

I ambled off to Octocon on Saturday after a good night out on Friday, where I had attended the 3rd Annual Fiction Slam put on by the local lit organisation, Over the Edge. I had no idea quite how it would go, but it was more or less like a poetry slam: that is, a short time to read with a focus on performance, and of course, competition. Among the judges was the multi-talented Emer Martin, who read a bit from her latest novel between the two rounds; a really engaging performer herself.

After hemming and hawing a bit, I decided to try to sign up to read and took "Rothko Red" and "Wixey" with me. There was a good crowd at the museum; Galway really is a writers' mecca. I got chatting with Rachel Coventry, a local writer who read from her short story about a man who finds himself disappearing. All the stories were good: this is significant, as I've seldom been to a reading that did not have at least a few clunkers. I read "Wixey" first and was gratified to get some laughs; in fact I made it into the final three, much to my surprise. Rather good for my first time reading in Galway. The bottle of wine went to the young woman who read from her "memoir by a rabbit" which was a real hoot, and who will also be performing at the Galway Comedy Festival (sob! both Dylan Moran and Tim Minchin's performances are long sold out).

I had an early train to Dublin, but as I live across the square from the station, I didn't have to get up too early and once on the train, I fell asleep not long after seeing a deer running across a field (deer? yes!) and woke up at Heuston. I caught a cab to the hotel, checked in and then went  down to registration. Gareth at reg immediately led me to Pádraig. Great to finally meet after knowing each other on line for so long. We had a chance to chat and to introduce me to Deirdre, his wife, before the panel he was on about meeting your heroes. Deirdre and I sat in the back and murmured various comments, including discussing whether it was worth laying money on the odds of any female names coming up in their adulations. Of course not: I did ask the question at the end, and I was struck by how the conversation immediately moved to crushes and fancying, including how attractive Tanith Lee is 'despite her age' you know.

Ahem.

This discussion led rather neatly into the women in genre/is it necessary? panel later, which drafted James Bacon at the last minute so that it wasn't an all-female panel. The discussion went very well for the most part, keeping a focus on practical solutions and dispassionate identification of the mechanisms that keep labeling women as "other" rather than simply as people. There were a number of encouraging comments aimed at organisers to move beyond the default position of simply relying on the same old (usually male) friends and to actively encourage women to participate, as well as for women to overcome that reluctance and self-effacing behaviour that dooms them to non-representation. It takes a concerted effort on many parts to overcome these structural problems. And then of course, the last question to the panel came from a guy who said, "But it's true that women mostly write about relationships and I just like action stories." Sigh. Enough to make you want to strangle someone.

 The rest of the time I spent mostly chatting with Pádraig and Deirdre and the other folks they introduced me to; I don't usually go to cons unless I have something to do or know lots of people, so it was a relief that I had someone to hang out with. I met lots of terrific folks and I look forward to seeing many at P-Con in March (where I get to play "The Professor").

Lumottu (Enchanted)

Tonight my play LUMOTTU will get a reading at the Arts Society of Kingston's Playwrights' Lab New Play Readings at 6:30 PM

ARTS SOCIETY OF KINGSTON
97 Broadway
Kingston NY 12401


Arja lives with one foot in this world and the other in the mythic world of ancient Finland. Her family has moved to the new world, but the old world’s magic clings to their lives — and deaths.

Yes, it is utter madness to schedule it now; it was originally scheduled for the end of May when I decided I was much too busy with teaching and getting ready to go to England to do a reading as well (as I have to be director/producer).

>_<

Well, you know; if my life weren't utter madness, how would I know it was my life? With luck I've got Kipper sorted, the flood waters have receded enough for me to get to the storage facility (yes, really) and I can enjoy the performance for what it is (a chance to hear what the play sounds like outside my head) without being consumed by anxiety and madness.

With further luck, news on an ebook version of Unikirja soon, too!

Come to Kingston, mon, if you can and if not, wish me luck or more boxes or a safe passage. Or just buy one of my books (and while you're at it, leave me a review! That's even more essential whether it's Amazon, B&N, Goodreads or Library Thing).

Publication: Finnish Charms

I had nearly forgotten about this: the Mythic Journeys folks have been going through some interesting transitions (which seems entirely appropriate) but the journal is back at last. I gave this paper at the Forging Folklore Conference at Harvard University in May 3-5 2007. Great conference! Peg and Hannah put together a terrific bunch of presenters including Ron Hutton (whom I teased about Kyrie whose voice always accompanied him on Historyonics), my mentors Steve Mitchell and Joe Harris, and the fabulous Byron, whom I met for the first time there. Before I gave the paper, I played the kantele and sang. Yes, me -- singing. I wasn't sure I'd do it until I opened my mouth. Good to do things that terrify you now and then. Love the image they chose.

Finnish Charms:
Appropriating Folk Magic from
the Kalevala and Kanteletar

By K.A. Laity

Kylä vuotti uutta kuuta,
miero päivän nousendoa.
Miepä vuotin minjoavani,
miepä vuotin minjovani.

The village waited for the new moon.
They said my brother would return
empty handed when he was off hunting.
They were wrong. The eagle caught the duck.

Värttinä, “Kylä vuotti uutta kuuta”

Truly they lie, they

Talk utter nonsense
Who say that music
Reckon that the kantele
was carved by Väinämöinen…
out of  a great pike’s shoulders…
no, music was made from grief
molded from sorrow…
so my kantele will not
play, will not rejoice at all…
for it was fashioned from cares
moulded from sorrow.                                               

My Kantele, Kanteletar 1:1

One of the least well known of modern reconstructions of folk magic must certainly be the realm of Baltic magic found in the ancient texts of Finland, but it has found a perhaps surprising popular resurgence in  recent years. The reprinting of Kati Koppana’s Snakefat and Knotted Threads has brought a handbook of folk magic to a new generation of reconstructionists, but the nineteenth-century collections The Kalevala and The Kanteletar continue to provide a rich supply of magical practices.  While originally the outgrowth of a rising sense of nationalism in nineteenth-century Finland, the two collections of myth and folklore also record a number of magical charms that give some insight into the ancient practices of the Finns, since lost in the (relatively) late conversion to Christianity and the long-practiced denigration of the indigenous tongues particularly by Swedish and then Russian political control...[read the rest and check out Anya's essay on Egypt, too]

BitchBuzz: Sarah Angliss/Spacedog

Looking forward to catching some of these performances in London: I find her work absolutely fascinating.

Sarah Angliss and "Spacedog"

By K.A. Laity

Musician, engineer, writer Sarah Angliss has embarked on a round of performances under the aegis of Spacedog. Her unique combination of nerdy science knowledge, inspired music and automata brings together technology, history and the spirits of the dead, including the titular dog, Laika the canine cosmonaut.

I think I first came across her work while researching puppetry. Her essay on the "Uncanny Valley" led me to exploring the fascinating compositions and videos she has created. Angliss characterises her work as a heady mix of unexpected elements:

Trained in electroacoustics, music and robotics, I specialise in creating original sound installations, exhibits and live performances that mix cutting-edge technology with curious or vintage sound equipment and little known stories from the history of science. I’m particularly interested in creating sonic art that enables people to generate or manipulate sound using novel physical elements (e.g. robots; motion sensors). Whenever possible, I try to avoid compositions that generate music entirely through software – I find algorithmic music is richer and more delightful when it’s coupled to the real world in some meaningful way...

Read the rest: http://culture.bitchbuzz.com/sarah-angliss-and-spacedog.html#ixzz1Mo7LSS3a

Today's film in the horror class: the original Night of the Living Dead, which means I need to explain the 60s -- mostly that it wasn't all hippies and the Grateful Dead which seems to be the association my students usually make with the time period.

Con-Eire: Now Available as an Ebook

Con-Eire: a comedy for voices

Download: $1.83

"RADIO PLAY" SCRIPT is ideal for live performances at cons!

It’s three days before the start of CON-EIRE, the best Irish-themed science fiction and fantasy con in the tri-state area, when a phone call sets the entire Convention Committee into panic mode. Is Big Name Writer going to pull out at the last minute? What does Very Famous Artist have to do with that decision? And what do the Fairies have to say about all this? Follow the hilarious mishaps as the committee members work desperately to salvage months of planning and hard work, all of which are about to be undone by a well-known prima donna.

You can also "like" the page to share with friends on Facebook or pass it along on Twitter, Reddit, Digg or even (gasp!) MySpace. It's great for reading impromptu at cons: we had so much fun doing it at Trinoc*coN! Yes, just another plank in my plan for World Domination.

Epiphanies and Inspiration

No column today: I'm not writing any this month as I'm just too swamped. Tonight's the dress rehearsal for the Camerata's production of Saint-Saëns' Carnival of the Animals with me as narrator. Do join us tomorrow night for the performance if you can at 7:30 in the Picotte Recital Hall of the Massry Center. It will be lovely -- we have some amazing performers.

From Rome

I had a little epiphany this morning: Modern publishing is like science, extracting genre from organic story like chemicals from herbs. The best stories straddle genre. I already knew the falseness of marketing to strict genres; what I hadn't realised was its similarity to how medical science has sought to isolate the "effective" chemical and extract it from the plant. What they've been discovering of course is that all the seemingly extraneous elements play important roles in absorption and so forth.

Over at UAlbany they had John Patrick Shanley visiting. I went to the afternoon seminar, as always hoping to hear something that will kick my brain back into high gear. I loved his story about how Cyrano de Bergerac inspired him as young teen in the Bronx, being both tough, smart and a freak -- and getting all his friends pastries with just the power of his words. "That's what I do." He has a very direct (and funny) way of talking, as befits an ex-Marine from a rough part of New York. You can see it when he mentions telling a critique partner in exasperation, "I don't know why you're alive," because his script was full of "lies" and bad writing. But he also says how much he hungers to have the ultimate romantic connection. A lot easier for an ex-Marine to say that and be taken seriously, but you see within the snappy patter the guy who wrote Moonstruck. The image that gave birth to that film was his mother's face and the sky that he saw as a child and then she was gone and what was in the sky? The moon.

He got a little impatient with one guy who seemed to want to pump him for the secrets to success and repeated exactly what I have always believed: writing has shamanic power. You're not writing for yourself, you're writing for your tribe (and sometimes, to find your tribe). All I need, he said, is a torch in the dark telling my stories before a circle of people. "The problem with a lot of bad writing is all the subtext, I'm sick of subtext." People speak less when they tell the truth, Shanley said, because it always costs them something.

Things to keep in mind as I keep working on the talk. Trying not to think about Lucky Jim too much. Be truthful. Offer something real. Tell my tribe what I know.

Reading: Lumottu

I am very pleased to announce that my play Lumottu will receive a fully cast reading at the Arts Society of Kingston on May 31st. Casting will commence soon. As they make clear on the website, "These are workshops rather than productions, whose focus is on process, not product. It is the hope of the Lab that playwrights will listen to all feedback without defending or explaining their work, then sift through the feedback at their leisure. In the end, only the playwright can decide what feedback to use or lose."

The name of the play is the Finnish word for "enchanted" and it explores the power of myth for people in difficult situations. Here's the description they're using for mailings:

Arja lives with one foot in this world and the other in the mythic world of ancient Finland. Her family has moved to the new world, but the old world’s magic clings to their lives — and deaths.

Sound intriguing? I hope so. This play first jumped from my head Athena-like when I was on the boat in Lake Saimaa heading out to see the ancient rock paintings. I saw it as a performance: a woman dressed as Louhi with her eagle wings behind a girl who was telling the story. It's wonderful to have this one step closer to realising that image.



Much unexpected fun last night: John Crowley was reading at the UAlbany Art Museum. Who knew? Thanks, Christopher for mentioning it in time for me to get there. And we all went out to The Point afterward which was delightful as always. In addition to the super-duper volume of Little Big, he and his wife worked on a new Helen Keller documentary that will be part of American Masters this fall.

Weekend Round-up

Here's Kipper showing why it's so easy to find excuses not to write. Good intentions often get trumped by someone who really wants attention right now and will sit on your pad of paper to make sure he gets it. One of the things I was trying to do on that paper was try out my new fountain pen (which I think I neglected to mention when it came last week -- I really do need to have some minions and/or acolytes! What kind of a cult is the Cult of Kaity if it remains minion-less?!).

The Victorian which I got from His Nibs is quite lovely and looks suitably retro to be either steampunk or a murder weapon in a Wilkie Collins novel. Inspiring to write with -- or that's the plan. I did manage to get a good bit of writing done this weekend after a week of mostly frustration and discarded dreck. Like the man said, sometimes the magic works and sometimes it doesn't.

Sunday I took part in the first of what will be a monthly series of open mic readings at the Arts Center in Troy. Hosted by Dan Wilcox and Nancy Klepsch, it featured both poetry and prose! Okay, let me repeat that: PROSE! All the open mics around here are open to poets only. Why doesn't prose get the love, too? Part of the reason I started Prose at the Rose is because there are precious few outlets for reading prose. I love reading, I love hearing other people read, but no one but poets allowed in most readings. So kudos, Dan and Nancy. I read "Vironsusi" from Unikirja and it seemed to go over well, despite going over the time limit (d'oh! just cut me off next time, I told Dan). Second Sunday of the month at 2pm will be the regular slot. Come on by and bring something to read.

One more thing I forgot: here's one of the costumes from A Winter's Tale at Shakespeare and Co. They had some out in the lobby at The Real Inspector Hound. It's always so lovely to see the fine craftsmanship on the costumes up close. Really wonderful work. They had one of Richard III's costumes there, too. Wonderful work. I forgot, too, to mention that when Inspector Hound made his entrance at last, he had these steampunk accessories which made me laugh.

Laurie Anderson's 'Delusion' & Nowhere Boy

Friday I had the chance to catch a couple of fun things: Laurie Anderson's Delusion at EMPAC (my favourite local venue) and Sam Taylor-Wood's Nowhere Boy at the Spectrum 8 (as usual). Of course there were several other things possible that night -- among them, Nick Lowe sob! -- but one can't do everything (but two might try, but how to make two of me...?).

Nowhere Boy tells the story of John Lennon's teenage years living with his aunt Mimi (Kristen Scott Thomas) while getting reacquainted with his mother (Ann-Marie Duff)who had left him at the age of five and the emotional turmoil inherent in that situation, as well as the budding musical career he got off the ground between various hooliganish larks. Initially the film's release was overshadowed by director Taylor-Wood's relationship with her much younger lead actor, Aaron Johnson -- a disparity and relationship that would raise few eyebrows if the genders were reversed. The film has a brilliant cast all around (and not too terrible with the Liverpudlian accents for the most part) and definite emotional hooks, but the script doesn't really hang together well. Despite its basis in fact, it's not always compellingly believable, but I did enjoy it on the whole. There are plenty of little tidbits for the fans, like the drawings hanging on the wall that later show up on Lennon's Walls and Bridges LP. The visual accuracy of recreating existing photos through careful wardrobe choices: a pity the same care is seldom applied to crafting the script (cf. Sid & Nancy where the "My Way" sequence mimics the video precisely, but the filmmakers can't be bothered to find out how many siblings Nancy has).

Laurie Anderson is always an interesting performer. I had seen her talk about developing this piece at MassMOCA months ago, so I was already curious to see what had come. It was a much more visual show than some of the others I'd seen in recent years, with images and words projected on the giant screen behind her, on a sofa as well as two uniquely shaped screens on either side of the stage. The show, "a meditation on life and language", ranged widely across a wide variety of subjects in a dialogue between her own voice and the "male voice" she's been using for years that now has the name of Fenway Bergamot. Many of the themes had great resonance for me particularly her thoughts on the impact of silence and her descriptions of her travels in Iceland and how they sparked revelations about her own family. She rode Icelandic ponies at Halldór Laxness' farm (I only rode them at the farm across the way) and met a man who had a brilliant idea to turn a decrepit barn into dance club. Looking around the bleak landscape, Anderson realised at last who this man reminded her of: her own father and his enthusiasm for completely impractical notions.

In one of the most moving -- and difficult -- parts of the evening, she spoke of her mother's death and her difficulty in dealing with the loss of someone she "did not love". A priest she talked to suggested that she simply say that she had always cared about her, but she never got the chance to say those words. Anderson described her mother's delusions at the end of her life, animals she could see on the ceiling, and her gratitude, thanking everyone for coming, for all they had done. It was a really naked moment. She described a dream in which she gave birth to her dog, but also caught herself out in the dream because she had engineered the experience.

There was enthusiastic applause at the end, which continued even after she had come out for another bow, and I had just thought, "well, it's not as if she could do an encore..." when she stepped out again and did just that, picking up the electric violin and stepping to the edge of the stage where we could see her without the lighting (we were in the second row) and played a plaintive tune that held the audience spellbound.

Wonderful.

Filament @ EMPAC

Thank you, thank you, thank you, Nippertown! I was planning to see some events at Filament, the weekend long fest at EMPAC, AKA the finest performing arts center in the region, but thanks to the free pass I won, I got to see a LOT. It was a gorgeous weekend -- inside and out. Cool but sunny and the big wooden ball inside the glass case looked lovely. That's the thing about EMPAC, it's aesthetically appealing but also amazingly and intricately functional. Each performance space can be endlessly rearranged to accommodate sound, lighting, screens and so on. The small studio spaces have mobile seating as well.

Things we saw: Early Morning Opera's ABACUS performance in the main concert hall, presented by Early Morning Opera, directed by Lars Jan and performed by Paul Abacus. It was inspired by R. Buckminster Fuller, he of the geodesic dome, whom I learned about from the inner sleeves of Harry Nilsson albums. The multimedia presentation, was a combination of Abacus' exhortations, video screens, music, the steadicam dancers and -- briefly -- a giant panda. It was meant to be a melding of Powerpoint business lectures, stadium church preaching and genuine appeal. Much of it worked well, although I thought the final shooting in the hallway tried too hard to connect the radical notion of a world without borders to the fates of leaders who had been assassinated for their radical views. The Q&A after was hampered by Abacus appearing in one of the studios in another performance and for me, because Jan looks disconcertingly like David Baddiel but talks Californian. We went to the installation afterward, which happened in the same space but for one person at a time. We each went in for our encounter with Dr. Hieronymus Yang, "the world's first accredited giant panda" which involved touch screen control of images projected on the six giant screens (although not all the bugs had been worked out).

By far my favourite pieces were the live shorts, which were in Studio 1 (in various configurations). Standouts included "The Golden Veil: A Cautionary Entertainment" by the National Theater of the United States of America who offered a spookily creepy, fairytale-like narrative. "Sheepspace" by Sue-C and Laetitia Sonami offered a video projection into the secret world of sheepwomen who live between the boundaries of known worlds. "Intervention #2" by Wally Cardona + Heidi Jo Newberg, professor of Physics, Applied Physics and Astronomy at RPI, featured an interview with Newberg to which Cardona creates a choreography. Items that seemed like random things strewn across the space
ended up being part of the tools by which Newberg helped students understand infinity and the vastness of space. Cardona's amazing movements created an extra layer of wonder. It's been so long since I've seen a dance performance, I had forgotten just how amazing the human body can be.

MTAA did a twitter performance called "You Don't Know What You're Talking About" which allowed the audience to tweet things that they would read. Of course I was pleased that several of my tweets got read :-) It was great to see people tweeting ways to involve the whole audience, too. Despite the short time (10 minutes) it was wonderful to see how the performance innovated. I liked the ideas behind Trouble's performance "A Narrow Vehicle" but their attempt to utilize ritual elements for a kind of spiritual performance fell a little flat because the ritual didn't go anywhere, it certainly wasn't (as they claimed) shamanistic in any way and wow, people are not observant. A lot of people just walked off the path. The ballet-centric piece "Another Circle" by Jen DeNike and Rose Kallal likewise tried to call on the power of ritual magic, but didn't quite come together. The hypnotic pirouettes of the dancer on screen and live did offer a sort of abstract meditative energy, but the assaultive soundscape undercut any meditative impulse. A real crowd-pleaser was "Amazingland in Troy EMagicPAC" by Steve Cuiffo, Trey Lyford and Geoff Sobelle, which used the practices of popular magic and showmanship.

We finished Saturday night with BalletLab's Miracle, "a triumphant onslaught of choreographic hysteria performed against repetitive mantra, movement, and hym-like voices." It was cathartic, emotional -- I think I felt exhausted just watching the dancers perform. It was remarkable how they evoked scenes of religious and social hysteria, cult behaviour and terrible emotional suffering. Near the end the sound became almost too much for me to bear (high sharp tones at high volume always bother me), but it was an arresting performance that left the audience simply limp by the end.

There was more -- installations, performances, the crowds roosting in the trees surrounding the site, lots of conversation and a gorgeous weekend of weather. I'm exhausted just typing all this and it's taken me all day to finally sit down to do it, so this will have to do for now. But if you haven't got yourself up to EMPAC, you need to do so with all due speed. Amazing and beautiful. My head is humming with ideas and inspirations -- and that's what it's all about.

Review: After the Dance + NT backstage tour

I love the NT! What could it be? Their wide variety of programming? Plays old and new? More female directors in this single building than on the whole of Broadway? So many reasons!

I found yet another reason when I took their backstage tour. Yes, I am so enamoured of theatre life that it was bound to be fun. Plus I got previews of the two productions I was going to see this week. Although it was the dinner break for most of the crew, there were a few people around including some of the actors warming up.

First stop was the Olivier, their largest theatre. The set for Women Beware Women was on stage and they were doing the sound check for the evening's performance. Our guide explained how in addition to turning the set around, the giant cylinder can also bring up an entire set from below while taking another down in a sort of corkscrew movement. There are over a thousand lights, some fixed, some programmable, and sight lines are fixed at 118° which matches the sight lines of the human eye, the slope of the seats making sure no one ever blocks your view (though I find it does make me knees a little wobbly looking down).

The Lyttleton is a more traditional theatre, but the proscenium can rise and lower and the sides as well, so it can be widescreen or not.  The set for After the Dance was up and a few tech people were testing things out, as it's still in previews. We went back stage and there were still sets for The Habit of Art, Alan Bennett's latest play, which I'd seen via simulcast just before I left for London. Everything was modular so it could be moved in and out easily. There are up to three plays rotating on all three stages at any given time -- amazing! We went around directly behind the stage where the set for The White Guard sits, wonderfully evoking turn of the century Russia in the winter -- there's even a real spruce for the Christmas tree.  The entire set rolls forward and then gets lowered onto the stage. Quite ingenious.

In the tiny Cottesloe, actors were warming up on stage, but our guide said they were all right with our trooping in to take a peek. I haven't been to a production in this little black box theatre, so I'm looking forward to doing so soon. Not only can the stage be reconfigured, but the seats as well. Behind the scenes, we saw the boxes of the horses from War Horse packed to be shipped to Broadway, and a giant portrait of Olivier hangs in the narrow but very long corridor between all the workshops. Among the props were things like a bloodied head and a few turtles. In the huge paintshop the floor for Moira Buffini's new play, Welcome to Thebes, were newly painted and partially assembled. The huge backdrop painted like a grey sky hung across the walls. Amazing that there's that much space.

After the tour, it was time for After the Dance and its decadence between the wars, when the sparkle of the Bright Young Things has lost most of its lustre. Thea Sharrock directs a stellar cast in Rattigan's play which allow individuals to emerge from the types and shifts our sympathies as layers are gradually revealed, even in people steadfastly determined to have only a shiny surface. Hildegard Bechtler's set effortlessly reproduces sumptuous but tasteful wealth.

We're introduced to the Scott-Fowler home by the absence of its central figure, David (Benedict Cumberbatch), who's sleeping off the effects of yet another of the endless parties. His cousin, Peter (John Heffernan), a poor relation who's paid to be a secretary for the history he's supposedly writing. His disapproval of his cousin's life comes out in conversation with John Reid, a sort of professional hanger-on played by the always wonderful Adrian Scarborough. David's wife Joan (Nancy Carroll), tries to dismiss Peter's concerns, but when Peter's fiancée, Helen (Faye Castelow) arrives with her doctor brother, it soon becomes clear that David is far worse off than a mere hangover -- and that Helen is completely smitten with him.

It's wonderful to see the ways that various characters figure it out. David is nearly the last, but finds himself drawn to the very different version of himself that Helen is briskly determined to make. Peter is of course the very last, in his youthful assumptions of clear cut answers, it simply doesn't fit. The most moving performance comes from Carroll's embodiment of Joan, who works so hard to be the superficial party girl that she finds it too difficult -- until it's too late -- to show how much she really feels. The most affecting character ends up being Scarborough's Reid, who spends most of the play being a terrible sort of scrounger and lout, yet digs out some of the most heartfelt lines by the end.

The tense final scene would have played a lot better if there were not a veritable chorus of coughing during it. Why do people save up their hacking and harrumphing for the theatre?!

Magus: The Alan Moore Conference (Day Two)

Here's another one of Adele's photos: just out of shot to Alan's left is me holding Melinda's glass. One of these days, I'm going to remember to take a picture with them. But don't they look sweet together? More on thee two later. I left London on the same train as I had the day before, but bank holiday weekend engineering works made sure that I was late. The cab dropped me off just after the time slated for panels to begin; fortunately, things were running slightly late, so Andrés was just introducing Gary Lloyd when I arrived, waving a belated hello to Adele.

Gary had worked with Alan on Brought to Light—not one of my favourites among the CDs, but an important work nonetheless. I was interested to see what he would talk about as his title "Moore and Music" could cover a lot of ground. It was fascinating to hear him talk about working together and how Alan has 'perfect pitch' but a voice so deep his falsetto doesn't sound like a falsetto. He was amusing, too, illustrating his talk with imaginary charts (all of which worked in an off-hand reference to SKIZZ), Homer Simpson eating a donut, and his six year old nephew's drawing of Watchmen, a drawing that showed superheroes like Spider-man, Batman and Hulk at the bottom of a cliff crying for help and Rorschak simply saying, "No."

Cyril Camus of the University of Toulouse traced the many ways in which Neil Gaiman had been inspired by Moore's work, often quite directly and how the friendship and influence of Moore helped shape Gaiman's career.  U Northampton's Jasmine Shadrack presented a lively discussion "V Versus Hollywood: A Discourse on Polemic Thievery" with a V mask hanging from the podium.  She traced her unexpected reaction to the movie version of V for Vendetta, which had been a singularly affecting novel for her on first reading it.  While the film changed much, there was still a great deal to celebrate.

I chose to go to the film panel after the break, perhaps perversely, because most of the films made from Moore's material have been so exquisitely bad. Stephen Keane, also from Northampton, covered "Watching the Watchmen: From Panels to Frames in Watchmen" which he warned us would be a loose presentation, more preliminary than final and it was, but he had a few interesting points to make from film studies approach.  Aine Young from Queen's University Belfast, examined "From Hell: The Adverse Journey from Page to Screen" and how Moore's carefully constructed Victorian landscape (among other details) was flattened and homogenized by the filmmakers.  The Hughes Brothers may have wanted to capture the grit and the slums, but in the end could not escape the Disneyfication of the project.  Ian Dawe of Selkirk College spoke about "The Moore Film Adaptations and the Erotic-Grotesque" as a way of measuring the success of the film versions, as he found those that removed that quality from Moore's texts were sure to render a bland product.  While it seemed an intriguing concept, I couldn't really agree with his declaration of From Hell as the best adaptation.

Then it was lunch and more chat with Adele and with Marc, whose paper I had missed (but it went well, he said). As I was getting yet another cup of tea, I suddenly found myself handing a tea bag to Alan. I wasn't sure he'd remember me, but he did and we chatted a bit as we made our teas, mostly about what a strange thing it was to have a conference all about one's work.  But then as he said, "I've had a weird life, so this is just one more bit."  Since I hadn't met Melinda before, he made a point of taking me over to introduce us and she's just as delightful in person as she had been on the phone (and gave me a nice compliment too, "We love your writing!"). Yes, I made sure to introduce Adele, who snapped that lovely photo. We all went in for the Q&A, which Paul Gravett was hosting. I brought my new Flip camera and managed to video most of the session, while Paul talked with Alan and then Melinda and then they both responded to audience questions. But the session went long (no one complained!) and my camera ran out of memory, so I'm missing the last bit.

I hope to put up the video on line, so let me just mention a few things that came up at the end, including Alan's comment that "art is a kind of possession" and that "I'm a very possessive person!"  Most people in Northampton seem to know him (and judging by folks at the conference, have stories to tell about him), except for some employee at Sainsbury's who threatened the "scruffy guy" with calling the police if he came in again. I loved how Melinda described how we should all realise we're mushrooms who seem to be separate, but under the ground we all share roots. Referring to some of the people who claim him as an influence, Alan suggested that all they had picked up was the idea that "more sex, more violence, be incomprehensible" was what created "that Alan Moore feeling." Subjects ranged form Lost Girls, Jerusalem, Dodgem Logic and Melinda's autobiographical project to upcoming appearances by Alan on Radio 4 with scientist Brian Cox and in the newly opened catacombs under Waterloo (with musicians in July – argh!)  They were both generous enough to stick around for a good while chatting with people and signing things, though Alan said it was really just an excuse to mow through the buffet table. I shared a cab back to the train station and the trip to London with some colleagues chatting about the conference. Everyone seemed delighted.

While Saturday had been rainy and grey, Sunday was gorgeous though blustery, perfect for cycling over to Battersea Park to check out the boating. Baby coots, ducklings and goslings abounded and an entourage of ducks followed the boat quacking loudly for the apple bits I tossed behind me. Pub lunch was a nice roast dinner—yum!  Monday coming back from shopping I got caught in the midst of the pro-Palestinian protestors who gathered at the entrance to Downing Street and lay down in front of the bus I was on. Good thing I didn't have any ice cream in my bag of groceries.

Today I'm off to see a matinee of Tom Stoppard's The Real Thing at the Old Vic with Toby Stephens. Can't wait!

Review: Bright Star

I headed off to see Jane Campion's latest film, Bright Star, with my intrepid fellow film reviewer, Peg, on Friday. Yes, it was another afternoon matinée, or what we have come to call the blue hair screening. It was also a particularly packed one, so there was nowhere to go to get away from the gentleman next to me emitting rather noisy, um, eruptions, nor to escape the man a row back who suddenly began snoring loudly upon the instant in which one of the characters mentioned needing to sleep (about two thirds of the way through the film).

Named for Keats' poem "Bright Star" the film follows the development of the attachment between Fanny Brawne (Abbie Cornish) and John Keats (Ben Wishaw) in the early nineteenth century. The cast is full of actors you recognize (well, if you watch a lot of small British films) and for the most part excellent and able to slip into their roles with ease. Paul Schneider as Charles Armitage Brown sometimes seems to be powering his Scottish accent with a bellows, nonetheless he has a terrific physical presence that makes much of the intricate intimate relationship between himself, Keats and Brawne. Wishaw brings a vulnerability to the poet, but also a wistful humour. His passionate reactions at times seems to be about to make his limbs fall apart. Cornish brilliantly conveys the awakening interest Brawne develops for this most unlikely man, and her transformation from hard-headed bon vivant to love-sick partner completely captivates.

The film is leisurely and episodic, as you might expect from Campion -- it's also incredibly gorgeous, making the most of both the period costumes and Brawne's fascination with fashion. The color is absolutely breathtaking in some scenes (yes, yes, the bluebells lavender [thanks, Chloë!]) and as enervating as a black hole in others. I can't recall the last time an entire audience stayed spellbound through the closing credits, but in our showing they did -- everyone listening to Wishaw's recital of "Ode to a Nightingale" as the music continued and the credits rolled by. Wonderful.

In Case You're Wondering

This is what a tenure package looks like; this is actually Kim's (who had loaned me hers as a model) because I only remembered that I was going to take a picture of it after I had turned it in. More or less like mine, though the tabbing is far neater. It contains the letter applying for tenure and promotion (the hardest part to produce), CV, all your year end reports, all your faculty data forms (another kind of end-of-year report), nine teaching observations, from other faculty members, and course evaluations from twelve different courses. The letter has to highlight what's important in the hundreds of pages of data included in the binder, so the committee gets a picture of who you are as a teacher, scholar and colleague (assuming they don't already know). I'm fortunate that at least a couple members of the committee know me personally and are acquainted with what I do. The problem of being a medievalist -- what you do seems odd and often obscure to others.

Kantele TV

(check the credits at the end, too :-)

Happy Halloween!

Happy Spooky Day, everybody! Hope you're all doing something fun today. We're heading off to see the brothers down in Kingston, mon. I got a card from my sweetie with some Hello Kitty devil mints, an Oliver Reed Curse of the Werewolf finger puppet (!) and Halloween crackers.

Last night was the Devil's Night Reading which went very well. The students did a terrific job of decorating and organizing the readings. I dressed as Death and read Parker's "Résumé" and Lewis Carroll's "Brother and Sister" and Langston Hughes' "Request for Requiems" from Shrieks at Midnight.

Devil's Night (almost!)

Two things: on Thursday, the actual Devil's Night, we'll be taking part in a reading on campus sponsored by Sigma Tau Delta. Many spooky stories and poems will be featured as well as costumes and general spookiness. If you're in the neighborhood drop by Standish Room 1 in the Student Activity Center around 7pm.

Also, my poem "Devil's Night" is among the submissions at the Guardian for Halloween poems. Feel free to stop by and recommend it (link on the right next to the poem): vote for me!