Creative Writing Seminar - Free Writing

So, after the madness of Freshers Week, today was my first official day as an English Literature student at university! Thanks to a hugely inspiring seminar (one that, due to now resolved timetabling issues I was nearly an hour late for, but still) it was also the day I fell back in love with just writing, anything and everything, for no reason at all.

I am a planner. I am an obsessive planner. I plan my lists; I plan how I will plan to plan; you can imagine, then, how meticulously I plan my writing. So today, when we were told to just 'freewrite' on a certain theme for 5/10 minutes, my first reaction was - panic. I cannot do this. I have to plan. However, after thinking for a minute, I was surprised at how easy it came...in the ultimate cheesy expression, the words were flowing from my pen faster than I could keep up with them. Granted, what I produced was hardly gold dust, but the point is that I did it. I wrote something, without planning, and that is a major achievement for me.

This was only my first seminar - like the nerd that I am, I am excited to see what the others will bring! Hopefully, they will be just as successful; just as inspiring.

Watch this space ;)    

The Song That Saved My Life: Stairway To Heaven

Everyone has that one song that affects you in a way that no other can: it makes you laugh - it uplifts you, giving you a kind of adrenaline rush that makes you feel as if you can take on the world; or it makes you cry - maybe your heart has been broken, or maybe for no reason at all, but for three, four, five minutes, you can listen to that song and believe that someone, somewhere, understands exactly how you are feeling and has somehow channelled it into music. For me, Led Zeppelin's 'Stairway To Heaven' is a curious mix of all of this. It is, quite simply, a beautiful song. Whenever, wherever I hear it, it sends shivers down my spine. It is heart rendering: not in a heartbreaking, kill-me-now kind of way, but in a quiet, uplifting, curiously eerie and wonderfully odd kind of way.

Released in November 1971, 'Stairway To Heaven' threads into 8 minutes everything that a great rock song should be. The haunting acoustic folksy start plays out into an electric instrumental; the final section could be described as 'hard rock', with Jimmy Page's genuinely brilliant guitar solo and his and Robert Plant's powerful vocals. The closing a capella line 'And she's buying a stairway to heaven' ensures that, no matter who you are, the song stays with you long after it finishes.

My Dad being a 70s/80s rock fan, I grew up with the likes of Led Zeppelin as a background soundtrack. However, it wasn't until I was sixteen and exposed to that long post-GCSE summer that I really began to appreciate this music myself. I will admit that I became kind of obsessed with this song: I bought the Led Zeppelin t-shirt that I am (coincidentally) wearing as I write this (although it is buried beneath two hoodies and a blanket because, let's face it, September is here and it is practically winter); I planned to get certain, at the time, particularly relevant lyrics tattooed across my back the second I turned eighteen (I am now nineteen, and, although I have not ruled out the idea, my back remains tattoo-less - for now). The beauty of this song is that it is one of those rare creations that suits all moods. Back to that summer: it started on a high, and the song was relevant; it ended with a bit of nose-dive, and 'Stairway To Heaven' still had a place on my daily playlist. Three years later, I, like everyone, have had my ups and downs. But each time this song comes on 'shuffle' on my iPod, I listen, and it takes on a new meaning every time.

I will repeat what I said at the very start: 'Stairway To Heaven' is, quite simply, a beautiful song. I'll leave you with my favourite lyrics - interpret them how you will:

"And it's whispered that soon, if we all call the tune,

Then the Piper will lead us to reason."  

Thomas Scheibitz - Review

Title: 'ONE-Time Pad'

Artist: Thomas Scheibitz

Venue: The Baltic Centre for Contemporary Art, Gateshead

Dates: 26th July - 3rd November 2013

Web Link: https://www.balticmill.com/whats-on/exhibitions/detail/thomas-scheibitz

In his exhibition 'ONE-Time Pad', German conceptual painter and sculptor Thomas Scheibitz brings over two hundred of his works from the past five years to the Baltic. Using simple geometric shapes to trigger memories within his audience, Scheibtiz's art explores the conflict and tension between figuration and abstraction. Aside from the revelation that this collection has  a particular focus on the human figure, Scheibitz keeps to his usual practice of giving away very little about his work - it is not meant to be deciphered. With this in mind, the title of the exhibition is perfect: a very helpful Baltic worker - without whose informative tour around a selection of the works I, and, judging by their expressions, the rest of the group, would have been completely lost - tells us that 'ONE-Time Pad' refers to a method of encryption used to transmit secret messages during World War II and the Cold War. Each code can be used only once and is impossible to crack; Scheibitz rightfully sees his work as encrypted visual messages, which the viewer is invited to unlock through their own interpretations of each artwork.

Although the exhibition is displayed on levels 3 and 4 of the Baltic, it is recommended that we begin at level 5, looking down upon the sculptures and paintings on the level below. From this vantage point, the artworks seem like an eclectic jumble sale of colour - I am reminded vaguely of the Mad Hatter's tea party in 'Alice in Wonderland'.

Down to level 4 and our first port of call are the paintings that line the walls, mostly vinyl and oil on canvas. The bizarrely named 'GP 169' - it becomes apparent that, in fact, the majority of the works are bizarrely named so as to bear no influence on the viewer's interpretation of the content - catches my attention. It comprises strong, dark block colours: very flat but with a 3D effect in the bottom right corner, I interpret the assortment of geometric shapes as a person. The work has a quality of sadness: the large 'eyes' are bold red, with blue and black lines spiralling from their edges that could be interpreted as tears. According to the guide, this painting is actually meant to resemble a heart - you see what I mean about these works being very open to opinion. This is again the case for the next painting, 'Portal'. We are told that popular guesses as to the content of this piece - a series of different sized squares with a triangular incision at the centre - are windows, mirrors, doors, frames. The bold colours and varying sizes of squares give the impression of sucking you in: I felt very small and insignificant. The swell of black and yellow at the bottom of the piece provide a welcome break from the straight lines that are otherwise dominant.

The next painting is my favourite of all those on level 4. Until the title is revealed, I confess to being able to decipher very little: it is a mass of geometric shapes and planes of colour jostling for space, deliberately difficult to penetrate. Scheibitz believes that this constant bombardment and distortion is reflective of life. The piece is actually named 'Le Matin' - all at once, it takes on a new meaning. This could be a contemporary interpretation of a busy cityscape at sunrise. The painting's sheer size and busyness convey the feeling I always get in a cosmopolitan city - overwhelmed, insignificant, at risk of being lost forever amongst the tall buildings.

An alcove at the back of the room gives a rare insight into Scheibitz's creative mind: his preparatory drawings are on display, sketches on paper used to figure out the compositions and proportions of his pieces. We are told that, whilst the artist works on several paintings at once, he only ever focuses on one sculpture at a time. It is the sculptures we move onto next, in the centre of the room. Interestingly, they are presented in groups on large plinths rather than in the original arrangement of one sculpture per plinth. This is so that they overlap. I home in on two sculptures seeming - and I could be entirely wrong - to represent trees. The first is a black metal construct, reminiscent of a coat rack from IKEA, with a giant 'bauble' hanging from it - it makes me think of a starved, gothic Christmas tree. The second contrasts hugely: a smooth, glossy brown, thicker, seemingly quite graceful. It is smaller but seems infinitely stronger than the first.

Level 3 brings the painting 'Mosaik', possibly the most easily decipherable work yet. It is a man with a strange, large hat, a cross-hatched face and head; the man is grey against a predominantly yellow background. No mouth is visible, but there is an air of a serious expression. On closer inspection, the hat seems too large, too crushing - as if the man is being oppressed from above. For some reason, I warm to this painting. This level also hosts the piece from which the exhibition takes its' name, 'ONE-Time Pad'. It reminds me of 'Le Matin': the grey skies we see here could make it the same cityscape but at a different time of day. I have become used to this feeling now, but it is hard to decipher: a feeling of busy industrialisation dominates.

Also available here are Scheibitz's notebooks and collages of early sketches and plans. They are certainly an interesting insight, though I will be honest when I say that - as per his intentions - they do not make anything easier to decipher.

All in all, the exhibition is certainly interesting, though I will confess that by the end attempting to find a meaning in these often impossible works can become quite exhausting. Nonetheless, I would recommend a visit: arty types will love it; non-arty types, the exhibition is a lovely way to lose yourselves for an afternoon.  

An Angel For May - Review

Title: An Angel For May

Author: Melvin Burgess

Published By: Andersen Press

ISBN: 978-1-84939-543-2

 

'An Angel For May': a lovely title for what is, overall, a lovely story. First published in 1992, this novel joins the ranks of Melvin Burgess' many fine fictions for children. Burgess presents us with interesting, unique characters: particularly with 12 year old protagonist Tam, the author hits the nail of childhood emotions right on the head, really getting into his thoughts and the way a child of that age would interpret situations that are perhaps beyond his years. The moving 'An Angel For May' draws us completely into Tam's Yorkshire world - or, rather, worlds.

From the outset, Burgess introduces his readers to darker themes: a few pages in, we learn that Tam's parents are recently divorced and that Tam, a young boy at the centre of it all, is struggling to cope with his new familial situation. He takes refuge by escaping his unhappy home and hanging around the ruins of locally nicknamed 'Thowt It' farm - as in, 'who'd-a-thowt-it Farm...hidden way up there, where there seemed to be nothing'. Burgess throws us straight into the action as, whilst exploring the dilapidated sites and with the help of a mysterious old woman and her lively pet dog, Tam encounters a vision: the farm whole and homely as it once was, with a young girl making toast by a crackling fire. When Tam returns a few days later, the unthinkable happens: the ruined fireplace in which he crouches becomes a portal, and Tam is hurtled fifty years into the past. Against the backdrop of WWII, Tam is welcomed into the cosy home - so unlike his own broken one - of the generous Mr Nutter and his disturbed yet highly intriguing charge, May. Sooner or later and after discovering the ugly fate that meets his new friends, Tam is faced with a difficult decision: does he take his way out and stay in the past forever, or does he accept what happens and embrace the future?

Whilst I felt that the book was a little young for me, Burgess' writing style is perfect for the pre/early teen audience, featuring some lovely descriptions throughout. In both the past and the present, he creates a Yorkshire in which the reader can truly seep themselves: the sun is described as 'a low, red eye wreathed in dark colours and smoky haze'. A favourite of mine focuses on Tam's interpretation of an air raid: 'the town began to cry out. It moaned. The moan rose to a howl.' This, I imagine, is exactly what an air raid would seem like to an unknowing, bewildered boy thrust into the centre of it all. In with these more serious subjects, Burgess intersperses slices of great humour: in response to Mr Nutter's declaration that Tam is 'an angel for my May', his busybody housekeeper Mrs Pickles announces that 'If all you have to do to be an angel is lose your wits I'll stop going to Church and start banging my head against a brick wall.' Mr Nutter's use of the Yorkshire dialect 'appen' is prevalent throughout, a word whose meaning I had no idea of until consultation with the Google Gods (it translates as 'perhaps', in case you were wondering).

I am still not quite sure what to make of the ending. Towards the final pages, use of time and timeslips becomes a bit unclear: I was not sure whether Tam was in the 1940s or the 1990s - I had to keep double checking and relying on big giveaways such as an air raid for clarification. The conclusion itself is a little strange, and I confess that it was no great surprise - from page thirteen, I had earmarked the link between the young girl, May, in the past and the old woman, Rosey, in the present. Nonetheless, that does not take away from the fact that 'An Angel For May' is an interesting piece of children's fiction - I would have little hesitation in recommending the book to younger readers.  

Divine Bodies - Review

Title: 'Divine Bodies'

Venue: Laing Art Gallery, Newcastle Upon Tyne

Dates: 8th June - 29th September

Web Link: http://www.twmuseums.org.uk/laing-art-gallery/whats-on/exhibitions/divine-bodies.html

Divine Bodies is an interesting combination of European pre-1800 Old Master paintings and modern contemporary works. As I enter the exhibition, a description on the wall tells me that the narratives, spirituality and expressive qualities of these older works continue to hold power and relevance for the modern audience. By the end of the collection, I am able to appreciate this: Divine Bodies illustrates how art has the unique power to make fascinating links between today's world and that of centuries gone by.

The exhibition is divided into two sections: the first, 'Pain and Transcendence'. Here we learn that Old Master paintings were created during a time of strong religious worship. Biblical imagery has been a strong influence for artists over the centuries, with religious narratives allowing for the exploration of a variety of emotions - wonder, loss, hope and despair. Even though religion now holds less sway over daily life in the Western world, artists continue to be fascinated by it. This is evident in the first image, the iconic picture that has come to represent the entire exhibition: David LaChapelle's 2009 'Kanye West: The Passion'. Here we see the bloodied face of the American hip-hop artist in profile, with a glowing halo of black thorns around his head, set against a background of burning orange and red. The image, whilst undeniably slightly strange, strikes me as being very clever. West describes himself as the saviour of hip-hop music, his songs telling of a search for spirituality: LaChapelle interprets this literally, presenting us with West as Christ crowned with thorns.

Moving on and we are led to two contrasting images depicting the crucifixion of Christ. Marlene Dumas's 2011 oil canvas painting shows a small, pitiful Christ on the cross; rough, dark smears of paint reflect his abandonment and despair. The painting's title is somewhat ironic: 'The Tree of Life' has connotations of vivacity, glory, whereas the image we actually see gives a feeling of loneliness and despair. This is set next to Jacob de Wit's 1719 'Christ on the Cross': where Dumas's version of Christ has his head bowed in the ultimate expression of defeat, de Wit's version has his head raised heavenwards, expressive eyes searching for an answer. The one real similarity between the works seems to be the idea of the body's vulnerability: Dumas's Christ is very skinny, ribs protruding, and bleeding; de Wit shows Christ's heaving chest, whilst all muscles are tensed and fingers are clenched to convey the physical pain of crucifixion.

The most interesting painting in this section also happens to be the creepiest. In a line straight out of a story, it sends genuine shivers down my spine - I am drawn to it with a morbid fascination. Another oil on canvas, 'St. Francis in Ecstasy' was painted by an unknown artist in 1598: for me, the anonymity of the work adds to the creepiness. We see a grim-reaper style man, his passed out body supported by an angel, an other-worldly expression on his face and hands open to show stigmata. Dramatic use of bright light and dark shadows make this painting a very powerful image.

From here we pass into a separate room which holds the second section of the exhibition: 'Beauty, Youth and Age'. This section is my favourite of the two: addressing issues such as how Old Master paintings of the female form depict women's role in the downfall of men - linked with temptation, danger, sin - it really got my feminist brain going. It is clear to see that voyeurism and objectification of women transcends the centuries, whilst the modern world's obsession with bodily perfection has always been there - it is simply the definition of 'perfection' that changes. The exhibition caused me to reflect on the Western world's current definition of beauty - tiny, skeletal size zero, as small as it is possible to be without actually disappearing - and wonder whether, despite our disconnection from religion, this is where it has its roots: if women starve themselves to pre-pubescent proportions, they will not tempt men.

'Divine Bodies' nowadays equates to smooth, young and blemish free; older bodies convey ideas of shame and loss of dignity. Melanie Manchot does a great job challenging this with her 1996 silver gelatin and mixed media on canvas portrait of her mother: 'Mrs Manchot, Arms Overhead'. This contemporary piece is more reminiscent of the older paintings, where the women have much fuller, more natural figures. Manchot challenges our conventional ideas of beauty by portraying her naked, ageing mother gazing straight out of the frame, exuding complete confidence and pride in her body. In a society where almost everyone is crippled by body insecurities, this is a refreshing and much-needed piece of artwork.

All in all, I would recommend Divine Bodies: diverse, inspiring artwork, and much food for thought.  

The View On The Way Down - Review

Title: The View On The Way Down

Author: Rebecca Wait

Published By: Picador

ISBN: 978-1-4472-2469-3

Rare is the book that takes you in completely: you give yourself half an hour to read, but four hours later there you are, still curled up on the sofa and absorbed in its pages; you forget that at some point you have to break off to eat, sleep, do something perhaps a little more productive than getting lost in a world that is not your own. I can say without hesitation that Rebecca Wait's 'The View On The Way Down' was completely worth all those hours of 'unproductiveness'. It made me laugh, it made me cry. Simply yet beautifully written, the tale was in my thoughts long after I turned the final page.

'The View On The Way Down' is the story of the Stewart family: husband and wife Joe and Rose; their two sons Kit and Jamie; and younger daughter Emma. The introduction depicts an idyllic day at the beach: if ever there was a 'perfect' family, it would be the Stewarts. However, by the end of chapter one it is clear that this illusion has been long since shattered. Some fourteen years have passed. In that time, Kit has died. On the day of the funeral, Jamie left home, completely severing all ties with his home and family. Rose and Joe, consumed by their grief - and, in Joe's case, indomitable anger - at losing not just one but both sons, have essentially become strangers. At the centre of it all is Emma, now a chubby, awkward teenager trying to navigate her way in a society that only accepts the pretty and the perfect. Emma is, from the start, a real highlight of the book. In a world that has recently produced wet, limp damsel-in-distress females that have all the personalities of a toilet brush (Twilight's Bella Swann immediately springs to mind), Wait does a fantastic job in creating a protagonist with whom we instantly connect: I would defy any teenage girl to read this book and not recognise at least a small part of herself in the loveable, bumbling Emma. It is the actions of Emma that really propel the story along: devastated by problems at school and suffocated by her life at home, she sets out one day to find Jamie. Their subsequent meeting starts a chain of events that reveals both happiness and tragedy in equal measure. The story is divided into three parts, the second of which is the most difficult to read: written as a series of letters from Jamie to his estranged father, this is the section of the story where I found myself with tears in my eyes, holding my breath.           

Throughout 'The View On The Way Down', Wait deals with many dark themes: grief, depression, suicide. Yet the direct manner with which she handles this, as well as interspersing happier memories offered as anecdotes by various characters, means that this is not a heavy, difficult book. Her frank approach to these challenging issues make for engaging reading: the simple, total desperation conveyed in her handling of depression in particular is so strong that I believe any person who has ever suffered similar mental health problems would find it easy to relate. Every character deals with the loss of Kit differently. Wait does a stellar job in showing that, whilst the feeling of grief is universal, the way in which it manifests itself is rarely the same: Joe retreats into his shed, channelling the loss into practical, manual work; Jamie mechanically works his way through a menial job in a bookshop and, in the privacy of his flat, loses himself in elaborate games of Lego; Rose is intent on being the perfect mother to her daughter, determined not to let her down in the way she believes she did her sons whilst finding 'a curious strength in denying herself' the need to eat; Emma, by contrast, 'developed a kind of nervous reflex which involved eating everything in sight', as well as a later flirtation with hardcore Christianity.  

With her debut novel - written on evenings whilst she worked full time as a teaching assistant - Rebecca Wait sets the bar high. She is currently working on her second project: if it is anywhere near as strong as the first, we are certainly in for a treat.

Helloooo!

I am never very good at introductions, but here goes: my name is Beth; I'm a nineteen year old full-time English Literature student, writer and worrier.

For the past year, I have been running a blog (Writing The World - a linking tab to which can be found at the top of the page) where twice a week I have published some of my writing: the occasional fictional pieces, but mostly articles inspired by current events. Basically, I've become a bit disillusioned with it. I have very much enjoyed doing it, but I feel like it's time for a fresh start. I have recently got a job; I am starting university next week; I thought, why not make a new blog as well?

So, here we go! If I haven't already bored you to tears, feel free to read on!