n quentin woolf

musical minds: a social documentary uk premiere

Kate Rowles’ new 30 minute social documentary film ‘Musical Minds’ will be
premiered at the short film night at London’s Candid Galleries in the
Candid Projection Room:

Filmed during her 4 month artist residency at a community centre for
people with mental health difficulties in Ilford, Essex, Musical Minds
charts the personal motivations and musical aspirations of service users
attending the community centre’s music group. Hidden talents emerge as they
sing about their lives, and the important role such community centres play
in the everyday lives of those with mental health difficulties soon becomes
apparent.

Date: Thursday 15 April 2010

Time: 7.00pm

Location: Candid Galleries, Candid Projection Room, 3 Torrens Street,
Angel (directly behind the Angel tube station), London.

Entry Price: Free! ALL ARE WELCOME!

Websites: http://www.candidarts.com/cpr/
http://www.candidarts.com/

For more information about Kate Rowles Artist Filmmaker please visit
www.katerowles.com

a new listener

Of all the editions of The Arts Show we’ve done so far, this week’s was far and away the one that left me feeling most like a listener rather than the presenter. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not as though previous guests have been hard work or anything – quite the reverse, but when a show comes along in which the conversation flows, the guests are lovely, warm people who read poems to you, and the musical acts are of the sort of high calibre they were this week – well, it’s a treat.

Julia Bird

The thing that impressed me most about Julia Bird, apart from her beautifully observed and very funny poetry, was her sheer endurance. This is a director whose work is taking her to all points of the compass, I think I remember that Newcastle followed Exeter on her list of gigs, and in between putting in the miles she is also responsible for getting the shows up and running each time at a new venue with its own quirks and challenges. Julia’s a believer in high production values too, an outlook which no doubt does nothing to ease her workload. When I asked Julia whether she does the driving too she said she does not – did I detect a flicker of guilt there? I fancy so. Julia’s career has been almost entirely about promoting poetry, her present UK wide tour aims to introduce new audiences to poetry, a goal which I am sure will be realised. If it isn’t, it won’t be for want of trying.

Kate Rowles

I have to confess when I first came across Kate Rowles I was somewhat sceptical about her artistic choices. From the descriptions I’d read it sounded rather like an artist passing home movies off as something of a higher order, but perhaps that’s the philistine in me reacting.

Why shouldn’t the genre of the home film have aspirations of its own? Perhaps a drip feed of You’ve Been Framed style blunders has convinced us that home film is the medium of the buffoon or the sloshed wedding guest and no more. Kate Rowles aims to change all that and is nine films into a project that, as soon as she started to explain it, convinced me that there is hope after all. Her projects are carefully structured in advance, are full of clever conceits and stem from a love for her family that is simple and sound. Dad has even made his directorial debut recently. The home movies – historical documents on the personal level – as Kate sees them are best described in her own words. Well worth a listen, but then I would say that, wouldn’t I?

Jasmine Cooray

There was more poetry from my final guest Jasmine Cooray whom I recently ran into at The Book Club Boutique, Soho. At that gig she was reading How The Tiger Got Its Stripes, and that poem, like the ones she shared on this week’s show drew heavily from some of the darker parts of personal experience, weaving pain and hope together with the outlook of children to great effect. It would be strange not to remark that at the age of 23 Jasmine has already trained as an actor, established a series of London writing workshops, founded a popular poetry night in Brighton and is now channelling her artistic work into becoming an art therapist – there’s nothing like keeping busy. Jasmine’s poetry is brilliant, and so too is her telling of it – she really understands how to engage an audience and does so without the use of a script. The way her eye language connects with her listeners adds a whole extra layer to an already layered piece of writing. If you get a chance to see Jasmine live, perhaps at her Brighton gig, Floetics, do jump on it.

So I was basically entranced, as you may be able to tell, by the guests this week and then came the musical offerings from World Service Project and Ola Eysymontt. Each piece mature and sophisticated, the product of talent, graft and inspiration – but music is never well served by being reduced to words – do give it a listen.

music mash

Children of Comoros

Whilst it’s not unusual to welcome onto the show guests whose artistic practice extends across several platforms, it’s less commonplace to meet artists whose work is unaffected and commercially viable, however this was exactly the deal this week on The Arts Show as I met Paul Skawinski and Mick Frangou. Paul, or Paulski, as he prefers to be known, has arrived here on these shores from Poland and his journey to London has been Whittington-esque: he’s been homeless and penniless (at one point he had to sell his guitar for food money) but has unswervingly followed his ideals and is now establishing quite a fan base for his fusion music (I use the term fusion here not in the jazz sense but literally, for it is a fusion of influences as diverse as grunge, jazz and electronica, defying any ready-made description). Paulski himself is a likeable enough cove, rocking up to the studios in attire that was one part romany to two parts buccaneer.

Paulski

Paul is very much the sort of person with whom one might while away the odd hour or three enjoying good music, looking at abstract art and sticking it to The Man. These things can go either way of course, but I don’t think there’s much affectation with Paulski.

There does seem to be, however, a need to knock down walls, whether the barriers between musical styles, hierarchical structures (“I always seem to say the wrong thing” Paul confesses) or the line between found items and art. Happily he also seems to have stumbled upon a way to turn his work into something commercial. In the interview we discussed the, at first surprising, but with a moment’s thought, obvious application for Paulski’s slide work, one that could be a nice little earner.

Sugardrum

Mick too has, by luck it would seem, discovered a relatively lucrative outlet for his natural artistic compulsion. The combination of silent film and live music holds wide appeal as it turns out, and whilst I am sure that Mick would be putting music to Nosferatu irrespective of financial considerations, it seems there’s a quid or two in it as well. We talked plenty about the musical side of things in the show and indeed this week seemed to be an almost entirely musical event, with great contributions from Children of Comoros and Sugardrum thrown into the mix. But I was especially interested in what Mick had to say about his approach towards visual art.

Ballpoint

He’s long been a biro artist and the more I thought about what that means, the more I realised how many of us instinctually take the first step in that career path without thinking about it while we’re on the phone or in a meeting, not that I’m suggesting Mick’s art, with its cruciform theme, is doodling – far from it – but in the same way that many of us like to hum a tune, but only a few go on to training our voices and learning to fully express ourselves in song, so even fewer develop this particular art form using these particular materials. I wonder why that should be – maybe the implement in question, the ball point pen, is so strongly associated with the prosaicness of work and study and shopping lists that it seems silly to make art from it.

Mick Frangou

So in fact maybe a connection between these two artists which is stronger that their having happened upon commercial viability, is their ability to make beautiful art from the most commonplace of items, bits of sellotape, ball point pens, and their willingness to fuse musical styles in an exciting and fresh way that celebrates, rather than swallows, up the constituent influences – and is mighty easy on the ears to boot.

Listen to this edition of the Arts Show

r.i.p.p.c.

Sarah Ruff

As any fool knows, a system is only as strong as its weakest part. Combine that with the inherent weakness of any system in which one part is of exponentially greater value to the process than all the others – the P.A. who knows where to find everything; the specialist part; the secret ingredient that gives the dish its tang – and you have a functional formula for disaster to which the radio station would have done well this week to pay heed. We’re very much in the territory of eggs and baskets, here.  In short, the station’s computer broke.  Yes, I know what you’re thinking. One computer for all that output? Well no, not exactly. The bedroom of the average child of five has at least fourteen computers in it of one sort or another; clearing out any domestic closet is, in my experience, a lesson in the evolution of technology (the further into the darkness one delves, the increasingly bulky, and simpler, the instruments become, until, somewhere towards the back, you start running into 18th Century loom computers driven by holes punched in bits of card, piled up underneath half-empty tins of Dulux and that bit of carpet you’ve been saving for a rainy day).  But the station has computers. It has them in abundance, and yet for some reason a sort of informational drift had occurred and everything that was of any importance to the broadcasting of radio programs had wound up on this one particular machine, a fragile old-timer from the mid-nineties: an object more closely related to Turing’s code-breaking hardware than Jobs’ I-pad.

Three Colours

Such technologies become diva-ish as they age. I’m minded of certain of my relatives who were  perpetually convinced of the imminence of their own demise and would refuse to make plans beyond the Wednesday after next, on the basis that they probably wouldn’t live that far into the future, despite there being nothing actually wrong with them. So it was that The Computer had an extravagant fit of the vapors as we got ready to start recording on Monday morning; and so it was that we ignored it.  Turns out we should have listened.  As if to spite us, The Computer, most indecently, dropped dead on the spot.  With it went the software we used to record the Arts Show, all the station idents, the music for the start and end of the show, the components used to make the weekly events listing, my notes for the interviews and our connection to the World Wide Web.  I stood with several station techs, immobilized and horror-struck by the realisation of what had happened. As we stood there, a knock came on the studio door.  ”Hello,” said Sarah Ruff. “I’m your first guest.”

Lovescandal

If somehow the Arts Show does reach you this week, you can rest assured that this product has been worked for.  Every noteof music you hear will have been the result of jerry-rigging and making-do. The words you hear will have been transferred from system to system, program to program, and divided by the number first thought of.  It was thought best not to photograph our guests in the studio this week, on account of all the boogle-eyed perspiring technicians who would be clearly visible in the background, clutching spanners and bits of circuitry, so the photos you see here will be from the guests’ personal collections instead.  If you want to capture the true spirit of this week’s Arts Show, dear Listener, rush out and bag yourself a wind-up transistor radio, hole up in your coal-shed and listen by candlelight. Our systems are down! Long live the system!

In the midst of all this, some guests came and talked about their art. What a lovely bunch of people they were. Sarah Ruff had plenty to say about being a clown and I was sorry we didn’t have more time to unpack the art form.  Some of what she’s doing sounds distinctly un-clownish, and whilst it doesn’t bear reduction sufficiently to discuss it here, it is conceptually intriguing – perhaps even a little demented – and growing in stature over time. Her show, called Hairy Mary, for reasons we did not establish, does not sound like easy entertainment, but that’s the whole point of Ruff’s work: it sits between genres and doesn’t allow one to be complacent – like a dark Bobby Baker (and Bobby Baker can be dark enough).

Lee Berwick

Lee Berwick (who I realise, bears more than a fleeting resemblance to John Locke from Lost) is an audiophile. Not an .mp3 or a .wav, you understand: he likes listening to things make noises – bridges, oil storage tanks, rivers – the bigger the better.  His eyes light up when he gets to talking about listening to engineers taking angle grinders to the doors of a tank in Sweden which seemed to be his auditory Mecca – he makes regular pilgrimages there. Have a listen if you want to hear how to turn a bridge into a piece of music.  Lee’s Damascene moment came when he realized the uses of computers in making music. He hasn’t looked back. As we talked, I found myself unable to resist reflecting that we appeared to have come full circle on the ability-to-make-music-with-computers front. Our own PC was now producing a plume of smoke.

Carmina Masoliver-Marlow

It was a pleasure to meet Carmina Masoliver-Marlow.  We don’t often invite people onto the show who are at the very beginning of their artistic careers, for obvious reasons.  But the integrity of Carmina’s poetry persuaded me to make an exception. I’m hoping to get at least one of her pieces loaded onto this blog so that you can check it for yourself, and so that in the event of our technological ship going down there’ll some fitting tribute by which to remember this edition of the Arts Show. So, fingers crossed. With a pinch of luck we might get the show out to you.  Our show this week made about people, by people, using their ingenuity to work around computers.  Who would have thought?  Humans: The strongest element of the system.

Listen to this edition of The Arts Show

making changes

Elephant Foot

I went for a wander around the Olympic site in Stratford before this week’s show. It was a sunny day, a glorious taste of spring, and rather than scurry to the studio, running a neck-and-neck race with the second hand of my watch, I instead left home an hour early and strolled. If you haven’t been over that way yet, it’s well worth a look. The main structures are in place; it seems like they’re putting on the finishing touches already (although with two years still to go, there must be plenty more to do). General consensus seems to be that the works are ahead of schedule, much to everyone’s surprise. As it is, you can wander around a pedestrian track and get a close-to view of the giant cranes, the peculiar industrial beasts, and the army of workers dressed in fluorescent clothes who remind me of the Dozers from Fraggle Rock. We’ve been off-air for six weeks and I fear that this jaunt is the sort of thing one only does when one is coming fresh to the work routine; it’s frightening how repetition makes you blind. So one of my resolutions for this new season of The Arts Show has nothing to do with the show itself at all, rather that my tos and froms won’t be conducted in the tie-over-the-shoulder fashion of season one.

We kicked off in our new slot (6-7 on a Tuesday evening since you ask) with a selection of guests each of whom is contributing something important to our understanding of our fellow wo/man. The directors of Elephant Foot, Ben Charland and Laura Burdon–Manley, are opening their new show “Wealth” in the coming days: it’s a show about nothing less than the end of money and about the effects of wealth and indeed greed (which recent economic events may have allowed us to forget are in fact very different things). They take, as one of their characters, someone who’s been directly affected by the Rwandan genocide, a topic which must be handled skilfully and with great sensitivity if one is to avoid accusations of exploitation and sensationalism. Having spoken to the Elephant Foot guys, I’ve no doubt that there’s an intellectual rigour behind their use of this event and that they don’t select their themes fancifully. It seems odd then, to remark that we had a lot of fun making the interview – which had more to do with my inability to deliver an introduction line (oh boy, how fast one gets rusty) than the subject matter of the interview itself. Laura and Ben are both well able and keen to articulate their art form (handy for a radio show) nor have I seen two people better able to provide a selection of dramatic tableau when asked to pose for a picture. If you’ve half a mind to go and see “Wealth”, give it a go and expect to be challenged.

Roisin Murray

We’d tried to get Roisin Murray onto the show last year, and had booked her in just moments before learning that the station needed some revamp time. She made her belated appearance this week, and it was well worth the wait. All of this week’s guests had uncomfortable truths to discuss and all of them emphasised the connection between the large scale of the topics they were examining – from the Rwandan genocide to Downs Syndrome to the Palestine-Israeli conflict, and the personal aspects of these various challenges and tragedies. Roisin talked about the immediacy of the act of telling a story, the importance of being able to look your audience in the eye; her words resonated with the observations of the others – Ben Charland’s that a theatre actor is playing his part just a few feet from the audience, Fiona Yaron-Field that healing can come from looking in the eyes of your supposed foe and seeing that he is indistinguishable from you. I was struck by the way that irrespective of the age of the art form, from new-fangled photography to the age old oral story form, these people are using art to engender understanding where other modes of communication have broken down.

Fiona Yaron-Field

I guess I’m predisposed to finding an earnestness for one’s art charming. Roisin, I found, had something of the worldly, quirky charm of Pam Ayres, although she looks and sounds nothing like her; Fiona Yaron-Field’s charm works in a very different way. Unlike Roisin, Ben and Laura, who are forever in the lime light, Fiona shudders at the thought of being in front of the lens rather than behind it – she just about tolerated me taking a publicity shot for this page. Fiona has, for me, the air of someone with a mission to accomplish from which she will not be deterred, but there is none of the steeliness that that observation could imply, nor do I think  she conceptualizes herself in that way – she is much humbler than that. Fiona’s photography is stunning. I would definitely recommend you get hold of a copy of Uncertain States - you will be impressed. The pictures from the Shifting Perspectives exhibition, too, are captivating. I recall that one of Fiona’s influences is Nan Goldin; a leaf through the images here shows that influence at play in one of two of the portraits, to exciting effect. Fiona’s current show is on the South Bank, which would make it an easy diversion the next time I’m wandering back from giving a class near Waterloo; indeed, it could form part of my new project of being a little more alive to what’s around me. As this week’s show reminded me, what’s around us is at times truly remarkable.

Listen to this edition of The Arts Show

material issues

Silvia Ziranek

It feels like no sooner are we back from our Christmas holidays than the Arts Show comes to another holiday; this time because the station is about to undergo something of a transformation. Xstream East is upgrading both its equipment and its output, and in order to prepare for the changes, the station’s closing for all of February. Thus, this week’s show was our last for a few weeks. We ended on a high note: the calibre of guests and performers alike was exceptionally high.

I am what I wear

Silvia Ziranek, whose form of live art is not easy to explain, even after an hour-long interview on the subject – it involves clothing and costume - was by far the day’s most colourful visitor: a glance at her picture from the day should suffice to make the case. Silvia is a polished act, and a veteran one, too. I chose not to push the question about the span of her artistic career – we had quite enough ground to cover already – but there were enough clues in the conversation to suggest a good few years of sartorial art being behind our conversation. I’m afraid it could be tempting, on first sight, to be dismissive of Ziranek; is her all-pink wardrobe not somewhat flippant? Well, no; in fact there is an authenticity to it. My guest quickly established a heredity for her clothing-centred form of expression - her mother was a tailor – as well as a deep-seated belief in one’s ability to wear one’s history, one’s selfhood. Ziranek (the name is Polish) read out texts that left one in no doubt of her sincerity, and in her belief of the power of clothing. I enjoyed our conversation, and found Ziranek herself at times nothing short of inspiring. She was at her most captivating when swept away by the theme of the plight of the live artist, on which she spoke with a passion. She was indignant that a gallery cleaner should receive better remuneration than the artists whose work inhabits the space. And yet, the cleaner must wear overalls.

As with my first guest, Alexander Wendt’s interview explored an area we’ve never previously covered: this time, sonic

Alexander Wendt

art. Often not music, you understand, but rather sounds created or sampled and mixed to form pieces that challenge and surprise. Wendt, a lecturer in the subject, talked easily and in depth about the techniques that allow him to create, marshall and purvey these sounds; from Californian architecture to micro-engineering; vinyl recordings to classical instrumentation. His knowledge is clearly encyclopaedic; his commitment complete. The comment I thought most telling, though, came before we started recording, when I asked him what his current project was. Bringing up two children, he said.

And then came Jennifer Kavanagh. I have to say (and here I run the risk of making my guest blush) I find Jennifer Kavanagh extraordinarily attractive. There are some people – very few, I think – who are both the centre of gravity wherever they happen to be, and who radiate a sense of calm and positivity: Jennifer Kavanagh is such a person. Whether this aura is a product of the many important community projects with which she has been involved or vice versa, I don’t know. That she is writing about the importance of home is entirely appropriate, however. It is a topic of great importance, whose complexity and subtlety neccessitate similar attributes in the questing author – these, she has. Also, Kavanagh, an attentive listener, has experienced very different sorts of home, has worked among homeless people, and has helped eastenders, both new and established, to a better standard of living: she has a range of reference others may lack. Her book – The O of Home – and the talks and musical gigs relating to it, are created by someone who not only knows her stuff, but has processed the information with sympathy for its sources and without the slightest condescension. I urge you to catch Kavanagh if you can.

Jennifer Kavanagh

The show was already my favourite ever, and that was before the wonderful selection of music it was my pleasure to be able to share. No description offered here could substitute for giving the tracks a listen. The acts performing on this week’s show – Halogen; My Second Head; The Penny Serenade – each has an idiosyncratic, rich, sophisticated sound; I’m hoping to get to play them again when The Arts Show returns, in March.

Listen to this edition of The Arts Show

tune in

This week’s edition of The Arts Show was a musical extravaganza. It’s the first time on the show’s history that music has featured as part of every guest’s interview and it’s not something we’ll be doing every week – there’s

Mikey Kirkpatrick

to much else going on in this fine city – but this one-off was a huge success. It was such a treat to have a one on one with Mikey Kirkpatrick, the flautist composer/producer whose control of several flutes (yes, at one point flutes plural, one each side of his mouth) was breath taking. He demonstrated techniques such as over breathing – the thing you’re not supposed to do during recorder lessons at school – and, to my surprise – this is a classically trained musician after all – used the recorder like a kazoo, singing into it, humming into it, playing the side of his face with his hand whilst producing nuanced and exciting music. The same is also true of his Native American pipe (no, not that kind); he explained that it’s possible to bend the sound by passing the fingers across the hole in the top – instead of a clean note you hear a phased one, and very beautiful it was too. The audio treats on pre-record were just as exciting and include a drum and flute combo that achieves things you’d never have thought possible. I’d urge you to give it a listen. Mikey himself was about as enthusiastic as they come; whilst his explanations and explorations of his craft are comprehensive and delivered with a gusto that could almost become overbearing, it keeps his passion in check and offers some of the most engrossing contextualisation of an instrument I’ve heard.

A very different sort of music forms one half of the partnership between choreographer Mel Simpson and guitarist Sean Bright of The Penny

Mel Simpson and Sean Bright

Serenade. Their partnership which has its roots in Mel performing with the band as tap dancing sheep – yes, you heard me right – is about bringing an old style of entertainment up to date. In the interview Sean wondered if there wasn’t some question over the artistry of entertainment, whether stuff that’s made to be fun has any artistic value. The debate is an interesting one. I’m glad to see that both Sean and Mel seem to be comfortable with their form and are engaging and funny when talking about it. On The Arts Show I get to see lots of partnerships in action and it’s clear to me that theirs is solid; like some of the musical techniques employed by The Penny Serenade, the 13 person line-up looks built to last.

Penny Pepper

The musical aspect of Penny Pepper’s act is an accompaniment, an extremely important one, perhaps even a fundamental one, but as Penny herself says, the words come first. Jo Cox’s cello sounded really good, but then I’ve always had a soft spot for the cello. There was also plenty of tambourine rattling and whooping adding dimensions to Penny’s performance. Formally, they seemed to sit somewhere between songs and performance poetry and I enjoyed the sardonic wit that kept resurfacing in Penny’s pieces as well as the naughtier sides and the twinkle in her voice. Can one have a twinkle in one’s voice? Listen to Penny’s work and you’ll be convinced that the answer is yes.

Then, in between the guests talking about music, playing music, extolling the

Jo Cox

sublime recollection. I’m a huge fan of Jack Hurd’s music – I’ve worked with him before, on performed works for which I’ve written and he’s composed, so the revelation of his CD Obvious – an album of great variety in the pop/rock mode of The Divine Comedy is, by turns, hilarious and poignant, angsty and brash and very much about the stuff that goes on in Jack’s head. The track that we played on the show was one of the slower paced, pensive, nostalgic tracks and also my favourite from the album and perhaps a good counter point to the drum thrashing and tambourine shaking elsewhere on the show. Once again, I had the opportunity to meet a diverse bunch of artists and talk to them about something close to their heart, for which privilege I remain grateful. If our broadcast hadn’t been delayed due to technical issues at the studio, we would have had, I think, complete harmony.

portraits of the artists

landscape by David Harker

The first day back at work is always a sobering affair. Those oh-so-familiar surroundings, the problem with the desktop you hoped might have done the decent thing and gone away over the Christmas break, but for all my bleating there is a reassurance in the solidity of objects; the heavy presenter’s mike on its articulated arm, the frequency graphics on the computers, the (squeaky) office chair. The station was a buzz with an early spring clean underway. There is a glass panel through which I can see into another studio and I was treated to the sight of one of the station techs, a fairly burly fellow it must be said, hoovering to Queen’s I Want To Break Free.
Our first show of the year started as I hope we’ll carry on. The musical contributions were as varied as they were original; I particularly enjoyed Model Society’s ‘City of Romance’ a salute to a variety of British influences from the past 20 years and yet idiosyncratic and full of energy. It reminded me a little of the Stone Roses epic adolescent lust for life and the Smith’s Urban spirit was in the mix as well. I am looking forward to hearing more from this band. ROPHONE, meanwhile, offered an entirely different musical experience. I like being challenged – I don’t mean trying to get past piss-poor pop lyrics (the linguistic contortions song writers put themselves

Telegraph by David Harker

through to come up for a rhyme for ‘self’ are usually hilarious and pitiable, and invariably result in some variation of ‘don’t leave me on a shelf’, a weak metaphor if ever there was one). No I mean coming ear-to-track with a piece that doesn’t do what you want it to, makes no apologies for the situation. ‘ROPHONE Raveup’ is a harsh alarm of a piece which seems to test the listener, and yet I found myself liking the subtleties of the evolution of the song. I remember Bjork singing along to a car alarm; that piece shared some of this track’s qualities. I am looking forward to more from ROPHONE. Geoff Cotton gave us a comic swipe at anglo-franc relations, which I must admit had me on the edge of my seat somewhat. Was he going to cross the acceptability line? Was the talk of mistresses going to be suitable for broadcast? Where was it all going? Happily there were some very funny moments in Geoff’s track, not least the invitation from his Gaelic alter-ego to f-off on the Eurostar (context is everything for that gag) and I was really rather taken aback by the authenticity of his French accent, which seemed all to plausible. You could almost hear the Gaelic shrugs.
The guest list was one-third shorter than usual, owing to a snow related

David Harker Himself

disaster in the West Midlands; happily this resulted in a longer interview with artist David Harker. It’s one of the most satisfying I’ve done so far for the show. At the beginning of the interview I knew embarrassingly little about the genre of landscape representation and through considered responses and careful explanation of his craft, Harker led me through perspective, pointillism, Peter De Wint, Constable, architecture, Japanese and Chinese graphic art, and the challenges facing the emerging artist. I

landscape by David Harker

found him thoughtful and engaging. Some of his work, including the picture ‘telegraph’ which we discussed on the show, are included here. Harker, resident of Pinner, is planning exhibitions later in the year, I will keep you posted.
The big project for Fat Content Theatre’s Daniel Holme is The Man I Cure. My imagination has been captured by the idea of using a smell in theatre and also by the concept of institutionalising the theatre audience prior to the performance. For a show set in a hospital these seem like both clever shortcuts and powerful locators; oftentimes a smell can act as a memory trigger in a way that no

Daniel Holme

other sensory data could. You’ll have to listen to Daniel’s explanation of the show to learn more as its complex plot and ambitious thematic concerns don’t bear summarizing here. Suffice to say that The Man I Cure sounds as though it should be a thought provoking, diverting and surreal experience. I wish it the sweet smell of success.

And so 2010 is underway, I hope you’ll join us through the year as we probe the arts world and bring you the inside track.

Listen to this edition of The Arts Show

to be and not to be

The Arts Show this week went into hibernation for Christmas and New Year (we’re back on air on the 12th January), there is an end-of-term feeling to

Nominique Bonarjee

the various groups, shows and courses that I run and many of them are closing with celebrations of one kind or another, whereas The Arts Show came to the end of its 2009 run on a somewhat disjointed note.

I think it was a problem of categorisation. Dominique Baron Bonarjee for instance; a seasoned performer who has clearly spent much time reflecting her art and is able to articulate those reflections engagingly and is, to some extent, defined by what she is not. She is, despite having been a dancer, emphatically no longer one (movement is one of her main modes of communication). She works in other forms too, but is not happy to identify herself directly with those either. In fact, Dominique’s quest for a form took up much of the interview. Unusually, her position is of one seeking to create a formal category of her own rather than subscribe to any extant one. This sense of not belonging, Dominique said, is perhaps a part of her psyche and the fact that, being of both Indian and French stock she finds herself unable to identify fully with either culture. This concern about form did not seem to be merely an intellectual pursuit a very real anxiety and one that Dominique is working through with her art. I think sometimes that that cathartic aspect of art – on a personal level – can sometimes be pushed aside by the need to present oneself as a strong, resourceful artist. I think it’s rather important to acknowledge its validity.

I don’t mean to suggest that using art for this reason is somehow a weakness- quite the opposite – looking for answers, having a personal stake in the outcome of an investigation is often the thing that elevates cleverness and craft to work that reaches out.

There is an easy link here, between that subject and the basis of Clive Niall’s

Clive Niall

day job, that of teaching art to youngsters in hospitals. Clive came on the show, however, not to talk about his visual art but the word based art that he has been developing. Now, I should clarify that word ‘developing’. For one of his projects, Clive has lighted on a particularly unusual way of approaching the creation and promotion of a book. I’ll let you listen to the show to see what I mean. Suffice to say that Clive’s process makes it somewhat difficult to say anything about the piece in development. I confess, I am also a little worried that despite his reversal of production norms he runs the risk of being one of those authors that makes a lot of noise about what they are going to do and then doesn’t do it – apparently that aspect of writing has the ability to remain intact. But there is an urgency about Clive that makes me believe he will get his project of the ground. As he mentioned several times he considers the years to be against him and he’s no waster of time. Perhaps, working in a hospital, one is less able to ignore the relentlessness of time i our comparative feebleness. I shall be checking in with Clive to see how he’s getting on.

And so, two guests in, I had spoken to a dancer who is no longer a dancer

Barbara and Aude in action

and a writer who is not yet a writer. I was starting to feel nonplussed. My final guests were Aude Fondard and Barbara Bianchi, a pair whose collaboration consists of a dialogue between words and paintings. As best I can understand, this was achieved through live readings of poetry inspired by Barbara’s pastel triptych, lighting being used to emphasise different parts of the visual work as particular words and phrases were read out. So far, so good. The nonplussedness however, quickly resurfaced, as I attempted to probe some of the thinking behind this work. In her description of the project, for example, Barbara had discussed a ‘tug of power between the wild and the divine’. When asked about this opposition, a thorough sense of bewilderment settled upon everyone involved. Several other questions I posed fell flat, too. I began to wonder whether I was, in fact, at home tucked up in bed on the night before the show, imagining all of this in little-cloud-shaped thought bubbles. Appropriately enough for a piece whose concern is the integration of the visual and the aural, the problem seemed to be one of verbalising a piece of visual art that spoke for itself. Perhaps the problem was that the painting not only couldn’t speak but shouldn’t be made to do so. That, while holding a dialogue with it illuminated it, attempting to translate it into words directly was an ask too far. It’s a healthy reminder that when we talk about art, we’re not experiencing the art, but representative words, signifiers. Ce n’est pas une pipe, after all. Ah yes, a pipe that isn’t a pipe: the perfect conclusion to an enjoyable but surreal recording.

Clockwork Quartet

I very much enjoyed the lurching carnivalesque song-story form Clockwork Quartet. There is something somewhat ringmasterish about the male vocal track and I love the way that that contrasted with the smooth female voice. Joshua Willis was a last minute entrant onto the show and was unfortunately curtailed; the audio-file containing his track was 20 seconds shorter than it needed to have been. A shame, because I was enjoying his acoustic take on current affairs. We’ll have to invite him on again.

Well, that’s it. 2009, in terms of The Arts Show at least, is a done deal. We’ve been blessed with a host of great guests over the course of our recording. The variety and high quality of the many, many different artistic endeavours cannot fail to impress anyone casting an ear or eye in their direction. It’s a privilege to be able to present members of this vast community each week and I’m looking forward to being able to do it all over again in 2010. Thanks for listening, for following the blog, and don’t forget that it’s all about your support, so if you’ve enjoyed or been inspired by the people you’ve heard on The Arts Show, do get out there and hear them play, see their art, laugh at their comedy and generally get involved. Have a great Christmas and a happy New Year.

Listen to this edition of  The Arts Show.

recycle, restore

random DJ - nice bloke, no idea who he is

The studio felt far fuller than usual this week in part due to the bustle of performers, including performance poet Fran Isherwood and the a capella singers of the Living Structures project, warming up. A few family members of the guests were forming small unofficial entourages too, so that the ‘greenroom’ was jam-packed.

A word first of all on those who weren’t in the studio at all: musical acts Coppers for Karma and The Dualist. Both of these bands have strong East End links and the sounds they make have a real raw edginess to them that

Ying Tan and Amy McDonnel

grabs you by the ears and fills you full of lust for life. But there was a lot of live music going on in this week’s show too. A medieval poem provided the inspiration for a piece of traditional Chinese music played by Ying Tan and Amy McDonnell. This piece-easily recognisable to any Chinese person-formed the basis for their multi-media arts instillation at The Roundhouse in Camden, which they are preparing for early 2010. Ying explained that it’s played on an instrument which is box shaped and sits on a table-top but works like a guitar, the strings are plucked and as far as I understood, there are variants, some of which have a fret board, some of which do not. I’m always on the look out for new i-dents for the show, maybe it’s time for a traditional Chinese one. I was fascinated Ying and Amy’s intention to restore Chinese cultural history to the land from whence it came. China is in the thrall of a pop-art fad with artists chasing the dollar in a manner evoking Warhol and The Factory and according to Ying, it needs artists like her to function as a sort of cultural

Carlos' shoes

storage facility, celebrating the old and returning it to China when the pop-art phase gives way to prog-rock and its interest in older forms. There are some clear links between this art and than of Corlos Franklin, an engaging and pink-shoed Colombian. His art takes many different forms, and his hobby-horse is seeing crafts established as part of the fine arts cannon. If lights switching on and off and people standing on a plinth can be included, it would be hard to imagine the embroidery, for instance, could not-I hope we’re not at a stage when skill

Carlos Franklin

and technical ability are actively discouraged. The theme of the distance between people in the UK, their aloofness and desire not to be touched, both literally and socially, came up several weeks ago via Mismis Tshaba; Carlos noted the same phenomenon. It’s true that when I watch interlocutors from respectively the Northern and Southern parts of Europe there’s a dynamic discomfort between them as they try to find a comfortable proximity, the Southerner advancing the Northerner retreating.

The interaction between two Northern Europeans-myself and Klaus Kruse-

Klaus Kruse

was thrown into a new context as our interview progressed. Like all my guests this week, Klaus is an engaging, charming and earnest individual working in several forms simultaneously. His Living Structures collective comprises artists from various disciplines and Verity Standern who is head of music was the lead a capellist. They sounded great. If you haven’t yet given the show a listen, I urge you to. The themes behind Klaus’s work were engaging and his technique of using the audience as part of the instillation bringing out a new performance each time, while by no means original, seemed to be being handled deftly and to good effect. Living Structures’ new piece Biosphere builds on the idea of cycles in life, one of which was Klaus’s experience of evacuating his bowels whilst living in a lorry as he has for the past 13 year.

Verity, TD, Eli

‘There’s no toilet’, he explains, ‘I have to shit on a piece of paper, roll it up, put in a carrier bag and take it down to a bin’. This process in itself I had no real issue with, icky, yes, but thankfully I had already finished by breakfast sausage baguette. But it got me thinking as the interview progressed, about what else wasn’t available in a lorry and it struck that without the plumbing for a toilet there would presumably be no plumbing for a hand basin either. Klaus was enthusiastic and charismatic, and obviously has the respect of his colleagues in the project. After the interview I contemplated shaking him as warmly by the hand as I had done on his arrival. It must have been my North European reserve that made me hesitate before doing so.

Fran Isherwood

Fran Isherwood seems to have done everything that there is to be done in terms of writing and performing and both, particularly where comedy is concerned. The assembled guests loved her pieces but the Tommy Cooper impression was the favourite by miles. Do get along to Fran’s gig tonight if you can.

And so with all the interviews done and the guests departed the studio fell quiet once again. Until next week.

Listen to this edition of The Arts Show.