Eno installations at the Montefiore Hospital

I’m not given much to hero worship, but Brian Eno is as close as I get.  His ambient music is often the backdrop to my work, and his albums Neroli, Thursday Afternoon, The Plateaux of Mirrors (with Harold Budd), Music for Airports, and On Land are all favourites.  While his book, A Year With Swollen Appendices, which I read several times, influenced the course of my life and helped me diversify and enrich what have done with my life.

Lately, I have been researching hospital waiting rooms, as I believe the experience for people using them can be drastically improved. No surprise to find that Eno had already gone there before me. I visited the Montefiore Hospital  in Hove, just walking distance from my home, which has two installations by Brian Eno.

In the reception area you can find Brian Eno’s 77 Million Paintings for Montefiore, a slowly-mutating light painting, which layers and combines in millions of ways previous artworks by Eno.  He says in his notes, ‘The movement of the whole piece is deliberately slow. My feeling is that this slowness produces a calming experience — because it takes the viewer down to its speed.’ Soothing ambient sounds also provide a tranquil backdrop to the reception area.

The Quiet Room for Montefiore  is chiefly used by patients after chemotherapy and it creates a therapeutic, humanising tranquillity.  About this room Eno writes, ‘Creating a healing environment isn’t only about correct surgical procedures and the right technology but also about making an atmosphere where the patients feel able to relax enough to clearly think through their options, and to properly take part in the healing process themselves.’ As you sit on the sofa and watch the light combine in different ways, and sense the ambient sound calming you, you can tell this is art of a different sort, that provides a context for you to exist calmly. It is a brilliant piece of work.

I picked up the comments book in reception and read, ‘you can feel your blood pressure calming by the minute. It made me think of cells and change and the beauty of life.’ Another person wrote, ‘I truly believe they play a significant role in my treatment and my journey to being well’.

I believe treatment should begin in the waiting room, and The Montefiore Hospital, through its use of these Eno installations, may be on the way to doing just that.

I would like to thank Tom Collins of Montefiore Hospital for showing me the work.

Below a snap of the endlessly changing 77 Million Paintings for Montefiore, in the reception area, and a photo taken from the sofa in the darkened The Quiet Room for Montefiore.

fullsizeoutput_168c

77 Million Paintings for Montefiore by Brian Eno

fullsizeoutput_168e

The Quiet Room for Montefiore, by Brian Eno

 

 

Posted in Architecture, Art, Design, Marketing | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Get your TRUTHS here

I wanted to post this link to the Telltale Press site to get your copy of TRUTHS: A Telltale Press Anthology.  Crammed with exceptional poets, this anthology is Telltale’s swansong, edited by Sarah Barnsley, Robin Houghton and I. Lovely to be able to finish the Telltale project on a high.

b5985f4b-45ad-4c36-9d1e-5d9ab79487aa

fullsizeoutput_140f

Sarah Barnsley, Robin Houghton and myself pictured in gleeful mode, at an editorial  meeting in a pub earlier this year.

Posted in Poetry, Telltale Press | Tagged , , | 1 Comment

The Mosque Cathedral of Córdoba

A mosque with a cathedral bursting out of its roof. Ever since Lorraine and I went to Spain a month ago, I have been haunted by the Mosque-Cathedral of Córdoba.

It is not rare for different religions to use the same holy sites over history, although what makes people originally decide a site is holy or not is an interesting question. The building in Córdoba close to the Guadalquivir river has its roots at least as far back as the mid-6th Century, with establishment of a Visigoth Basilica of San Vincente. It became a mosque in 786 and after the dissolution of the Caliphate of Cordoba in 1031, was rededicated as a Catholic temple in 1146, and its strange hybrid life began.

I found the Mezquita exquisite. A forest of pillars, that line up as you walk past them, with the visitors inside flickering between them.

IMG_4421

But what held me spellbound, was the the semicircular niche, the mihrab, in the qibla wall, where people orient themselves in prayer. This mihrab, was simply one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in my life. Lorraine and I spent a long time just looking at this beautiful thing, and returned early a few days later so we could spend more time drinking it in with our eyes.

IMG_4297

And looking up…

fullsizeoutput_15ac

On my next visit, I wanted to look harder at the Cathedral too.

The effect of a almost vertical shaft of light, which is extremely  dramatic when you walk into it from the low light levels of the mosque. Walking into the Cathedral after looking at the patterns of Islamic art, the depictions of Jesus, God, Mary, various saints and angels was a stark difference.

It made me think how the holy art of Islam contrasts with Christian depictions of Christ, Mary, the apostles and so on. For me, these depictions, however beautiful, always have a touch of bathos. They particularise and funnel the imagination towards human likenesses. While I found my first impression of the mihrab made me imagine reaching out to something divine and ultimately indefineable.

To me, imposing a new Cathedral which literally goes through the roof of the old mosque seemed almost a brutality, and inclined me to a political reading of the building, that the Cathedral was triumphalist expression of the overthrow of the Caliphate and the reconquest of Spain.

fullsizeoutput_15adfullsizeoutput_15ae

But after a second visit, I changed my mind. The building’s hybrid nature won me over.

I’ve forgotten where I first bumped into the thought that religions could be considered to be fingers on the hand of God, but this Mosque Cathedral reminded me of it.

Through many centuries people have yearned towards the idea of God in so many ways, including eastwards, upwards or by looking within. What strange things we people are, and what beauty can religions draw out of us.

SaveSave

Posted in a writer's life, Architecture, Religion | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Gregory Vincent St. Thomasino, and grappling with what’s difficult

gauguin_vision_sermon

When I meet a difficult text, it invariably makes me think of the Genesis story of Jacob and the Angel, or at least its depictions in art.  I like Jacob Epstein’s statue Jacob and the Angel (1940) in the Tate, but it is Gauguin’s Vision after the Sermon (1888) with women having just left church on Sunday, receiving a vision of Jacob wrestling with the angel that most often comes to mind. What does the angel want? Obedience? Submission? When Jacob prevails after a night of wrestling, he is freed with a wounded hip joint and he is given a new name: Israel.

* * *

Grappling all night with difficult texts can seem an ordeal too, especially if there is an exam at the end of it. As a student, I sometimes found unpicking all the references in say T.S. Eliot or Ezra Pound tiresome. I still think of this stage of modernism as an exercise of cultural collage, or mosaic work: a tessera of Dante, a smidge of Wordsworth, a splash of Bhagavad Gita. Exemplified by The Waste Land, this juxtaposition of  pan-cultural resonances was undoubtedly exciting, and a leap ahead in poetry. As a student, the better read you became, the easier it became to nod with a certain smugness, for example, when you’d traced the origins.

In the mid eighties, I was given J.H.Prynne’s The Oval Window by my friend Michael, who is now a professor in the US. This was the best kind of grappling. Michael was a Prynne advocate, and we swapped letters (yes, in actual envelopes) for a few months about Prynne’s work. My first reaction to Prynne was hostile. I got that he used language in part to portray the difficulty of communicating, a familiar trope in twentieth century writing. But itseemed to me that Prynne took this to heroic levels of wilful obscurity. Grappling with the angel of Prynne frequently left me feeling angry and baffled. But it stretched me as a reader, and something else happened that I hadn’t bargained for: I became haunted by the images in his work. Here’s a section from one of the untitled (they are all untitled) poems in the book.

Given to allergic twitching, the frame
compounds for invertible counterpoint
and waits to see. A view is a window
on the real data, or a lower surplus in oil
and erratic items such as precious stones,
aircraft and the corpses of men, tigers
fish and pythons, “all in a confused tangle.”

This collection is full of points ‘of vantage, private and inert’, and these poems have been  a sphinx on my imaginative horizon ever since, and in the way that poems that yield their pleasures more easily simply have not. I’m still conflicted by Prynne. Do I find this language beautiful? Not really. Does it move me? Only in a weird way. Do I find myself picking up Prynne on a regular basis? Yes, damn it!

Since Prynne I have grappled with poets I find difficult, and even if I have to submit, bruised and baffled, I often feel I have at least encountered something mysterious, and that the struggle taught me something, even if only about my own limitations.

* * *

Most writers of poetry often encounter invitations to enter competitions. The majority of them exist to bolster the funds of poetry publishers, which is a perfectly good reason to support them. Sifting through hundreds of poems, those judges, however sincere and thorough, are more likely to respond to work that rapidly downloads its meaning and rewards. While these poems can be profound, my feeling is that only rarely do they provoke a lengthy engagement. The worst of them are like jokes, you read them once or twice, get the punchline and move on.

 * * *

I have lately been visiting the New York based site E·ratio, which is edited by Gregory Vincent St. Thomasino. E·ratio ‘publishes poetry in the postmodern idioms with an emphasis on the intransitive’. The intransitive being writing that draws attention to the act of writing itself, in a Prynne-like way, rather than pointing to something in the outside world. I loved this bracing precision, and there is bags of challenging work on the site. I was also delighted when Gregory published a rare sortie into this kind of postmodernism by me.

 * * *

I have been enjoying getting to grips with Gregory’s Vincent St. Thomasino’s selected writings, collected in the soon-to-be-released, The Wet Motorcycle. This work, which I have been lucky enough to see before publication, includes some absolutely pyrotechnic  poems, that burst off the page and whoosh over your head.  An early sequence is called Bolts. To me they are mysterious meteors of meaning. Take Bolt twenty which pinballs between tiny fragments of perhaps, Tristan and Iseult, and Petrach, and may be alluding to the  misfortune of having to dash your brain on the harsh business of grappling with words.

Bolt twenty
Por Deu
Omnipotent
Ce
Fu pechiez
dash my brain L’
Aspre vie
Words
New
Woe

The Wet Motorcycle is also remarkable, in that it provides the theoretical background to enable you to better understand the poet’s way of seeing. He offers a  Crash Course in Logoclastics,  which employs the term ‘logoclastics’ to suggest a break or dislocation in discourse. This break is where the reader steps in to bridge the gap with ‘their own logic, sense and meaning’. I think it may be possible to read this as encouraging a more engaged reading, where the reader is co-creating with the writer. Nothing to argue with here. While I have never thought of it this way, I always enjoy writing that has ambiguity, suggestion, and territories left for the reader to explore. Leaving space for the reader is essential in serious writing.

The theory continues with a description of the ‘pannarrative’ text.

The pannarrative text. If “text-collage” is the general term for such, then a “text collage” composed of fragments (word fragments, words, sentences, verses, elements [quotation]) of narrative (narrative as found / appropriation) “stitched” together. It is a sort of “list” or “roll call.”
The pannarrative poem begins by seeing all the world as one great narration — a narrative that is known in proportion to the degree of the relation of its parts.
As an instance of the pannarrative text (or, of, the collage text) I here do offer a text. And notice, please, the composition, the assemblage, is of things from the world writ large, from the world encircling me, and these are mixed with my own sensibilities, with my own emotions (and that my poem is the analogue to the expressionist depiction, and thus an ekphrasis of sorts).

This description of how the writer engages with the ‘one great narration’ to produce his work I find fascinating.

I have just embarked on Gregory Vincent St. Thomasino’s work. Sure it is difficult. But it has rewards and challenges. But one thing is for certain, this is a way of writing that is distinctly different to my own, and I enjoy it for precisely this reason. His is a serious and pioneering endeavour, which has poetry, flash fiction, novels and theory in its ambit. It is unlike any other I have read, so must be explored.

SaveSave

SaveSave

Posted in Poetry, Reading | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Antony Mair launches ‘Bestiary, and Other Animals’ at the Poetry Cafe

fullsizeoutput_15a2

Antony Mair, signing ‘Bestiary, and Other Animals’ 20 June 18 at the Poetry Cafe

To The Poetry Cafe in Covent Garden last night, where Antony Mair launched his first full collection, Bestiary, and Other Animals, published by Live Canon. The Poetry Cafe was more crowded than I have ever seen it. Introduced by Helen Eastman, director of Live Canon, the reading was in two halves, reflecting the two sections of the book. Antony read poems from Bestiary, a sequence of 26 animal poems from Aardvark to Zebra.  In the second half, two actors from live Live Canon read from the And Other Animals section, they brilliantly expressed the energy and emotions in the poems. It was an extremely enjoyable evening.

I haven’t had the book for a day hours yet, but from reading the poems this morning, and on the train home last night, Antony’s poems shine with warmth, acute observation and an understated but powerful originality. It’s a cracking collection. Buy your copy here you’d be mad not to.

 

Posted in Book Launch, Poetry | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Slow progress and wide heart lead

Seven items from the imaginary news desk at Kenny Towers.

  1. A nice, not to mention speedy, review of TRUTHS A Telltale Press Anthology in London Grip. If you’d like to buy a copy, simply get in touch with me through this site. In other poetry news, I have a poem called Commuted on the Amaryllis site,  and another War Diary in 1/72 scale accepted by Arachne Press anthology provisionally called An Outbreak of Peace.
  2. And talking of self-puffery, here’s a conversation I had with the multi-talented Louise Tondeur about marketing.
  3. Two books of poetry are currently lighting up my life. Eleni Vakalo, Before Lyricism, translated by Karen Emmerich, which drips with timeless vitality and sheer Greekness which I love. One day I must post more about the riches of Greek poetry since Cavafy.  And Janet Sutherland‘s Bone Monkey, which was recommended to me by my poet pal Charlotte — I have the sense in reading Janet’s poems that she sees the world a bit like I do, except she has words for what I’ve not been able to say, so for me her poems are revelatory. I am just about to order her other two books now. Some writers make you fall in love with reading all over again, and Vakalo and Sutherland are two of those.
  4. I think I have started a new play, but I don’t want to hex myself by saying more. It seems to want to be another black comedy.
  5. I have lost count of the number of agents I’ve approached with my children’s book. Not a glimmer so far, and the majority are so swamped they simply don’t reply. As the book has been read to actual schoolchildren who have lapped it up, clearly lateral thinking and persistence must now be deployed (after a brief spell of shaking my fist at the indifferent gods of publishing).
  6. In the other part of my double life as a creative, I found out a concept I’d done with my pals in the Paris agency, Life Animal Health, about the animal disease rinderpest, has won a prize in the French Empreintes awards.
  7. I have been learning how to make stained glass windows. My class on a short hiatus before restarting. The design part I find fairly easy, but the practical stuff I find a bit of a ‘pane’. Cutting different thicknesses and types of  lead (I love the name of one – ‘wide heart lead’), cutting glass, sometimes overlaying two lots of glass one on the other, grinding glass, soldering (I’d never done this before), and generally getting my finicky hands dirty, have all challenged me. I love it though. My design was quite complicated, so despite working on it for weeks every Friday morning, it is still not finished. The tutor, Ben Conti, a very patient and skilled man and has not let me compromise my vision. My fellow students all lovely. I’m planning a bench at home.

Below… A workbench snap a few weeks ago. Ben seems to think it will be done one day, but stained glass is, for me, a work of glacial progress…. But once the mammoths have thawed out, it could look nice all buffed up and completed.

fullsizeoutput_1331

Posted in a writer's life, Greece, Marketing, Peter Kenny The Writer Ltd., Publishing, Stained glass, Telltale Press, Writing | Tagged , , , , | 5 Comments

Telltale Press finishes on a high

Robin Houghton and Sarah Barnsley and I co-edited TRUTHS: A Telltale Press Anthology,  and we had our big launch. All kinds of marvellous poets who were in the anthology came and read. Sarah, Robin and I introduced the night and also read. Our guests were amazing.

It was emotional, as we are wrapping up Telltale and wanted to do it in a celebratory way and on a high. Telltale now has lots of friends, and I have met some amazing people through it since Robin first approached me with the idea in 2014. I feel I’ve learned how to ‘be’ a poet again from my friends in Telltale, Robin, Sarah, Siegfried and Jess — and Catherine Smith our associate editor. We’ll all do stuff together at some point again, but the experience has been enriching in all kinds of ways.

Below is a photo my wife Lorraine took of the chaotic poet posse in Lewes on 25th April. Deep breath… l to R Louise Tondeur, Jeremy Page, Clare Best, Catherine Smith, me at the back, Sarah Barnsley (kneeling) Jess Mookherjee, Mike Bartholomew-Biggs, Abigail Parry (kneeling), Janet Sutherland, Abegail Morley (with Charlotte Gann hidden behind her d’oh), Stephen Bone, Marion Tracy, John McCullough, Robin Houghton, Judy Brown.

A night to remember.

fullsizeoutput_14b2.jpeg

 

SaveSave

Posted in Poetry, Readings, Telltale Press | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments