Artsmonkey Blog

I have decided that 2009, well some of it anyway, should be given over to admiring/lauding the work of creative people out there in the social media universe who’ve got something to sing about. Why virtual rather than real? Because I spent three months researching ‘Social media and the Arts’ and where else am I going to let rip some of the fruits of all that labour?

2008 ended with a memorable moment when GL Hoffman, author of the ‘What Would Dad Say?’ Blog site, took a leap of faith and emailed me a pdf of his forthcoming book ‘Dig Your Job’ Keep it or Find a New One. It’s a “not so serious career handbook” written by an astute entrepreneur and Chairman of www.JobDig.com for the US market, with the wisdom and insight of one who really does know what he’s talking about. So if you’re a student/graduate, unemployed, a dissatisfied freelancer or disenchanted with your current work status quo then this could be money well spent http://blogs.jobdig.com/wwds/dig-your-job/ you can download a pdf for approx. £5 or buy a paperback version from www.lulu.com for £8.69 https://www.lulu.com/commerce/index.php?fBuyContent=4947573 or you can purchase a Kindle (Amazon) edition for somewhere between the two. It doesn’t matter what your career path is, there really is something for everyone in ‘Dig your Job’. G.L. Is even offering free copies to Libraries – which makes him a social entrpreneur as well as businessman.

I stumbled across two writers this year and last, both very different, whose work has inspired me. Mark C. Hewitt aka MCH was running a ‘Funding your Madness course’ with The South last November and we managed to tease out of him stories of some of his inspiring ‘word-related’ projects that he dreams up himself, before approaching potential partners to work with him . This year, I’m hoping his project with BBC South comes off, as I’m looking forward to seeing Salisbury Cathedral covered in other people’s words but he’s also Artistic Director of a live literature production company ‘Lewes Live Lit’ so look out for ‘Dementia Diaries’ at this years Eastbourne Festival in April http://www.mchblank.co.uk/

@Sniffyjenkins aka Justine Kilkerr started following me on Twitter  and has been making me smile, laugh and howl with glee ever since. She’s about to publish her first book ‘Advice for Strays’ with Jonathon Cape . If you’re an aspiring writer or creative then read her blog http://amihumanyet.co.uk/ it is an honest and open retrospective and do, definitely look out for her book, if it’s anything like her tweets it will be a sound investment.

Facebook friend Doug Macfarlane; Film geek/maker/actor/director and monthly ‘guest’ on Sky TV News, has had a full-on year and he’s just messaged to say he’s off to the Sundance Film festival where he will interview/grill celebrities and film folk for the delectation of UKFilm Network suscribers. Doug is waiting on the release of his first film ‘Making it in Hollywood’, is a founding member of ’shooting people’ and also runs  the UKTheatre network, his dynamism, grit and determination sometimes exhaust me but Doug is a great example of hard work and dedication paying back dividends.

So these are the people currently at the top of my creative iceberg, I should also mention recent twitter friend, @Mikebreed. Mike is a copywriter/aspiring film writer based in Dorking (Reed Words Ltd. - LOL!) and it was his website http://www.reedwords.co.uk/reedwordsblog/reedmiscellany/misc.html that made me think about who I admire and what it is about their work that inspires me. I was both entertained and informed by his blog article on Puccini’s and their marketing campaign I can see why he does what he does.

Oh, alright then, just one more. Do you remember the Tanker’ ‘Ice Prince’ that left a swathe of the Souths coast covered in five thousand tons of timber. Well Worthing does and this year artist Dan Thompson aka @artistsmakers is narrating a workshop to mark the first anniversary of the ‘Ice Prince’ disaster, hence Jan 24^th sees Worthing’s one day ‘Ice Prince Festival’

Spent much of this December pulling myself away from my lap-top to ‘layer-up’ and venture forth for long walks in frost, fog and bright, ice-clear blue skies, bright red berries hanging from thorn-bush and muddied hedgerow over flown by micro-lights and gliders enjoying the glorious ‘flying’ weather that we’ve had down South. In truth I live on the edge of a City just fifteen minutes from civilisation; supermarkets, shops, bright lights etc. In past years, Christmas has meant the ‘lighting of a fire’ of necessity, because we only had economy seven heating when we moved in which meant the house was warm from 2am til 5am and freezing for the rest of the time and it never felt very ‘economical’ when the bill arrived.

This year, we accepted an invitation to a ‘Patch Party’ at the local pub (Army slang for ‘our patch’ or people in the neighbourhood). Had such a good time; cosy pub, good food and bonhomie. One of our new neighbours is hoping to make a film next year so the conversation was full of creative talk (is there anyone out there who hasn’t written a film script yet?). We drove there and back in the pouring rain, a torchlit walk along a snow carpeted footpath would have been a wonderful end to such an evening… and incredibly dangerous, with a locked five bar gate, two ploughed fields and two rickety stiles to negotiate.

Anyhow, back to reality and the swift onslaught of Christmas. I know that there are many plans from Worthing to Milton Keynes for some artistic treats over the Christmas season and on into the new year. Art centres, theatres, village halls, christmas markets, churches, city centres – everyone’s getting culturally creative and there’s a lot of unusual stuff on offer, much of it for free. No. I’m not going to do the leg work for you, google “what’s on”, check out your local free paper, parish newsletter, village hall notice board to see what’s going on near you.

From panto, to pub bands, concerts, to craft fairs, to semi-naked men peforming acrobatics somewhere near you, trust me, it’s out there. Brrrrrr – I have never walked past a street theatre performance so quickly as I did when inadvertently coming across these two A. very brave or B. very stupid, street performers recently. I know there’s a recession on so times are hard, but performing in G-strings on a cold winters day ? I think most of the people crowding round, were trying to A. shield young children from the sight or B. standing ready to administer coats and gluhvein when hypothermia set in.

What will I be doing? Oh I’ll be back at my lap-top working my way through http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2008/12/14/magazine/2008_IDEAS.html?ref=magazine a clever list published by the New York Times on the best and worst ideas to come out of 2008. Right now I’m off to google the Japanese invention ‘air-bags for the elderly’ I know a certain street theatre act for whom they might come in handy.

Caught the penultimate performance of Oscar Wilde’s ‘Ideal Husband’ at Bath Theatre Royal. Another Peter Hall production sent about the country courtesy of Bill Kenright before being gently retired to make way for Panto season. We sat second row back in the stalls and what an amazing sight the whole thing was from there. The cast featured TV glory girls from the seventies and before; Carol Royle, Kate O’Mara, Fenella Fielding and it was quite something to witness these ladies close up, almost a show in itself. Their various styles of delivery all something to behold against their male counterparts more naturalistic, or in Robert Duncans case, more ‘music hall’ style. Comforting to see that big performances can still hold the audiences attention and hypnotically so in places – watching Fenella Fielding artfully fishing for her lines with a sweep of her gloved hand or inclination of her fantastically bewigged and hatted head was gripping.

The fact that commercial theatre makes money by wheeling out casts of TV favourites i.e. Tony Britton – remember ‘Father Dear Father?’ and then there’s Michael Praed (a sensitive Lord Chiltern) and Robert Duncan (charming, witty but miscast) surely means people are entertained by and therefore willing to pay to see classics performed by casts that seem to have been thrown together by virtue of the fact they will be recognised from the tele, to some extent or another. I know it’s unfair, they’ve usually got a bulky CV behind them but what a mixed bag when you see them altogether onstage.

I’m being churlish, I didn’t go for an acting masterclass and Oscar Wilde’s writing is brilliant when a light is shone on it. I’m grateful that apart from one or two lost lines the story was clear and the actors audible so I could appreciate Wilde’s wry and sharp observations of society. Bonus entertainment to see grande dames giving it their all, and to be able to sit and guess what the other members of the large cast who were all onstage at the beginning could possibly have been doing during the other two acts? It was good to see veteran rep actor Robert Aldous butlering away with aplomb right up to the fall of the curtain (or the coin, in this case) and I enjoyed James Dinsmore as the French Ambassador (I’m sure I’ll enjoy him for longer though when we see him in Jack & The Beanstalk at The Camberley Theatre later this year) and Isla Carter as a bouncy Miss Mabel (surely she is Harriet Walters daughter or niece?) although not perhaps her final wig (split ends – yuk! Must have been a long tour)

I know that the impracticalities of touring mean that ones belief must be suspended so as not to notice that Lord Chiltern and Lord Goring both have the same furniture and that the art of onstage letter writing has clearly been lost when a long note only takes up three lines on the page (picky old me, yes I know!) but when the average age of the performers means that delivery of lines is weighted and veering on ponderous there is unfortunately time to notice these things.

I’m torn, I missed the energy of pace and the sting of a more biting delivery and, if I’m honest more appropriate casting but I sort of enjoyed the whole spectacle of watching the older actors trumpet their foibles onstage. Never mind, it’s over now. What a unique experience, not my ideal theatre experience by any means– I had very strange dreams about Madame Tussauds and Carry On Films when I finally got to sleep that night. Roll on Panto.

And what started this train of thought?

Our government wants us to get out there and spend money to create a fiscal stimulus and calm the “potentially disastrous impact of the recession”. Let us be humble with our needs and our actions, let’s ensure that grand gestures are born of passion and tempered by wisdom and the obssessive, blundering behaviours that fuel our greed and selfishness are managed. Before we self-implode let’s look out for our neighbours, are they warm, will they be alone at Christmas? Do they need someone to listen to them? The man on the street begging may be surviving on a cocktail of drugs and alcohol but maybe a hot drink and a sandwich may remind him it’s not a ‘them and us’ situation and that now is the time to let in the professional support that’s out there. Does that make you recoil? It does me,  I’m rubbish at being a better person. Small steps, small acts of compassion, whatever it is, whatever you can offer. Hasn’t that got to be better than being a part of the world as represented by national news?

Steps slowly off soapbox… and falls over

Obsession however is all consuming, it destroys like the volcano and then implodes on itself. Is it obsession that drives us as a world? Obsession and greed that hand in hand walk through the world burning, pillaging to feed it’s need, it’s hunger? Here in the UK the news today is full of suicide bombers (fuelled by faith and driven by irrational belief) war atrocities (fuelled by greed, driven by hunger) retribution (fuelled by pain driven by pride) and the world-wide economic downturn (fuelled by greed driven by obsession?)

So what, I hear you yawn from the back row. Well, whilst we talk of managing our obsessions, what of humility? Increasingly people in the public eye are struggling to be humble and to say sorry, whether it’s the BBC over the Russell-Brand phonecall debacle or Hackney Local Authority over the death of Baby P. or the crush of people in job centers.

Woke up this Monday with questions:

When does passion become obsession? What tips a person over that razor sharp edge from say, admiring a celebrity into an obsessive need to know every detail of their life, search out every available photo and become a pseudo authority on the ‘object of their obsessions’ analyse every public move. What is the moment when a dispassionate distance is melted by the heat of a need to know more, pouring through magazines, internet sites, forums and chat rooms for more detail, more glimpses?

Is it the fine line between passion and obsession that draws and excites some people and scares other people off? Passion can be very attractive but unrestricted it can be overwhelming, off-putting. The strength, the voracity of the passion can be volcanic and destroy whatever stands in it’s path.

People with passion exist in all walks of life whether its passion for sport or technology or maths or history, art, furniture, houses, people…. the list stretches on into infinity. The important thing is the passion itself, that fuels and drives the possessor onwards needing to share, to convert, to inspire, to draw in, to recruit. Often with passion comes vision, sometimes people buy into it, sometimes they run from it. From Evangelism to mission to belief to unadulterated enjoyment, passion adds colour, excitement and focus to our lives. S/He who dares, wins?

Whilst the poor girl who came on to play the Harp before the match must have felt a million miles of detachment from the impatient crowd eager for the game to get going, she was a message. Music plays an important role in setting the patriotic tone of the game – allegiances are made, emotions toyed with as both the harpist, the band and choir who led the national anthems galvanise the audience, er sorry crowd, into a deeper emotional link with their team. In fact, with a bit more stage management the whole game could have left the crowd exhausted and begging for more.

Purists, I’m sure, could happily watch the game of Rugby played in a field half-way up a mountain and do without all the flim-flam but that doesn’t pay for the horrible polyester kit, sorry, I meant hi-tech, wind shear, shower proof, breathable membraneous sportwear – (whatever happened to those good, thick, quality cotton rugby shirts that actually look good on most people? ) and probably wouldn’t begin to pay the team’s nightclub bill for the celebration/commiseration party after the game to reward all the pre-match sweat, blood and tears of rigourous training.

You can tell I’m not sports orientated but I do appreciate the skill involved and am looking forward to seeing what Football and the Arts Award Academies get up to over the next year. The important thing is that young people have a chance to learn skills and that they have icons like Football & Rugby players to encourage them to aim high. The young welsh mascot who was marched on at the beginning of the game (alongside a goat??!) was beaming and it is very likely that he’ll be trying harder in PE for a good few months, if not years and as a result he might grow up to be a sportsman or maybe a sports commentator, a camera man or sound engineer, all equally vital parts of the modern world of Sports – if it wasn’t a good watch (ie. Entertaining) people like me would stay at home.

So we need to celebrate the opportunities where organisations invest in young people or they’ll end up like two young girls I bumped into at Cardiff Central, one clutching a bottle of Malibu, the other so high she couldn’t do her clothes up properly (or walk straight), overlooked by two stoic members of the St Johns Ambulance who’d voluntarily given up their Saturday night to be on hand with first aid, as the girls thrashed about in pursuit of a good time, looking like their ‘night out’ may just be about to end in the gloom of the platform one toilets.

Rugby is a bone crunching, awesome game when viewed from the heady heights of the Millenium Stadium, Cardiff. Choreography, speed, teamwork, body mass, muscle and nerve all come into play. This weekend’s Wales versus the Springboks (South Africa) brought 74k people to huddle under the roof of this city centre based stadium, causing network rail to galvanise staff at Cardiff Central into various attempts at shepherding those visiting safely in and out of the station (I wonder where the 6,000 people who didn’t make it got to?). Some shops saw fit to close before the game ended and I can see why, seventy four thousand people leaving a venue is quite a sight and it occured to me that if everyone there dropped a penny in the bucket that members of the Armed Forces were holding on behalf of the charity ‘Help for Heroes’ that would have been an easy seven hundred and forty pounds made, but it looked to me like most people had already spent their money on several pints of beer; I’m not a regular Rugby match attender but it does seem that this is as much a necessity as having a ticket.

It’s a sporting month in the youth arts universe; this month saw the launch of Arts Award Football Academies, an example of football and art coming together to work with young people on creative activities to gain a qualification. Already I have noted the almost dance-like grace of the Springboks where their defense was almost a choreographed routine taking them from one side of the pitch to the other with the Welsh team crashing about around them, literally like bulls in a China shop (Wales I was cheering for you, honest!) and I can see how the arts and sports are really not so different, who’s that rugby player gracefully holding his own in ‘Strictly Come Dancing’?

Glorious afternoon in Brighton. 

Our heartfelt thanks to Food Project volunteers/friends and to Feral Theatre Company for the wonderful storytelling. Homemade Toffee apples, soul cake, pumpkin soup and baked potatoes made for an unforgettable All Souls Day. Before we tore ourselves away, I couldn’t bear to dismantle my ‘inner child’, so left it hanging on a bush to scare the crows away.

Watch out for Feral’s new website and if you live nearby don’t miss their next event, heartwarming, affirming and brimming with friendly folk – plus the big adventure of finding it in the first place!

 Travelling from Brighton to Chichester one evening this week I witnessed a lovely train guard at work, he evicted a group of excitable youngsters (who clearly didn’t have tickets) with such good humour they got off at the next stop without a fuss and impedending disaster was averted. He then rescued a woman traveller in distress (on the wrong train and doomed to miss her connection to Cambridge) he got her on the right train, calmly and coolly sorted out a new route and timetable then, equally calmly issued another man with a ticket for his journey the next day when he overheard him worrying about the ticket office being open – not sure I’ve conveyed the sheer amazement I experienced watching someone be so personable, so thoughtful. It was that small but kind gesture that warmed me and next day I was invited to join a facebook group  ’small acts of kindness’ these are indeed, the times for small acts of kindness.