Saturday, September 8, 2012

Poetry in the Red Chamber of Government House - a Brisbane Writer's Festival event

Tonight I had the absolute pleasuring of covering the 'Poetry in the Red Chamber' event which ran as part of the Brisbane Writers Festival. I'm volunteering for the festival as a daytime production runner and a nighttime events photographer, and the experience has been damn wonderful. 








I'll admit I wasn't sure what I was actually heading into this evening when I carted my stuff over to the city and showed my pass to get into the chamber early, but the quality of the readings this evening really shocked me - in the best way possible. The Red Chamber, with its velvet carpet, old oak, and soft lighting made for an intimate and acoustically beautiful locale. (It also made all my pictures look like I've used some shitty hipster-faux-filter, but I swear that's not the case.) 






There were eight poets reading, and each represented a different country. Many read their original poems in their native language then the translation directly afterwards and it was so enriching - I've never been to a reading where that happened, but now I can't imagine it any other way.




The first poet to speak was Nicholas Powell, and he read poems about Finland and Australia. 






The second to speak was Chantal Spitz from Tahiti and her interpreter. Chantal was the only poet who read her originals in an other-than-English language but then did not read out the translations herself. At the time I accepted this choice, but as the evening went on and I heard other poets read their own translations, I began to understand the richness of meaning that comes from hearing that one, original voice read both versions. I suppose it might come across too arrogant to expect foreign poets to read the English translations of their poetry at a reading, and that's fine, the point I simply want to make is that the reading is so much more powerful with the single author reading both versions. So shoot me. 



This handsome German fellow is Jan Wagner, and his work was particularly good. I really enjoy it when spoken word is also humorous, and Jan's pieces often ended in really clever remarks which eased laughter from the cosy audience. He read most of his work first in its original German, then in its English translation, citing the translators as he went. I officially really appreciate that procedure. Extremely eloquent with great frames. Go Jan.







Next in line was the extremely impressive Jeet Thayil from India. He read several of his poems by heart, and they were really beautiful little things. He was also amusing, he prefaced one of his poems with "this may be a feminist poem", another with "this might be an anti-marriage poem", and one was just all about how pissed he is at Baudelaire for lying to him about what being a poet was all about. Really good poetry, yes, but even better was the excerpt he read from his new novel Narcopolis - it sounds truly amazing. I'll be buying it without a doubt. Seriously. Get into that stuff, people. Now. 






This fine specimen of a Canadian woman was easily my favourite of the evening. a rawlings (lack of capital letters is deliberate) works her voice in the most incredible ways to create a whole soundscape of poetry. She has the skill of a beatboxer, matched with the talent of a striking poet, and for whole minutes she reads from her book but speaks no words, almost as though she was reading music rather than letters. The thing about this woman, is that every single noise she makes is so full of purpose - as though  each word and sound is so carefully pronounced that you can tell she is constantly communicating exactly what she wants to. Her message is clear. It's an incredible experience and I've definitely never heard anything like it. 





Second last to speak was Ouyang Yu from China. Ouyang read his poems in his native Chinese, then in English of his own translation. I understood a fair bit of his original works, and I honestly have to say that something was lost in translation. The audience grew a little restless and I felt it was a bit unjustified. For anyone reading this who does, in fact, understand Mandarin, then give him a shot. 


The last to speak was Australian poet Les Murray. To be honest, it wasn't the strongest end to the evening for the simple fact that Les was not quite as eloquent as each of the other speakers. I liked the way his anecdotes to describe the poems morphed into the poems themselves, and he did have an economy of words and a good wit about him. One of his poems about having diabetes was very good, although another was about how he was afraid of the internet because he didn't want to be wrongly arrested for child porn? Something like that? Maybe I'm just not the intended demographic for his particular kind of work...

Unfortunately by the time Les was speaking, some of the older attendees (perhaps those more aligned to his intended demographic) were finding it difficult to hear and stay awake.


The evening ended with many attendees getting to speak to their favourite poets, and I left the chamber listening to praise bouncing off the walls. It must be a nice change for this room because I think normally it's just a bunch of asses sitting on their asses in there. As I was filling out the forms to return my guest pass and leave Government House, I overheard an elderly woman asking a security guard if she could return to the seats while she waited for a taxi, despite having already signed out. 
"Of course!" He replied warmly, to which she said:

"Well it's my house, after all, isn't it."

HELLZ YEAH IT IS, LADY. IT CERTAINLY IS. I think Government House should be open to a whole lot more of these kinds of events. The building belongs to all of us.

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

The Young Pioneer Magazine Launches Today!

Hello friends, I'm the creator and editor of a brand new online magazine that's all about extreme travel, and it just launched this evening. The idea was born by Gareth Johnson - the guy that took me on a tour of North Korea, and all of the content is seriously badass. I mean, I feel honoured that these people sent me their stuff, and I'm incredibly proud of how the whole thing has turned out for this first issue. There are some really poignant written pieces and also some breathtaking photography.

The Young Pioneer is an online magazine featuring the writing and photography of extreme travellers. Specialising in destinations that your mother would rather you stay away from, content is always well-informed, well-written, and badass. 

Anna Apuli, the genius behind my poiseonarrows header you can see right above here, designed the site from scratch so that it actually looks beautiful too.

Anyways, it would mean a lot to me if you guys would head on over and have a look at it - you know, just get a feel for the thing, see if it's 'up your alley' so to speak, at all.


The Facebook page for it is here.

The actual site is here.

This is the twitter.


Thankyouverymuch.


Monday, August 13, 2012

Two of the Best Boutique Shops in Brisbane

I've been a little excessive lately with my spending. A new book - Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace is awesome and massive. Man it's a hell of a ride, I'll have to tell you about it soon. A new tote bag from the the Mummy: Secrets of the Tomb exhibit at the Brisbane Museum when I went to their sexy "After Dark" session. The bag is calico and covered in hieroglyphs! So geek/chic, right!? Right, guys? Also, a new pencil doesn't sound like much - but Palominos are something altogether above the general level of pencils and go together just too beautifully with my Moleskines

So my point is I really like things and I'm (maybe) a category 3 hoarder, but it's okay because all of the things I hoard are either beautiful or super awesome. Totally valid excuse. Not that I even need an excuse, I suppose. I digress. I want to talk to you about two of my favourite shops in Brisbane for when you really just want to buy something great: Absolutely Fabulous and Handmade High Street.

Absolutely Fabulous is a beautiful boutique in Woolloongabba's antiques district, and they sell a combination of beautiful new stock and carefully selected (from the surrounding purveyors of fine furniture, jewellery and household miscellany) vintage stock. Check their blog for updates about new stock and temptations. 

I bought this candle today, and I'm smelling it right now as I type this, and it's out of this world all kinds of crazy good scent. It's made by Voluspa (check out their decadent website) and it's a combination of sandalwood, bamboo, and musk - and it kind of smells like what I imagine a really sexy person smells like. You know exactly what I mean. They had another one which mixed goji berry, mango, and orange together - and that one just smelt like relaxed happiness. I don't know how they can solidify and bottle such sensations, but they do, and it's damn good. I've never spent $22 on a candle before, and I feel like I should feel a bit silly about doing so, but I just don't. If you could just smell it, you too would understand. 


Handmade High Street is on Ipswich Rd in Annerley, within the little cluster of op-shops and antique stores that have just exploded in popularity lately. It's not your average shop though, it has it's own unique code of supporting local and Australian creators exclusively, and doesn't charge commission on selling their work. It's a super interesting business model that makes me proud to be part of Brisbane's creative community, and if you're interested in that kind of thing you should definitely have a look at their website and get in touch with them. 




There are some seriously incredible artists stocked in this shop - these are a few that stood out to me and if you have the time then I strongly recommend having a quick peek at their websites and/or etsy pages:

  • Georgeson Jones does some seriously fucking amazing resin rings in the shape of skulls and they're only $20!
  • Patti Pennisi's necklaces are a bit hit-and-miss, but check out the neon drop earrings and the resin disk rings for a damn fine colour pop. 
  • Monster Planet Design does prints of sic-fi characters in a kind of pop/street art style which is just plain cool. It's what cool is all about. Lucy Lawless as Xena 2D rendered in blue, pink, and yellow? YES PLEASE!!! Oh - and they're actually affordable too, so perfect for kids like me who need cool things that aren't going to send me to the gutter. 
  • Gill Pyke's work was exhibited in the Lust for Life exhibition I was in a few months ago, and you can buy her crazy/strange/incredible (but this time wearable) creations which are like badass origami. 
  • Lastly, Sheina Thomas is the mastermind behind Crypt Creations and the creator of my fantastic new green bone-shaped hair clips. These pretty babies were just $8, and she has a bunch of other kooky tongue-in-cheek stuff over at her site, including pink glitter versions of these babies

So there you go... just another two reasons to love this city!
   

Friday, July 20, 2012

Why Peter Rose is the emerging writer's new best friend - QWC and ABR.

It was Thursday night and I passed up the highly-publicised Trent Jamieson event at Avid to attend a small talk at the Queensland Writers Centre headquarters in the State Library. It was an intimate talk with the editor of the Australian Book Review, Peter Rose, and something told me it was going to be a gold mine of juicy advice and information. That hunch proved correct, and the words that follow are an attempt to reproduce some of the brilliance that eloquently spilled out of Mr Rose that evening. The event was also Kate Eltham’s last as Chief Executive Officer of QWC, and she was wished a warm farewell.

Mr Rose is a poet, and has also written a memoir and two novels. He’s been the editor of the ABR since 2001 and was at Oxford University Press Australia before that. He’s written a total of 5 poetry collections, the most recent of which is ‘Crimson Crop’ released earlier this year. You can listen to him talking on 4ZzzFM here.

ABR turned 50 last year, and Mr Rose began the evening with a brief introduction to the magazine and its content. He said its core mission is still the same as it has been for decades - “to cover Australian literary culture”. Reviews featured in the magazine are approximately 1200 words (which really is quite large) and, rather impressively, only about 20% of the content isn’t either Australian-written or Australian-published.  There have been some priority shifts in the recent years, however, and Mr Rose highlighted the development of their competitions and prizes focus. The ninth annual Peter Porter Poetry Prize, for example, is currently open for entry and has a first prize of $4000. There were 1300 short stories submitted for the 2012 Elizabeth Jolley short story prize which carries a total prize pool of $8000. There’s also the Calibre prize for an outstanding essay with a totally prize pool of $10’000. It’s an intense and exciting list, and spectacularly funded, too.
 
 
Mr Rose himself.
 
A query by Ms Eltham into the financial situation of the magazine gave Mr Rose an opportunity to express something he seemed to be itching to say, which is that “actually, the magazine is in robust health.” I want to end this sentence with an exclamation mark to indicate his satisfaction and my surprise simultaneously, but for some reason I feel like he wouldn’t appreciate that. Later on, though, he did mention that “it’s not Shangri-La,” and that “there are realities here.” There was a nod and assenting murmur from our Brisbane audience, all too aware of the abysmal cut of funding to the Premier’s Literary Awards.
So how is ABR funded? “Through philanthropy we’ve been able to fund a lot.” Mr Rose explained that “anyone who works in literature is aware of the purpose of private patronage.” Later on he came back to the topic of financial support, and expressed a kind of mild exasperation that “our literature is amazingly sophisticated for a country of 20 [or so] million people,” and yet “literature cops it in the neck regularly,” as compared to, for example, the film industry. Apparently the film industry in Australia receives considerable government funding, and yet something like 1% of films consumed in Australia are actually Australian films. There appears to be a stupid disparity between what the respective industries bring in and what they create, and how much funding they receive.
 
Moving on from the accounting talk, though, and Mr Rose began singing into the ears of the nervous children (read: emerging writers) surrounding him. In other words, we moved on to the part of the talk where he got super encouraging and cuddly. Well, as cuddly as a tweed-wearing literary critic can be. “It’s been a particular pre-occupation of mine… to help improve and cultivate the next generation of critics.” Well thank you, Mr Rose, thank you very much. He even acknowledged the stigma surrounding literary criticism, but insists that ABR “is not a cliquey organisation... we are not terrifying.” It seems a humble thing for such an established publisher of such a prestigious publication to be saying, but he made it abundantly clear that ”ABR can be a very useful launching pad for reviewers and also poets and short story writers.”

I also found out that this QWC event was just one part of Mr Rose’s sweep of Brisbane. He spoke earlier at UQ that day and had a talk at QUT scheduled for Friday. He even mentioned that at UQ he met with 4 to 5 writers whom he will “certainly commission in the coming months.” I mean, come on, how goddamn encouraging can one dude be! For the trip, he even prepared a lovely checklist for those newbies considering writing for ABR and other publications in general, which is now available here. Many things on the list just gave me déjà vu from the So You Want to be a Writer session I went to a few weeks back. The first thing he emphasised was that “If you want to write for ABR, or indeed any magazine, get to know it.” Specifically, he encouraged people to just send him a succinct email (with emphasis on the word ‘succinct’ definitely clear). “By and large, if the person can spell, use correct grammar, and they don’t address the email with ‘Hi Pete’, then usually I’ll email back.” 

Some considerable discussion also covered the editing process. When a review or piece of writing is submitted for ABR it is, of course, edited – “no hissy fits” Peter adds. The group chuckles. Here’s the great thing about ABR too, they show the writer all the proofing and editing as it goes along. As an emerging writer this process has a very particular and intense appeal. It allows me to glimpse the editor’s thought process, it allows me to learn from my mistakes with a precision that equates to real growth. It’s awesome. “If you want to be a reviewer, you have to be prepared to be edited. It’s an artistic process.” Yessir. Oh – and don’t be afraid to call a spade. Mr Rose said “I don’t think we see enough decidedly stinging reviews…” and he blames this on Australia’s literary culture being so very “polite”. I always imagined that a scathing review from a newbie writer was just too presumptuous and borderline arrogant, but it seems that sinking your teeth in, no matter how sharp, is fine. So long as it is justified, spelled correctly, and contains no grammatical errors.
 
 
Something else mentioned on the evening which I haven't covered properly in this post, is the paid internship position that ABR offers to a young graduate each year. This is Milly Main, the Ian Potter Foundation intern for 2012. Read more about how awesome this programs is here. This position is the perfect example of Mr Rose putting his money where his mouth is in terms of supporting emerging writers and publishers.
 
Another topic of conversation was the virtual side of things. Mr Rose got a little bit negative here. He doesn’t seem impressed with the whole online/blogosphere phenomenon, which initially made my fur prickle, but he went on to explain his opinion that online content is responsible for the suffering of artists, and I ended up agreeing with a lot of what he had to say. He expressed genuine concern that the lack of money involved in online content usually means that “someone is getting screwed.” I can relate to this on so many levels. I blog, and I blog a lot about books and writing, and I don’t make a cent from it. I do it because I love it and I do it because each post makes me better at what I do here, and one day I’m going to get paid for working in the industry. In the meantime though, I have a job with absolutely no correlation to what I want to do with my life, and the hours I spend on poiseonarrows are always rushed because of pressing university deadlines. I’m certainly not unique in this lifestyle either. Blogging is a tough mistress, and it can feel unthanking when you can’t see the faces of the people you’re writing to. I keep doing it though, because I’m writing for myself more than anything, and I think I would have gone insane if I didn’t have this platform for unloading my thoughts all through 2011. Anyways, enough about me. I think Mr Rose is sweet in his concern for people whose content is online when he asks “you do wonder sometimes, how is the writer going to survive?” but it’s also a little dismissive. The literary world is moving to the virtual plane in swift paces, and whilst I admire people like Mr Rose sticking to their guns and continuing to publish their magazines in print and support printed works, I would have really liked him to be a bit more positive on this front. I don’t think constructive adaptation to support emerging artists online as well as in hard copy is too much to ask from our industry.
 
One of the last things Mr Rose spoke about was the freedom of ABR to follow its own vision because it wasn’t tied to profit-making requirements. In fact, he seemed to trash talk the idea of similar organisations which work for profit, saying they suffer from a “relentless compromising of [their] standards”. Conversely, he says that “working for a not-for-profit organisation is so liberating.” I mean, his argument makes complete sense, but for some reason I still found it a little too high-brown and impractical. I’m no expert on the industrial side of things, but I cannot imagine it would be practical for all literary criticism magazines in Australia to offer tens of thousands of dollars in prizes, and not have to make some kind of gross income at the end of each July. I’m not saying I like it this way, but I think ABR is in a very unique and privileged position, and it’s not really fair to judge other magazines too harshly for their basic profit-based decisions. Perhaps this is a cynical Brisbane opinion, but in our current socio-political climate, I think all literary magazines that still function and support the industry in any way should be encouraged.

I think that’s about it! Mr Rose said he went on this Queensland trip to “encourage people to cut their teeth” with ABR, and repeatedly assured us that “there is a lot of work around for reviewers,” so I think most of us left the night on a truly positive note. With his focus on young and emerging writers, I think Mr Rose has made a bold and excellent decision to really dig ABR’s roots into the future of Australia’s literary industry. His passion as a poet and writer as well as a critic has clearly established the organisation as a supportive and encouraging yet prestigious and impressive publication. It’s a balance he himself seems to strike as well – walking the fantastic line between warm and professional. I came away from the evening with an excellent impression of Mr Rose (if you have the time, I highly suggest reading his regularly updated blog on the ABR website), and an itch to write for ABR which I might just slave and sweat to scratch. 
   

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

nightmares about ovens blowing up and suffocating at airports

I usually hate it when strangers yabber on about their dreams. I mean, it’s a notorious thing – when people begin a long story about a dream they had and to them it’s totally fantasmagorical and amazing, but to everyone else it’s just hell boring. For some reason we all believe our own sleepy adventures are so meaning-laden that they simply must hold some kind of key to unlock things previously unknown about our innermost psyche. Whatever man, whatever.

Ironically, on that note, I want to super swiftly describe a dream I had – but I implore you to bear with me through it because the explanation is (I believe) interesting. I dreamt that I was just getting out of the airport and arriving at a university. The university was in Germany. Ergo, I was in Germany. The dream went for about ten dream-minutes (of course I have absolutely no concept of how many real-life minutes that is) in which time I met some nice new students, spoke a little bit of basic German with them, and began to unload my luggage. 

And then I woke up. Fairly simple, relatively straight forward, I know. So what makes this dream at all significant? For one, I can’t speak any German at all, so lord knows what the hell I was saying. But more importantly: I had a dream about travel that wasn’t a nightmare. This is really big for me.
 
 
I went bungee jumping here (this is Uganda 2010, when I was 18) but oh no, I never have nightmares about it. Instead, I nightmare that I'm melting into the floor at the airport and I can't breathe... normal kid.
  
 
I have nightmares almost every night. They vary greatly in context and content, and I almost always remember them for at least a full day afterwards. The only think that makes sleep bearable is that I also have some of the most wondrous and crazy dreams. I’m not sure what difference there is between me and most people I talk to, but my subconscious imagination manifests itself quite vividly and memorably. Here’s another thing you need to know: a frequently recurring nightmare theme I’ve been experiencing in the last six-months-or-so is travel going wrong. Horrible things happen to me in unrecognisable international airports, everything that could possibly go wrong with my luggage goes wrong in new unforeseeable ways. I always end up with no money and no one around, I never have my passport or important documents with me, I often end up being violently mugged or locked in an interrogation room by intensely scary customs officers that yell at me in languages I can’t understand, and sometimes if I realise I’m in a dream (it’s called ‘lucid dreaming’) and I try to deny the reality of the situation, I begin to melt into the floor and can’t breathe. 
 
 
 
 
Sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo you can imagine my incredulation when I woke this morning, ate my fruit, started thinking about my dream, and realised its potentially pleasant significance.

Since I came back to Australia, I’ve lost count of the number of people (both close to me and relative strangers) who have asked me “where next?” To most of them I replied with an almost worrying certainty, that absolutely nowhere was next, and that I wholeheartedly intended to stay in my lovely hometown of Brisbane for a very very very long time. That was genuinely how I felt. I didn’t want to go anywhere. A little part of me didn’t even want to leave the house, and I had strange and constant worries about mundane things – constantly stressed that I was going to burn the house down when I was using the stove again, constantly stressed that I hadn’t locked the car door properly and it would get stolen, constantly stressed that I hadn’t closed the front gate properly and my dog would run out and get hit by a car. I suppose this all makes me sound like a morbid freak, but coming home is turbulent. I was away for 13 months, which is really a long time for a 20 year old. Anyways, enough rambling. I just want to illustrate that the nightmares of travelling were just one manifestation of the strange nature of stress I felt.
  
 
Somewhere in Kenya.
 
 
Lately my friends have been talking about their travel plans to New York and Latin America and two of my best friends are together in Scandinavia right now. And finally it’s actually exciting to listen to them talk about it, and I can finally tell them my crazy travel stories without going all foetal-position on them. Lol. It only took 6 months for the deep cogs of re-adjustment to get oiled back into gear. That doesn’t mean I’m heading off to the travel agent to book my next trip, it just means I’m finally actually chilling out. I’m properly settled back into daily life and things are going wonderfully.

One of the friends I made in China during my second semester has just returned to Australia, and I’m happy I can give him some of the advice I wish someone had told me about coming home.

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