The two poets featured are Jackie Wills and Katy Evans Bush.  Jackie billed as ‘Brighton’s own’ gave an enthusiastic reading to the packed audience.

By the way she has a brilliant blog too where she gets to the heart of the matter in terms of how she goes about writing  her poetry and what influences it.

Katy Evans Bush – born in the States – writes poetry reflecting her homeland as well as her life in London, where she has lived for many years.  Apparently she has several books to her credit and teaches at the Poetry School too.

Poets for the open mic slots managed to conquer nerves and read  their stuff with dignity and enthusiasm, offering a wide range of styles and content and each claiming their full 3 minutes of fame!

There is something special about the Pighog nights and indeed all of the events at the Redroaster Coffee House that attract a warm and welcoming audience. It is usually well attended which includes local poets, who although not performing are ready to give their support to those who are. Apprentice poets like myself, one of  John McCullough’s students attending a course at the Friends Centre and other interested parties.

Michaela Ridgway, organised the evening and Chloe, James, Meredith, Meg and Sarah  helped. There was  also a musical interval  (sorry I did not catch the name of the performer). .

Luckily  ’piggy poets’ are never hoggy, the kind that can never find the page, talk too much and run over their allotted time, so that fellow poets at the end who had also hoped to wow the audience don’t get their turn!

Do check out the Pighog website for more details of this season’s poetry nights, they take place once a month with coffee, chat, poetry, humour and enthusiasm.

Julian Bell’s paintings of ordinary people in everyday situations were done with such a vibrant palette that his painting of Wing Kip on the A23 might be in danger of becoming a tourist attraction. The fire bowl in the desert made another dramatic painting. Just as appealing,  however.  were the subtle colours of Swanborough in a fold in the Downs and the cave on the beach called A la Plage Etretat.

Some of Julian Bell’s  sketchbooks are on show and there is an  enormous oil painting called ‘motherboard’ which was a collage of his work in progress for Wing Kip.  This gave a  fascinating insight into how the picture developed, with sketches, some on tissue paper, overlaid one on the other.

Tom Hammick’s work is concerned with landscapes but in intense and often unnatural colours. The film/talk from his studio told us how he uses multi -media in his paintings. He  believes that film distils time,  so he takes photographs from tv programmes and on car journeys. He is keen on wood cuts and often listens to poetry and music before he starts his painting day.

Andrsej Jackowski presented an installation which was an array of stark paintings on japanese nap paper. This room was created specially for this exhibition and was based on an empty space. It started with a man in what looked like a cell on a boat and then moved to a series of painting on the theme of a barren room. In each one the mood changed by the introduction of  props and/or people over a period of time

Andrzel Jackowski is Polish and had been interned with his parents during the war following his parents’ escape from Italy.  On the film loop he told a very touching story of how one of his early influences had been his father’s stamp collection. These stamps were collected by his father during an earlier imprisonment and he carried them over the Alps and finally brought them to England.

Later, a poet in residence at Falmouth had interested Andrzej in psychoanalysis encouraging  art students to explore the way that creativity is influenced by the unconscious mind.

Much of the painting in this room appeared to be bleak but the dialogue from the artist gave it a new dimension.

Great exhibition – food for the soul today!

Note   Unfortunately there are just two sets of headphones in each corner of each room  so best to avoid busy times. Each recording lasts about 12 minutes  and there are no seats nearby, so the elderly might be advised to take along a folding stool.

But then I weakened and went to see the Iron Lady, not because I liked her policies but was curious about what they were going to make of things the miners strike and the Falklands war.  But was this a glorified documentary or  entertainment, watching a Maggie Thatcher lookalike wandering about on the edge of dementia?  I don’t care  however clever they were with  Meryl Steep’s make up, they should have waited until the real Iron Lady’s demise.

Then there are films about manic psychologists like Freud  trying out their theories on real people and I certainly won’t go to War Horse. Why not leave this story in the book or on the stage, where it was full of artistry and poignancy, for goodness sake!

We don’t need another Hollywood take of the Great War with the compulsory sunsets and a brand new dramatic musical score, even if the star is a very dear horse! Dear Michael Morpurgo why?  - You surely don’t need the money?

If  the merit of these films is supposed to teach the young a thing or too, sorry but they’re no where to be seen and I’m sure that none of these films on DVD will be on their Christmas list either.

…and what about all the people that have to go home alone to a cup of cocoa.

But I can’t knock the enterprise of Cinema Saltdean where I popped into see the Iron Lady melt.  Cheerful volunteers run the show, with the film on a big screen, chocs and an optional glass of wine in the interval. They deserved the packed house, I just hope they put on  something a bit more cheerful soon…

…and OK I’m not really a film buff at the best of times, but I’d settle on Hugh Grant playing himself in just about anything than all this doom and gloom.

Domenica/Elly revels in the research for her books and loves the history and mysticism that her unusual settings bring. Then there is her heroine Ruth Galloway out to solve the crime. Judging by the questions at the end I think most of the audience were Ruth Galloway fans!

I had already read two of Domenica’s Italian novels (she has written four). Her first book was partly based on various members of her family who had lived in Clerkenwell and had been interned during the Second World War. An uncle however had had a miraculous escape from a ship of interns bound for Canada. It was this event that offered the drama and intrigue in the book.

After an interesting outline of her adventures writing her crime novels mainly based in Norfolk,  we had a break for a glass of wine and informal chat.  This was followed by a lively question and answer session where we learned about the process of her writing, her relationships with her agent and publisher. She also told us that not only has she just written her fifth book as Elly Griffith  but also plans to write another Italian novel at some point.

I particularly love her Domenica d Rosa books, not only because her stories are beautifully told but because it just happened to give me real insights into my own father’s love of Italy.

I knew that my father spoke fluent Italian having served in the war and was in the battle for the Bay of Naples.  He was however, also a keen musician  and with other servicemen had a band that had entertained the troops. Later he had had a regular slot on Radio Milan.   The story goes, that his band was doing so well that he was reluctant to return to this country and to his wife and children when the war was over.

Domenica is a lovely speaker open and honest and with a great sense of humour. She also takes delight in being a  wife and a mother as well as an author. Tonight she had a lovely little power point presentation provided by one of her children.

Some of her books st in Italy are out of print but I managed to track them down on Amazon.

This talk was one in a series of special events at the Whiteways Centre which is run by a committee and an enthusiastic group of volunteers. The Centre has charitable status and runs many interesting adult education classes.

——————————————————————————————-

Post Script

These are our Commedia dell‘Arte characters that my 

father brought back from Italy after the war and were partly responsible for him  abandoning his musical aspirations and deciding to become a puppeteer. 

Commedia dell‘Arte is a form of theatre characterize by masked ‘types ‘ which began in Italy in the 16th century. It is thought that marionettes were developed as an extension of  the mask tradition. However some of the Commedia tradition was also adopted in Britain and became Punch and Judy.

————————-

…and just for fun!

One of my  grandson’s was having a boring day during half term a few years ago when I lived in London. We had the characters in the house at that time and here he produced a little improvised film – nothing at all to with the commedia tradition, but it won a prize in competition. He was nine at the time, he is now 17!

Luggage abandoned in the hall

And trains won’t wait for late departure.

 But here we sit

lost in the dance of life.

Mirrored in this tiny drama

and willing it never to end.

The heat of the fire

lulls us into companionable silence.

The flames leap and flare

reminding us of past passion.

Logs shift and fall

but we are motionless.

 Showers of feathery dust

And final embers fall away.

We rise reluctantly to go

and face our fond farewells.

 As if in a dream

fading into uncertain futures.

————

After the lovely Hockney and the Big picture in London.  Life is more of a little picture in not so sunny Brighton. All the usual routines like waking, eating, drinking and writing as well as filling the bird feeders on a barren tree and thinking about having a big clear out.  That is thinking about it rather than actually doing it of course. Must be February!

Well at least I am reading more and have started exchanging writing with one or two close contacts. We give each other constructive criticism which is good, but it is also a responsibility, the bonus is that their work has been really interesting.

Blogged  ’Moving on’ today because it reflects my current mood and feel a bit guilty not put any new poems up for a bit. But I’ve just made neat file on my lap top called  - Be serious/poetry - then there are four  folders inside the file.

The first one says  - Ideas and drafts, the second one says -Big edit needed,  a third says  Edited  - the fourth one says – Complete and ready to blog or send.  Needless to say this last folder only has one poem in it! But give me time!

]]> http://annperrin.wordpress.com/2012/02/09/moving-on-seemed-to-write-itself-on-leaving-lump-bank-poem/feed/ 0 annperrin http://annperrin.wordpress.com/2012/02/05/ive-fallen-in-love-with-hockney/ http://annperrin.wordpress.com/2012/02/05/ive-fallen-in-love-with-hockney/#comments Sun, 05 Feb 2012 12:16:37 +0000 annperrin http://annperrin.wordpress.com/?p=8312 Continue reading →]]> I didn’t know what to expect after all the razz-a-ma-tazz in the press. But now having  been to see the exhibition at the RA. I’ve fallen in love with Hockney, his drawings, his paintings and his passion. I simply adored the scale, the colours and energy of Hockney’s work.

What could be better than seeing how he had been inspired by the journeys he had made, in both California and Yorkshire. This exhibition concerntrating mainly on  his renewed interest in the countryside of his youth, where he now lives in Bridlington.

The salt mill and the rows of cottages, brought to life one aspect ofYorkshire, while his landscapes, farmland and woodland scenes others.  The sheer amount of work was daunting no least as it covered whole walls with watercolours, another with oils and finally a third with prints from his Ipad.

It was interesting to learn of his early life the north and that his mother spent her later life in Bridlington.  It  all seemed to underpin his passion and emphasise the close connection that these paintings had with his roots. His close friend, who was terminally ill  during the time he was painting his landscapes also lived in Wetherby.

It was clear from his modest oils in Eccleshill in 1956, his clusters of trees in charcoal,  walls of watercolours, enormous woods in oils, photo-collage and finally the video experimentation that his journey as an artist had been exhilarating.

He was being criticised by some in the gallery for a child-like style and too many unrealistic primary colours, but what is the point of art if  it only portrays total realism. Art has to be about something more than pretty pictures.

Hockney obviously loved explorations with photography, juggling images, layering pictures into photo collages e.g  The Grand Canyon.  Photography in the shape of video footage also had its place in this exhibition where, towards the end,  there is an impressive moving montage of video clips taken from a car with nine video cameras attached to it.

Several of the videos depicted the cycle of the seasons, with images taking us on hypnotic journeys down country lanes,  while another section brought music, life and humour and a whole new dimension to the word dance.

I was not so keen on, was the big Hawthorn Hedge. It looked like an invasion of large yellow caterpillars to me,  but the smaller ones done is situ were beautiful.

Later the explorations into a huge pile of twisted logs had purpose,  but again I prefered the atmospheric drawings of the subject that than the final piece.

I love Hockney for his humanity, the exploration in the cycle of the seasons and  comparing it with the cycle of our lives.  Here were the paintings of the joy of spring through to the decay of autumn and the sparkle of a landscape in the snow. One particular tree trunk represented a totem of death.

It was a celebration of a complexity of spirit, as well as a show of draughtmanship and colour.

‘Puppets in the Attic’ showed Fred Mumford, a cheerful 90 year old puppeteer, with his marionettes. It transpired that most of the collection is currently stored in his loft, together with historical film clips of Frank and his wife Maisie’s extensive career.

While I sincerely hope they get the finance to make the film, it doesn’t solve the problem of  the  fate of his dolls when he finally ‘pops his clogs’.

Ageing marionettes have been one of my own  pre-occupations for the last few years. Our puppet history is on www.puppethouse.co.uk. I’ve made films for youtube and  paid for their storage unit now that we live in Brighton. However,  a permanent display space has not  been forthcoming and museums seem to be cutting back on exhibition space.

I’ll remind faithful blog followers who have not checked our puppet site of the story so far…..

It was in the late 40s,  that my parents converted two rooms in our house in Highgate into a theatre, with 30 red plush tip up seats bought from a local cinema.  Our shows took place on Sundays and were often attended by local writers and the theatre fraternity. Valentine Dyall, ‘the man in black’  was a fan

It was  in the 50s that we did  shows with our marionettes in Harrods in Knightsbridge and for the rich and famous, both  in London Hotels or in their own homes. We also staged huge marionette musicals in theatres on the North Pier in Blackpool.  The following year this  show would go to The Spa, Scarborough,  where at 15 I was expected to run this second enterprise. On Sundays my parents would meet me in Harrogate to discuss the takings.

When winter approached,  it was back down to London to make a new show for Blackpool and so this triangle of enterprise continued for three or four years!

       …the kind of preparation that took place.

Marionettes in my view are nothing, unless they can move and I am the only person left in our family who can still operate them and at least I have made some films of reconstructions and they are on youtube.

A few highlights from our Puppet Circus that went to Buckingham Palace in the 50s

Part 2

Puppet companies in Europe certainly in the 60s, were often subsidised by the state. There was also a culture of street theatre, particularly in Europe where and puppets were sometimes used to challenge political ideals.  In Italy since the 16th century they have had the ‘Commedia dell’arte’, an improvised drama based on traditiional ‘types’.  Some of these popular characters developed into Britain’s Punch and Judy tradition

Although we never did Punch and Judy, Paul  my youngest son is passionate about politics as were some of the original traditional street entertainers including the anarchic Punch and Judy men. Punch in Judy however became an entertainment for children.

What exactly motivated Paul  I am not too sure, but last year he developed his own Punch and Judy show. Here are some of the highlights of a performance he gave to launch entertainment on the Terraces in Rottingdean 2011

Our marionettes are history really, I have had other careers but I did put on displays  in Saltdean Library and ran a few workshops when we first moved to Brighton, In 2010 I took a few of our marionettes to Rottingdean Fair. I have to confess the dolls were not impressed, stuck between the barbecues and the potted plants, they felt it didn’t have quite the same appeal as performing in cabaret at The Cafe Royal.

Some marionettes have no sense of gratitude!

Find Part 3 on this story by going to Puppethouse Mayhem on the header.

“Well,” said Mrs Realistic, “do I want to embark on a lifestyle pandering to promoters, some of whom hate women and think 35 is old, spend time trying to find gigs, in pubs, in obscure places like SoapandSodbury, on a wet Saturday night, get a few laughs, pedal home on my bike back along the coast road, at three in the morning? Answer –  NO!”

Pity really! But then no one gets paid anyway! After all that dosh on  how to be funny courses, gigs to support fellow funnies,  divorce, because you stopped working,  to write gags –  watch comedy at the Apollo, and have unrealistic expectations about  fame and fortune!

At  least the punters have paid for the tickets and are determined to have fun. Done a few now, then you can pop yourself on youtube and give faithful blog followers a bit of a laugh……and fame?  Well,  there’s is always tomorrow…

One of the acts at The Punters Revenge. Thank you,  thank you all those lovely people at The Greys and we all raised a goodly sum for The Martlets.

See light verse for My poetic pelvic floor, Moth invasion and A panic attack

We always loved the West Pier, not least because we performed in ‘Oh What a Lovely War’on it with our marionettes in the 60′s,  but also for its architectural elegance, its sheer grace and dignity.

I remember attending elaborate dinners that the trust put on at The Grand, taking part in the fundraising auctions. Then there were trips, with hard hats, around its then usable remains. Of course the volunteers were dedicated but there seemed to be a hierarchy of people with promises and counter promises. In the end I think endless delays and internal politics gave the time for arson and intrigue to win the  day.  I often wondered what happened to all the funds we all managed to raise with nothing to show for it!

So to ‘Dear Mr Millionaire,  Yes please,  get on with it and do something incredible with the poor old lady. Sincerely, a supporter.

I hope I will still be around to see this brave new  venture and  now that we live down here, I might even tempt our ‘old soldier’  marionettes,  out of retirement and to be there at the opening.

My poem about the pier is already on the home page, so I’ll add the visual images film  ’The Dance of Destruction’ on this one.

Well this has got to be my year! The year of the dragon at last.

Now that bodes well for my eldest son who was born in the year of the dragon too. He has started his own business as a  Sports and Holistic Masseur in Biggin Hill and is also a hynotherapist, so all those with injuries, needing revitalising, or with fear of flying or weight issues get down there.  End of commercial.

Now where was I?    Yes, dragons. I love them!  My mother was always keen on them too, she collected bits of china with dragons, usually saucers,  but she also hand built dragons in clay. which were much admired by a lecturer at the Tate!

However her dragons always worried me a bit, most of them had lolling tongues and in my opinion some seemed to have lost a bit of their fight, rather like the way she was herself at the time.

But now I have learned there are several types of dragon and I think this is the water dragon year,  while I  am a metal dragon! But that is a minor issue, if all goes well I might accumulate my potential care home fees for instance. I’ll need sacks and sacks of  pound coins in those little plastic bags they have in banks.

from my ‘The Bus Pass’ poem (see monologues)

‘I’ll lobby politicians

refuse to go in care.

Would they swop their lot for mine?

I shouldn’t think they’d dare.’

Alas, metal in the shape of gold bars has always eluded me. If money is the sign of success. I’m a failure!. I’m more likely to be found buying things in charity shops!  And then I didn’t marry money either – ‘typical’ I hear my mother saying from the heavens.

So I  opened my fortune cookie. £1 for ten in Lidl or Tesco! Can fortune be so cheap?

Whow. Mine implies I am about to discover the secret of happiness.  So fellow dragons, let’s take the hint, forget all the crap, to be optimistic, industrious,  carve out a new career! Or in my case,  maybe not… I’ll  just sit back write a few poems, make a few more films for youtube and enjoy the perilous journey of life as usual!

Don’t miss My poetic pelvic  floor and other such nonsense under Light Verse – see header.