Issue 36 July 2011
Public Preview: 7 July, 6-9pm
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Exhibition Continues: 8 - 17 July 2011
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Contents GET IN TOUCH welcomE... COVER ARTist - Sandie Cook blankverse - Caitlin Bahrey fiction - Dan Carpenter this month’s mp3 - Avital Raz SPOTLIGHT - CLAIR GRAUBNER FEATURE - 24:7 Festival BLANKPICKS Blank Media rECCOmMENDS THIS MONTH IN BLANK MEDIA COLLECTIVE SUBMISSION GUIDELINES CREDITS
YOU ARE LISTENING TO... Regarding Angels by Avital Raz
COVER ART Poole Harbour Summer 09 By Sandie Cook
4 5 6 12 16 24 30 34 38 40 42 44 46
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Welcome... Summer should be in full swing by now! The washout that was June has passed AND there’s more going in Manchester than usual.. MIF (love it or hate it), Not Part Of, 24:7 Theatre Festival to name but a few. July is Manchester’s culture festival month it would seem. They come and they go. blankpages, however, remains constant. As ever there are team changes; Catherine Teague will be leaving us as Editorial Assistant, but with one exit comes two entrants; I’d like to extend a warm welcome to Becky Owens and Sarah Handyside, our new Feature Editors. You’ll see the excellent work they have been beavering away at inside..
I am an emerging landscape artist working primarily in acrylic paint and ink on canvas. My studio is based in Poole, Dorset and the coastline of Dorset is a continual inspiration for me – both the visual aesthetic and the geological and topographical elements of the landscape inform my work. Nature is the starting point for my work - which evolves through the use of colour, form and layers to present an interpretation of the original image. I work with layers of paint: pouring, scraping back
and removing elements of the painting. The layers introduce a dimension of time into the work - reflecting the landscape. The physical manipulation of paints and surface is as important as the original inspiration. The colours found in the natural environment are also an integral part of my work – both literal references and responses to landscape and our journey through it. The endless combinations of colours and their relationship is evident in my painting and is a theme which I continue to explore.
Sandie is an emerging abstract artist based in Poole, Dorset. She has a degree in fine art and has been running her own successful property business for many years. Now keen to spend more time focusing on her painting and artistic practice she works from her studio overlooking Poole harbour. Her work in inspired by the natural environment and coast line, which is a starting point for an exploration of materials and colour. Her work has featured in many exhibitions and she has been commissioned by several corporate clients.
BLANKVERSE
Caitlin Bahrey
My Dear Clarice If I could sip the moonlight, I’d imagine it to be bitter, like a mantis after biting off a lover. For the moon casts stolen light, that merely shadows brightly —If it casts anything at all: slivers shine on nothing. But you still look to it, as if that Cheshire smile was more than a devious embellishment to ignite the sky. You hunger palely for answers, skin stiffening, as if forced against a stranger, their essence upon you, eating at you. But I wouldn’t harm you. Like the moon, I’d barely skim my nail against your thigh, breathe in stolen touches, and out your reply.
Fruit Flies Pink blood spills upon a coffee ringed sheet, and I think nothing of the body I exploded. I cringe at nectared fingers singed from the ooze of the nothings, that bred from the something I left sitting stagnant since last week. I peel back napkins from their sheethed up loaf, clutching sickly at left remains. Surely, it would’ve died as quickly as it formed. I need these hands, clean and worry-free.
Illustrations by Simon Meredith www.cargocollective.com/simoncmeredith
BLANKVERSE
Satchmo’s Grave Flushing Cemetery, Queens, NY Knighted the new Chinatown, with Orient delicacies exceeding Entenmann’s, and parks of focused eyes, different than my father’s, looking at his difference as he walked to soak his childhood back in.
They’re still there.
There, within houses blanketed by ivy, and wrapped porches dated against the sprouting stucco. There, behind VFW’s to salute the past away, and blur out tomorrows. And they stay, planting themselves within the ground as gardens of rocks, bloomed by death and grass, dying from too much sun and digging. Rocks, adorned with polyester flowers at their base, with nothing but tears to water them. That do not follow my mother to the little dirt pile, standing on her mother, to now part with her father.
Caitlin Bahrey
Instead they follow the flag she tucks into the car, and wait until the dirt pats solid and final. We leave to find others, with more rocks placed upon their rocks, from unknown hands, and unknown traditions. We really leave to find Satchmo, whose rock is more attraction, than tomb, resting louder than his nickname, as if still in performance. But there is no trumpet blaring. No sound pouring from the plastered mould atop his death stone, save the disgust that someone could steal such a thing. There is nothing but the clink of change my father leaves, and a pick from my uncle, “to pay homage to a great one.” I look at his world, at the dirt that dusts my open shoes, and ask if it’s still wonderful.
Candle Hands Burn me with your candle hands those wicked flames, deceiving. A larva light, the solace heat, that pushes the heart to beating. Growing forth with spiny wings, nimble fingers weaving, our tiny mouths, absorb the light, and burst upon their meeting.
Caitlin Bahrey is usually a student of Fiction and Literature at Sarah Lawrence College in New York, but blinked one day and found herself in London writing poetry. When she’s not writing reviews for a Brooklyn based publication she’s busy writing anything and everything that she thinks is rhythmically pleasing.
Laura Richardson illustration & animation www.rolaricho.com rolaricho@hotmail.com
Goodnight, Cleo
things you don’t understand about other people. I open a bottle of cider and flick the TV on, scrolling through the channels until I decide there’s nothing worth watching and fall asleep.
1. Bin bags. Full. Knotted. 2. Soft drink bottle. Label removed. Unknown contents. 3. Soil.
In the morning, as I’m leaving the flat, the girl next door opens her door and leaves too. I think she knows I can hear her at night. She doesn’t say anything to me. Instead, we both walk down the hall, silent. She slips ahead of me somewhere near the building’s lobby and walks out into the day. She’s impossibly beautiful, and I can’t help but think if I was that guy in that flat, with that girl, I wouldn’t be arguing with her every night.
By Dan Carpenter Illustration by Laura Richardson
There’s been a file on my desk for a week now. I haven’t opened it but I know the contents. I keep thinking if I leave it alone, if I don’t touch it, then maybe nothing will come of it. But then I look over the monitor at Derek’s office and he’s staring at me. He knows what I’ve done; he already had a meeting with me about it and we talked about conduct and behaviour at work and he frowned and I promised not to do it again. But then, there he is, and there it is. I can’t help but think he’s told other people. On Tuesday in the break room, the moment I entered, conversation stopped, and everyone looked at me like, well, like I didn’t belong. Times like those I get hot and itchy. When I get home and sit on my sofa I can hear them in the flat next to me. Muffled shouts and angry threats. Every single night when they’re not fucking. You can never make out exactly what the words are, but then it’s just another argument; it’s probably about what all arguments are about, the
When the phone on my desk rings at eleven I already know who it is, “You’re not supposed to ring me here,” “I know but,” “But nothing, I can’t do this, not here, not anymore, they found out about the last time,” “So?” “So? I got in trouble, I could have been fired,” “You weren’t though, right?” “No,” “So then it’s fine, how’s your week going?” “I don’t know,” “You sound different,” “Do I?” She doesn’t know. “You do, what’s wrong?” “I think I need to re-evaluate some things in my
life,” “Like what?” “I don’t know, just some things” “Where do I fit in?” She says ‘where do I fit in?’ so quiet and worried that I’m scared I’ll answer her and lie and say that she’s important to me; scared that I’d tell her to come by the flat and spend some time with me. But I don’t. Instead I say, “They start recording the calls after a minute thirty,” and hang up. Derek stares at me from his office. The file stares from my desk. When I get home and I’m about to head up the stairs to the flat, the girl from next door comes in and starts walking up with me. She still looks incredible. As we reach the corridor she says, “You live next door to me, don’t you?” “Yeah, yes, of course, hi,” “I need to, I want to tell you, I don’t know, I think I need you to know, that, I, I don’t know, actually no, forget about it,” “Is everything alright?” “I’m fine, it’s fine, it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry to bother you,” and she disappears up the corridor. That night they argue again. A low human bass thudding through the wall. There’s the sound of something breaking. I turn the TV up, try to ignore it. But then I hear her voice. It’s a voice I can put a face to now. That impossibly beautiful face, and in my head there’s her trying desperately hard to tell me
something and then, the voices stop. The breakages and thumps stop. I realise just how loud I turned the volume up – the news barks around the room – I turn it off. I listen for her voice again. The silence couldn’t be louder. 57. Box labeled ‘Charity’ 58. Keys in hand. Car? 59. Wallet. “Why don’t you ever tell me where you live?” is the first thing she says when she calls. I don’t say anything, I just stay silent. “I know you’re there. I know it’s you. Why don’t you answer?” “Hi, my name is Charlie, can I take your sort code and account number?” “Don’t mess me about, you know it’s me. And your name isn’t Charlie.” “It is actually,” and I hang up. The girl from next door is in the lobby as I get home. I approach her and smile, “Hi,” She doesn’t recognise me at first, “Oh hey?” and she’s about to ask me how I’m doing, like an I’m an old friend, but then it dawns on her, “Oh hi there, you live next door, right?” “Yeah, you spoke to me yesterday,” “Of course I did,” she goes red, “I must have sounded…I must have come across like such a
weirdo, I’m so sorry,” her smile destroys me. “You were fine, you didn’t seem weird,” “Oh thank God,” “Is everything ok?” “Everything’s fine,” she says, but as we near our flats, she hesitates and looks at me, trying to find the words, like a mantra, “Everything’s fine,” she says, “I’m Cleo,” “Charlie,” I say. When I open my door I can hear her unlock hers, I walk along the hall in time with her distant footsteps. She turns towards me when I reach the kitchen door and I follow, flicking the light on. It must be a mirror of my flat. The front door unlocks again, I creep towards the wall, heated voices rise. I follow their conversation from the kitchen to the living room then to the bedroom some hours later. As I lie in bed I lean over to the wall where I assume her head is lying near and I whisper, “Goodnight Cleo,” Somewhere beyond the wall I hear a mumble back. I wake about an hour later, my room is pitch black except for the flickering neon of a clock. There’s a noise coming from the wall, coming from Cleo’s flat. Crying. Someone crying. It’s her. Joining the crying is another, lower tone, angry, frustrated. Then running, crawling, scrambling. Before I know, I’m out of bed, a pair of trousers already half on and a t-shirt thrown over me and before I work out a plan I’m out of
the door and down the hall and it’s only when I’ve knocked on the door of her flat that I stop myself and try to think what to say. I can hear footsteps making their way down the hall and I’m thinking, do I try and take him down? Do I make some lame excuse and ask to borrow something? What do people borrow at this time of night? The security chain is fiddled with, unlocked. The door opens and the boyfriend stands in front of me. He has a vest on. ‘Of course,’ I think, ‘of course he wears vests.’ He says, “The fuck do you want?” “Who is it?” comes a small voice in the distance, “That guy from next door,” then to me, “What the fuck did you want?” “I-I…” “What?” “I thought I heard something,” “Something?” “I wanted to make sure you were both alright, I thought I heard something,” “Something, like what?” “Like a noise.” “A noise? You thought you heard a noise?” “I must have been mistaken then, I’m sorry,” I start walking away. “Fucking waking us up in the middle of the night,” he says as he closes the door, and I mutter, “Like you were asleep,” And like a flash he’s got me on the floor, “What the fuck did you just say?” he’s got my arm twisted right back and up so the tips of my fingers
almost touch the back of my neck, the pain is enough to really wake me up, really show me what I’m in the middle of doing, Cleo comes to the doorway, “Christ Kev, stop it,” but that’s not enough for him, he slaps the back of my head, eyes black out for a moment, “Kev, stop it!” “Didn’t you hear what he said? This fucking perv, listening in on us, keeping him up, the little shit, he’s probably sat there with a fucking cup to the wall,” He leans in close, I can hear Cleo crying out to stop him, “I don’t know what your problem is,” he whispers, “But you come near me or my girlfriend again and I’ll make it ten times worse,” he lets me go, “Got it?” He gets up and heads back into the flat, Cleo stands in the doorway for a moment, her face a mixture of sorrow and anger, one for me, one for him. She doesn’t say anything to me, but closes the door. A few people standing in their doorways head back indoors, no-one helps me. I pick myself up and head back in the flat. I lie in bed and whisper, “Goodnight Cleo,” and she’s there with me, I sit up and she sits next to me. I take her hand and stroke it over my face, across the bruise on the back of my head; she doesn’t flinch, just touching it makes me feel better. “Goodnight Charlie,” she says, and kisses me. 99. Flowers. Unable to read card.
100. CD. 101. Tray of food. Wrapped in foil. She doesn’t leave at the same time as me the next morning. I walk alone down the halls, avoiding the gaze of people who I knew saw me last night. At work, the file lies in front of me. I don’t read it. I won’t read it. She calls again, “You know I’m going to find out where you live, I’m going to find out and come to your house,” “You don’t know where I live,” “No, but I’ll find out, I can find out,” I hang up. The phone rings again. My line lights up. I don’t answer. It rings. I don’t answer. It rings. I pick it up, “You know I’m not bluffing, you know I can find out,” I hang up. A moment later it rings again. This time I don’t let it ring a second time, this time I pick the damn thing right up and shout down the other end, ‘ “You’ll never fucking find me. I don’t care how hard you try, I won’t let you.” “Sorry, I think I might have the wrong number, I’m trying to get an extension on my credit payment?” I hang up. I pick up the file. I leave the office. Each time the train passes through a tunnel, I can see my face. Bruised. Eyes sunk. It’s not even midday, and if Cleo didn’t leave the same time as me today, chances are she’s at home. I can talk to her, I can
straighten things out. I think of her the way I thought of her last night. Planting a kiss on me. Stroking my face. I can hear her whisper in my ears, the same muffled whisper I hear through the walls. I smile. She sleeps next to me at night and I don’t have to listen to her through the wall and I don’t have to be beaten up by Kev. When I get back and knock on her door there’s no answer. She’s asleep, won’t come to the door. I knock harder; this is the only chance I’ve got to talk to her. Footsteps. The door opens a jot. It’s Kev. He looks me up and down. “The fuck do you want?” “Is, is Cleo there?” “No,” his face is red, worn out, stressed. He looks at me as though I’ve interrupted him. “Where is she?” “She left, alright? She’s gone,” “Gone where?’ “Jesus, why the fuck should I tell you? Get the hell out of here,” and he shuts the door. I stand in front of it knocking for a few minutes before I realise he’s not coming back out. I mull things over, the possibilities of what’s happened. There’s a chance she’s still there, trapped by him. She could be dead in there. No, no, she’s left him – that’s good, that’s a good thing. I think she might be dead in there. I think maybe he went too far and, no, no he was going too far already, this time he’s… I have to try and do something.
I have to do something. I pick up the phone and dial. I tell the police everything. They can’t do anything. I don’t have much to tell them. There’s the noises, the arguments, the bruise on my cheek. Even that’s fading. They tell me they’ll file a report, take my information, I’ve got nothing. Not even a definite sign she’s gone. I don’t even finish the call. I hang up. I have to try and do something. I have to do something He had to leave sometime. He has to go out sometime. He has to pass by the peephole. I pull up a chair and sit by the door. When he leaves, about two hours later I unlock the door and head on over to the flat next door. I knock on the door. She’ll answer and she’ll hug me and come back to my flat and I’ll be the one who saved her and he won’t be able to do anything about it. I knock and I knock and no-one comes to the door. I kick the door, I hit it. I know she’s in there and she’s in trouble and I know she wants me to help her and take her away. I want her to be there in my room and to stroke my face and whisper in my ear. I have to have it. I have to. I hear the rise of the lift, and disappear back into my own flat. I don’t go back into work the next day. Nor the day after that. I sit in the hallway of the flat, chair against the door – I watch through the peephole. I watch
for when he leaves, for when he goes out and buys food and I look at the bags he brings back. Looking for clues. Too much food for one person. Women’s things. Rope. I’ve been making a list on the back of the file. I’ve written ‘Goodnight, Cleo,’ in big capital letters at the top. I can hear her whisper, ‘Goodnight Charlie’ whenever my eyes glance over it. 124. Two bags of shopping – possible carrot. 125. Paper pharmacy bag. Condoms? (Circled and underlined). 126. Bread. One loaf. French. I will give this to the police one day. I’ll walk into the police station and tell them just how they didn’t listen and now I have the evidence and now I can prove to them just what Kev’s been doing. I’ll show them the list and they’ll race over to the flat and rescue her. And she’ll thank me. And she’ll kiss me. I don’t answer the phone. It’s constantly ringing. So much so that by the third day, when it finally stops – that’s the only moment I realise that it’s been ringing. The absence of sound. The absence of sound. There’s no noise from next door. No lowered tones. No breakages. No sex. Just the sound of the TV and shower. Sometimes a muffled voice on the phone. I haven’t heard her voice since she went ‘missing’. That’s it. That’s the proof I need. 430. Lager. Four cans. Carling. 431. Newspaper. 432. Vodka. Tesco’s own.
I will write down the lack of noise and then I’ll take it to the police. The back of the file is covered with the list. I still haven’t opened it. I eat whatever I have left. I don’t leave the flat. I eat pasta and cheese. I drink the tap water and swig from the half bottle of cider that I found in the fridge. I have to keep watching him. I have to be there when he screws up. When he reveals to everyone exactly what he’s done. When he gives in. I have to be the one to save her. I imagine the conversations we’d have. Me and her. The things she’d say to me. I fall asleep curled up in the chair. Every night. 876. DVD shaped bag. 877. Magazine. Rolled up. Unsure of title. 878. Crate of beer. Then one day he’s not there. He doesn’t leave the flat and I don’t hear any noise. Nothing coming from there. No sound of the TV. No muffled cascading of water. My list stops on 945. Storage boxes. I haven’t even noticed but I’ve begun writing over the file. Scrawling words across the telephone records, the transcripts of conversations. Snippets ring in my ears. Echoing and mixing with the list. 923. Milk carton, semi-ski ‘…you so hard,’ And there at the top of one of the pages. The number. Her number. “I think I need to re-evaluate some things in my life,” is the first thing I say to her, “Can I see you tonight?” she whispers,
I don’t hang up. She lies next to me in bed. Her hair is a little wiry, and her eyes look sunken. I have never seen her before. Not really. She smiles. She smiles like she’s won. She takes my hand and places it on her face, I let it fall down, feeling the contours and shape, but not hers. I can feel Cleo’s face. I can see her hair. I can see her smile. She leans in and kisses me. And Cleo leans in and kisses me. “So is your name really Charlie?” I tell her it is. “Who does that make me?” I tell her. She rolls over in the bed and whispers, “Goodnight, Charlie,” And I whisper back, “Goodnight, Cleo.”
“If you find yourself living on the darker side of things...
(THIS MONTH’S MP3)
is for you”
Avital Raz is a vocal artist who travels across many borders, a multi-cultured gettogether of many strange characters, all rolled up into one quirky singer-songwriter. Her songs may resemble old English lute songs, Indian classical ragas, cabaret, blues, country music or EasternEuropean Jewish melodies. One of the odder things she's done was record an album based on James Joyce’s “Chamber Music” song-cycle with extensive use of Indian instruments and musicians. She released two EPs of her own material: “Strange Love Songs” (2008) and “Skin & Feathers (2009) which Terrascope Online called “a shimmering dream-like collection” and “enchanting, utterly compelling songs that demand attention”. Avital now lives in Berlin and performs throughout Europe with Amos Ungar. She’ll be releasing her new album Infidelity later this year as well as touring the UK extensively. blankpages caught up with her to see what exactly makes her tick…
Interview by Baz Wilkinson
Your musical style is very eclectic taking on board Eastern scalings and using unusual instruments but, at the same time, it really chimes with the kind of experimental folk artists from England... can you tell us a bit about your influences and how you see them combine during the writing process? Well, I started out singing classical music. I loved early music and specifically English early music such as Dowland and Purcell. I even nearly married a lute player. Later on I travelled to India to learn how to meditate and ended up staying for six years learning Indian classical music. It's been a long and winding road to get to the point of writing my own material and calling it experimental folk. Folk music was always listened to in the house where I grew up house. My American parents were Simon & Garfunkel and Peter, Paul and Mary fans and my big sister listened to Joni Mitchel and Suzane Vega quite a lot. But I was always into classical music until my big depression when I was seventeen and Leonard Cohen was the only thing I listened to. For many years I saw myself as a singer, first and foremost, and had a much easier time making a living singing other people's music. I wrote poetry but it wasn't anything I thought of showing anyone. In India I learned to improvise whilst before that I could only sing from a written score. Suddenly music was pouring out of me and, as much as I love the traditional Hindi texts I was more familiar with, at some point it just had to be my own lyrics.
As everyone is aware, the situation in Israel is perhaps one of the most consistently reported political situations on the globe. It raises passionate demonstrations and discussions that reach far further than Israel. Do you find that your music, through its lyrical expression and musical composition, can act as a vehicle for addressing and articulating your concerns about what is happening?
“I like to fuck with religion in my songs.”
I've been waiting for and fearing this question. First, let me say that I don't like art that is preachy. And art that tries to address politics in too direct a way becomes obvious, prescriptive and, for the ‘audience’ in particular, very one dimensional. However, politics can shape the way we see and interpret the world to some extent whether favourable or not. As a child, I grew up in an orthodox Jewish Family in Jerusalem. It took me a long time to understand the inherit racism in Judaism: “We're the chosen ones and we have a spark of the divine while all other nations have beastly souls…” for example. And even in secular Israeli society these attitudes are prevalent, even if less conscious. In India I lived with a guy from Dorset. And when things got ugly, part of me started asking if it was perhaps because he's not Jewish. I know that makes me sound like a complete asshole but I'm willing to look stupid to demonstrate just how deeply fear, suspicion and patronizing go in Israeli society
Well, no, it’s a good example showing that if we aren’t mindful of doctrines in general, be those found in the media, religion or oneself even, nor able to be objective about them from time to time, they can permeate our perception of the world to the degree that you describe. And all societies are subject to these. Yeah…so in terms of these influencing my writing etc…I guess I use it for escapism to some extent but also in a kind of confrontational manner. I like to fuck with religion in my songs. With Judaism and with any of the other religions I’ve both studied and practiced to some extent, I feel a kind of love-hate relationship to the point that I feel I’m close enough to fuck with them in a way. My up and coming album is called "Infidelity" and it certainly has that aspect. These days I don't practice anything but in my past there were rabbis and gurus and cults and months worth of vipasana retreats. Being raised Jewish I feel I have quite a high degree of grounding in them...I always thought if I wasn't a musician, I'd study comparative religion. I moved this year [to Berlin] and I believe that being removed from the craziness of Israel will help me see things more clearly and have the confidence to speak out more. It's always been my default to go into dreamy, melancholic, highly personal states in songwriting but I think this is also due to just needing to escape the political realm that is constantly in your face in Israel.
Your music takes on quite a few different cultures in crossing what could be considered traditional English folk elements to more esoteric Indian elements…the result is a darkly beautiful mixture and this is certainly complimented by your intuitive attitude to music. For example, a few years ago you collaborated with a group of Indian musicians to record an album based on James Joyce's Chamber Music...I'm intrigued...can you tell us a bit about it? The James Joyce Project is a perfect example for that dreamy, melancholic, highly personal state I mentioned earlier. The poems describe a love affair between two musicians that ends badly. My story is simple: I was jilted; I was in India; and I was obsessed with Chamber Music. It didn't occur to me that this was at all peculiar until The Joyce Estate rejected me permission to use the poems. ("While your music is very pleasant, I can but wonder whether this is appropriate for James Joyce's poems" was the way they put it!). So, though the project was finished in 2004, it's been kept secret until now. This year Joyce's work finally becomes public domain and I can do with it whatever I please....appropriate or not. The Indian musicians I worked with (Hemad KamalSarangi and Ali Abas-Shenai) could not understand Joyce's words but that didn't disturb them from understanding the mood.
My next question relates to following your intuition and the development of your individuality and independence. At a young age you’d joined a choir rehearsing six times a week and roaming Europe performing with them. With a promising career ahead of you and against the wishes and advice of your tutors, you rejected the classical underpinning of Western music and chose to study Dhrupad in India under Master Ritwik Sanyal...what is it that propelled you to follow your intuition and heart to move to India for 6 years and effectively reject what must have seemed like a very promising future...was it purely musical? The sense of adventure? Well the first time I went to India was in the summer when I was twenty years old. Though I was training to be an opera singer and performing quite a bit with various orchestras, my heart was with Eastern philosophy. I used to go looking for these strange books in the basement of the ‘new‘ - and very seedy - Tel-Aviv central bus station/shopping mall. In the Russian shops, you could find lots of rare books all piled together: Lots of porn and how to learn Urdu in thirty days. So, through reading The Bhagavadgita and Patanjali's Yoga Sutras and all, I became obsessed with learning to meditate and achieving ‘higher consciousness’. At the same time, I was attending a prestigious International Opera
course in Tel-Aviv run by people from the Met in New York. Each singer was assigned a vocal coach to mould his/her voice, a language/style coach making it all precise and musical, a director telling the singer how to act and a conductor waving his/her hands in the air. The music and lyrics were already written by someone else, probably long dead. Basically, I felt like a trained seal: as long as I had a loud, pleasant voice I could be a complete moron because someone else will be doing the artistic work. Like some girls, not me, complain about people only looking at their breasts. I felt that people were only interested in my voice and not what I had to say. Then came the question that lingers: Do I have anything to say? And to who? As I said, in India I learned to Improvise which was a great way to figure out what I'm made of musically and on another level, I had to leave my family and Israel far behind to work out what I'm made of mentally and spiritually. I didn't perform at all in those six years and tried to unlearn allot of what I was taught, I figured the good stuff would stay with me. I've read somewhere that artists are generally more content with who they are and are more in touch with their individuality...this has always made me think of the relationship between creativity, artistic expression and a sense of purpose...recently Tracey Emin is quoted as saying, "If I'm not doing art, I
feel like I'm dying!" What do you feel the connection is between artistic expression and individuality? Do you feel more content being creative than at any other time? What’s the process like for you? How to answer this question without being disgusting? I can't. Art is like shit. Some people just need to take the things they see and understand from life and digest them and expel them as art Once you realize this is how your brain works, not creating feels like being constipated. So... definitely more content being creative. Then when we get into being a professional artist, this metaphor gets a bit dodgy even though I heard there's an exhibition in London now called Dirt which features a sculpture made from human waste. As I see it, to be worthy of audiences’ time and money, the artist must constantly challenge their own ideas and perceptions and be very open and hopefully stumble along some totally unique way of showing something. People are obsessed with being creative - especially here in Berlin - but often don't take time to see what life is before getting up on stage and ranting about it, while imitating somebody else's style. I don't think artists are generally more content with who they are. I suppose if you create something you like, as dark and painful as the process may have been, you're super happy for a while and it all seems worth it till the next time you're down.
And having moved to Berlin recently from Israel…how is it suiting you? What do you like to do? What is it you like and dislike about it? Well, against everyone's advice I moved to Berlin in December after spending most of my winters either in Israel or in India. I had no idea how much the cold would get to me. So I wrote a lot of new songs but didn't explore the city as much as I'd hoped. I did get to know a few great venues. Schokoladen and Madame Claude are my favorites. Coming from Israel and living in Germany has some connotations. My parents visited recently and it was the first time for either of them in Germany. Most of my father's family were wiped out during the holocaust and he never planned to visit so when they were here, we did the Jewish tour. That was very interesting and thought provoking. What I love about Berlin is a sense of freedom. You can smoke a joint under a policeman's nose and it won't seem too peculiar. And in my neighborhood most building walls are graffitied and stay that way; individual expression is leaking out of the walls. You've travelled extensively and experienced a lot of cultures that are widely different from each other...how do you think this enriches your music?
Experiencing different cultures has helped me understand who I am without the context. Sometimes I wish I had a tradition that I loved and that was mine. In India there were times I wished I was Indian so I could sing these texts and that there would be a similar prayer in my own language that I had a very strong connection to. It's different for instrumentalists, but Western singers, I don't believe Indians take them seriously in the classical music arena. I'm sidetracking. In Orthodox Judaism, women aren't aloud to sing. A woman's voice is like her nakedness and should not be heard in public. This forced me to take a nontraditional approach from the start or just shut up – actually, I could have just performed for women if I wanted to but that's a whole new issue… Travelling also made me appreciate my own culture. In India, I was surprised to find Jewish mystical texts that blew my mind and were no less sparkling than the HinduBuddhist doctrines that led me there. As far as artistic expression goes, in general, I think the more one’s experienced, the more one has interesting material. But, then again, I love Emily Dickinson and she hardly left her bedroom.
“What I love about Berlin is a sense of freedom. You can smoke a joint under a policeman’s nose and it won’t seem too peculiar.”
www.myspace.com/avitalraz www.last.fm/music/Avital+Raz twitter.com/avitalraz
Urban architecture surrounds me. Its presence is there from the moment I walk out of my front door, seeking a way into my work. An artist's surroundings are always an influence of some kind whether obvious or not, and living here in the metropolis of Manchester, walking around its maze of towering structures and overlapping planes, I'm pleasantly subjected to a constant visual bombardment of geometric forms. I'm drawn to the aesthetic pattern present in architecture, to it's repetitive nature, and it's decorative anatomy. I try to strike a balance between painting a representational image and abstraction in order to provide the viewer with enough information to understand what's being seen, whilst allowing them to appreciate the physical elements in a more formalist way on the canvas. There is an almost Utopian feel to the paintings, whose colours instil warmth and positivity to the viewer despite what some might consider a bleak concrete subject. There is beauty to be had in the brutalism; beauty in the strength of form and weight, structure and presence, which I endeavour to present in the paint.
Clair Graubner has always been creative and taught herself to paint using various media in her spare time. More recently, she decided to invest in her art fully, and complete a degree in Fine Art painting at Manchester Metropolitan University. She successfully juggles her artistic practice, university studies, and home life as a mother to three daughters. Clair has also been featured in several magazine publications and has enjoyed exhibiting in six previous shows in and around Manchester, including the prestigious Holden Gallery. She is excited about her future as an artist, despite the current political climate and funding cuts, and is dedicated to continuing her work and committing to the art world whole-heartedly.
By Sarah Handyside and Rebecca Owens 24:7 Theatre: a title that fittingly represents a city constantly in motion and at the core of culture, cherished for its delightful roundabout of creativity. This city is of course Manchester, home to the 24:7 team who will be returning with their much praised annual festival between the 21st and the 29th of July this year. In the anticipation of their next trunkful of theatrical talent they have to be commended for what they have already brought to Manchester’s arts scene and the nationwide theatre community. The festival’s focus is on helping emerging artists (be they writers, directors or actors) to prosper. This is achieved by providing a platform from which material can be collated, rehearsed and performed publicly. As can be imagined, for any burgeoning artist this experience is nothing short of invaluable. As
Photo ŠNeale Myers
well as providing a confidence boost it allows them insight into their own craft and the chance for the writers and directors to shoulder the responsibility of producing their work for the stage. David Slack was performing at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in 2002 when he first came up with the idea for 24:7. The Fringe is renowned for its incredibly varied selection of performances, but it was the connection with unknown artists that struck him as inspired. Wanting to make Manchester and the North West a similarly important cultural hub, he created the same opportunity here for audiences to experience the best of new theatre, and for undiscovered artists to find an outlet for their work. He talked to Blankpages about just how important this exposure is: “24:7 gives artists the encouragement that it is feasible to get their plays performed well and out to an audience on a low budget. This chance to showcase work is especially crucial to the writers, who can often get feedback off their scripts but are hard pressed to find a way of determining how well they will work live.” As 24:7 continues to mine the concealed cavern of fresh artistry, amateur scripts have not been left to get dog eared in cupboards but have instead been scrutinised and evaluated by a panel of 30-40 specialist writers. From this selection process we
have been treated to everything from a police officer with a clashing pair of fairy wings encroaching upon a bookish student, the killing off of a childhood imaginary friend, and a fragmented exploration of dementia! This rich tapestry of work hails from last year’s productions and when examining 24:7’s extensive archive it is impressive to see how loaded with ingenuity each play has been. Many have gone on to win awards and achieve high critical acclaim. 2010’s Islanders is one such play. Set in the Farne Islands off Northumberland’s coast it follows a lone thinker, a man trying to stay true to the hermit tradition of his homeland. This play is currently enjoying a successful tour after winning the MEN Award for Fringe Production. Leading actor Mark Frampton was also nominated for Best Fringe Performance. In commenting on his experience of being part of last year’s festival, he explained how actors also reap the benefits of collaborating on these projects: “The 24:7 festival is a great way for an unknown actor to get his or her face shown... It was a very enjoyable experience and everyone was very friendly and well organised. It has given me the opportunity to continue the show on a national tour and the fact that it put me in the position to be nominated for an award really helped. The fact that anyone can have that chance to win or be nominated for an award is brilliant and it can really be beneficial when it comes to the hard task of finding
an agent, which for an actor is the first step but a very important one.”
that 24:7 is not all about polished work but about practice and adjusting promising scripts.
Islanders writer Dick Curran will return this year with his new play Keep it Simple. This is not uncommon; a good number of the writers are seemingly unable to stay away! Also back is Joyce Branagh who wrote and directed 2010’s Sheepish, a surprising and inventive play based on Beckett’s Waiting for Godot. It features some charismatic sheep, waiting in a field for their friend to take them to a party. As they stand around all manner of fantasies lift them into a world of slalom skiing, motorbike racing and rocket trips to outer space. Sheepish received praise for its originality and exploration of what it means to step away from the crowd. This year Branagh is taking another flight into the imagination with Peggy and the Spaceman in which a young girl meets Yuri Gagarin, the first human to ever travel into space. The play is extremely topical, celebrating the 50th anniversary of Gagarin’s journey which was commemorated in April of this year. It is also the first Family Friendly play to be staged as part of the festival, aiming to make 24:7 accessible to a wider theatre going audience. Another interesting entrant to this year is The Shadow of Your Hand by Matthew Stewart. Entered into last year’s competition it was chosen as one of six scripts to be sent away for mentoring to fine tune it for the stage. This year we will see the finished piece, proving
24:7 has grown tremendously and to date has showcased 123 new plays by 95 different writers in 24 non-theatre spaces around Manchester. It has certainly fulfilled David Slack’s intention of bringing pioneering Fringe culture to Manchester and is now a less daunting, more viable alternative for new artists in this part of the country. As well as offering lower performance costs and greater financial security, the 24:7 team actively support their artists through the production process. They provide scores and feedback to all of the entrants, put writers inexperienced as producers in contact with other artists who can work with them, and have now started expanding outside of the festival in order to provide their artists with year round opportunities to get their shows seen. By nurturing the art form at its very roots they are undoubtedly leading the way for Manchester’s future in theatre. They have just received continuing support from the Manchester Arts Council when artistic companies such as Manchester’s Greenroom theatre (which gained notoriety for its wealth of new and alternative works) are sadly closing due to lack of funds. In these times we will look to projects like 24:7 to ensure the continuation of Manchester’s long and outstanding relationship with theatre.
Manchester Modernist Society The Manchester modernist society champions 20th century architecture and related art and design in Greater Manchester. We were founded in May 2009 by Maureen Ward, Jack Hale and Eddy Rhead, and are just coming up to our second birthday. We amble around the streets, we show films, we devise exhibitions and sometimes commission artists... and we are about to launch a new magazine ‘the modernist’. We are not architects, preservationists or activists, though we do know a number of each of these. We are not radicals, situationists, academics or psycho-geographers, though we are lucky to count a few of these mythical creatures as our friends. We do share their passion that the city continues to be a place for poetry and dreaming as well as business and commerce, where its citizens are more than machines for living and consuming. We are a small band of urban enthusiasts, amateurs and latter day dandies, passionate observers of the city and its social cultural and built environment. We believe that none of these phenomena exist in isolation but rely on each other to flourish and foster and create the living tangle of the throbbing metropolis that we call home. We believe that the recent past and its rich variety of grand and ordinary, cherished and neglected buildings continue to play a part in our shared
www.manchestermodernistsociety.org www.the-modernist-mag.co.uk/“
consciousness and sense of identity, continue to influence who we are and remind us of how we worked, rested and played. We are keen to foster and help develop a greater public awareness of the rich and complex relationship between architecture, art and design and public space, and draw attention to the precarious nature of much of the 20th century backdrop that we often mistakenly take for granted. We aim to create a real space for discussing, engaging and enjoying, perhaps occasionally even campaigning for, the multilayered complexities of a city that is comfortable to wear its carbuncled heart on its sleeve. Not for us the smooth uniformity of a relentlessly brand new city that is too intimidating to use. We meet and gather, mooch, amble, collaborate, make connections, gently protest and point things out where we see fit. We speculate, agitate, cogitate, publicise, dream and philosophise over afternoon tea, on walks, talks and various outings.. Oh, and we like to think of ‘Modern’ as meaning 1914 -1999... but we’re not strict. Our favourite blog at the moment is Grain Edit which features mainly graphic design work from the 50’s to the 70’s and is a constant delight and inspiration.
For next month’s Blankpicks, we take a look at Kevin Bradshaw’s ‘I Blog Every Day’...
Forthcoming Forthcoming Events Events
Not PArt OF Various Locations, Manchester, Runs till July 16 From the 30th of June to the 16th of July you are invited to put your finger on the creative pulse of Manchester and see what happens when a festival stops treating artists as a revenue stream and gives them total freedom of self-expression. notpartof.org/
Film Tube Sandbar, Manchester, July 13 8.30pm Film Tube is a casual film night that screens funny, daft and interesting animations, short films, clips and tom foolery from around the world. No serious, frumpy film night here. Audiences are welcome to chat, drink and banter during screenings. www.sandbaronline.net/
MAnchester Art Crawl Various Locations, Manchester, July 2-16 The Manchester Art Crawl is an artist led event originally devised by art students at Manchester School of Art and is one of the official events of the ‘Not Part Of’ festival running alongside The Manchester International Festival. MCR | AC Debuted in 2009 with great success and is back in 2011. The MCR | AC takes the form of a visual arts festival revitalising art, non art, abandoned and occupied spaces alike. The driving force behind The Crawl is to create a large scale inclusive platform for contemporary artists living and working in Manchester and beyond in order to stimulate ideas, develop and show work to an international audience at a time when Manchester has the spotlight on less inclusive events. manchesterartcrawl.co.uk/
Drink ‘N’ Draw Sandbar, Manchester, July 31 6.00pm Headed by the Manchester Comix Collective, feel free to join in with Drink ‘N’ Draw - a casual drawing drawing involving workshops, activities and games. Excellent opportunity for Manchester based illustrators and cartoonists to network. www.sandbaronline.net/ Re-Covering Untitled Gallery, Manchester, Runs till July 31 Curated by Mike Chavez-Dawson, Re-Covering is an exhibition of works by 40 local and international artists who redesign the cover of an influential book onto a reclaimed piece of oak from school libraries. www.untitledgallerymanchester.com
The Imploding Inevitable with Laura Martin Dulcimer, Chorlton August 3 Laura Martin is haunted by, and slightly obsessed with; Lalo Schifrin, Japanese folklore, Jethro Tull and Woodie Guthrire, and counts Madlib, Neil Young, Devendra Banhart, Wu Tang Clan and David Bowie among her influences. Her music displays an ingenuity and passion for appealing, yet intricate composition, encompassing aspects of traditional folk with a more up to date electronic twist. All in evidence, when she takes to the stage armed with trusty flute, mandolin, microphone, a loop station and no small amount of talent! Laura released her debut 7” ‘Doki Doki’ in 2008 and has been steadily crafting her own space in the UK music scene ever since. Look out for her incredible live show at this year’s festivals and more releases coming soon. And this We would say that Laura J Martin is a pretty unique young artist. It is a grand statement, we agree, but certainly we’ve yet to come across another flute wielding, piano playing, mandolin toting singersongwriter. Not only does she compose and play all the parts of her music, but also produces the songs too – she is indeed a one-lady-band for the 21st century. www.myspace.com/lalajmartin
THE PRODUCTION OF CURATION Rogue Project Space, Manchester, July 1-2, Preview July 1st, 6-8pm A collaborative curatorial experiment by Taneesha Amhed. Supported by Cornerhouse and Paul Hamlyn Foundation for Micro Commision projects. The exhibition is also a part of the Manchester Art Crawl. theproductionofcuration.posterous.com/
Ear To the Ground? To include your event or recommend someone else’s in a future issue just email us with your event title, location, date, time and a short description. Editor@ blankmediacollective.org (max 100 words)
this month in BLANKMEDIACOLLECTIVE... Call for Submissions
i
NO.1: PAINT
THE TITLE ART PRIZE
BLANKSPACE, Manchester Deadline for submissions July 8
BLANKSPACE, Manchester Deadline for submissions September 9
In our digital age, when images are reproducible at the touch of a button, does painting retain a quality that can only be experienced as you stand in front of the original artwork? Is it possible to comprehend the artist’s visual language without explanation - without words? No.1: Paint will place the focus on the artist’s particular relationship with their chosen medium and less on the ‘concept’ of the work. In fact no written statement about the works is required on submission, with selection being based purely on the visual nature of the pieces. Blank Media Collective is interested in accepting submissions of work that treats the concept of ‘painting’ in an experimental manner alongside the more traditional. We are open to accept submissions of 2D, 3D and performance pieces which premium paint as their chosen medium. www.blankmediacollective.org/news/comments/ exhibition_opportunity_no.1_paint
To celebrate 5 years of supporting emerging practitioners, Blank Media Collective is launching an important new art prize in Manchester. We are looking for exciting visual artists from the UK working within any medium, concept or scale to submit new works. All shortlisted works will be shown within The Title Art Prize exhibition forming Blank Media Collective’s fifth birthday celebrations. Four winners will be selected by a panel of established artists, curators and directors, with each artist receiving prizes to help benefit their future creative practice. A fifth winner will then be selected through the People’s Choice Award. The Title Art Prize exhibition will be shortlisted and curated by the Blank Media Collective curatorial team. www.blankmediacollective.org/news/comments/ opportunity_the_title_art_prize
EXPLOGRAPHY & BEGINNERS PHOTOGRAPHY WORKSHOPS BLANKSPACE, Manchester Runs till August 7
This summer Blank Media Collective will be facilitating a series of photography workshops led by artist Chris Leyland. These workshops will comprise of 4 sessions held over 8 weeks, so there’s plenty of time for you to practice what you learn! If you have an interest in photography then come and join us… For more info on the sessions please click the following link: www.blankmediacollective.org/events/details/ explography_beginners_photography_workshops_ at_blankspace
In_Tuition is an open forum for creatives based in the North West. An opportunity for artists to talk about their work and inspire others through creative understanding, musing and action! In_Tuition (Fine Art) BLANKSPACE, Manchester July 5 6.30-8.30pm In_Tuition (Creative Writing) BLANKSPACE, Manchester July 12 6.30-8.30pm In_Tuition (Moving Image) BLANKSPACE, Manchester July 19 6.30-8.30pm In_Tuition (PHOTOGRAPHY) BLANKSPACE, Manchester July 26 6.30-8.30pm
Submissions Callout
blankpages is renewing its callout for contributions. Every month we showcase writers, artists and musicians who deserve to share their work with the wider arts community and the public as a whole. An established literary and visual standard within both the digital and non web-based arts sphere, it is fast becoming a well respected and widely read publication with a dedicated following that grows with each edition.
Why submit work to blankpages? We believe in support. Submitting to blankpages is more than getting your work published. We try to provide honest, creative and critical feedback when you submit, as well as any advice or information we can give you on how to market yourself as a writer how to get your work noticed outside of blankpages, as well as within our large arts community. We also work closely with several other organisations, venues and writers’ collectives, so we can help support you and your work. If you’re interested in performance poetry, we have our own space, and are always interested in working with
talented performers. blankpages is about supporting all artists, not just writers. If your work crosses genres, that’s fine with us. As we’re digital, we have the means to publish visual and sound based accompaniments to your work. Each month our dedicated visual design team will work with your submission, creating bespoke illustrative accompaniments, all housed within our trademark unique and beautiful layout. We’re looking for talented creatives with a unique style and ability to produce interesting pieces. New works are preferred, but previously published pieces will be considered. Proof reading is boring. We’d much rather spend time reading and enjoying your submissions. Please check work for spelling, grammar and punctuation errors before sending it in. Please submit a short biography with your work so we can learn more about you.
How to Submit We constantly check the online portfolios, and this is a great way to be seen. Just create a profile on the Blank Media Collective website, upload up to ten pieces of work, click on the option to
include your work in blankpages and/or email us a link and we will consider your work for future issues. Alternatively you can send your work for consideration by the relevant content editor by emailing editor@blankmediacollective.org
Visual Artists
All our featured artists are sourced through the Blank Media Collective portfolios. To be considered, upload at least 4 high resolution images (minimum 300dpi) and bear in mind that we may want to feature you as the cover artist. Please include your pieces’ names and any information you feel is relevant to each image.
Poets All lengths and forms are welcome, as are varying stylistic approaches. Word limit is down to you, but we’d ask that you discuss any works longer than 30 lines each with the editor. We’re looking for no more than 3 – 4 medium length poems; 2 maximum if larger in length.
Prose Fiction Writers Stories should be between 1000 and 2500 words (although shorter or longer works may be considered). All styles and themes are accepted, and we are looking for originality, insight and wit.
Musicians We welcome musical submissions from any genre, providing the recording is of a suitable industry standard. If your submission is selected for publication you will be asked to provide at least one high resolution image (minimum 300dpi) that you feel represents you as well as possible. The image can be of you/your band or can be abstract in nature. Please supply a .wav, .mp3 or .aiff formatted file, at a minimum bitrate of 320kb/s. blankpages is dedicated to giving a high quality platform to share your work – we love reading your submissions and will always try to respond with feedback. If you’d like to discuss your work or would like some feedback before submitting, please feel free to get in touch – email editor@ blankmediacollective.org, for the attention of the relevant content editor. Please note; if email submissions are unavailable, mail submissions will be accepted. If you wish your work to be returned, please include a SAE. Mail submissions should be sent to blankpages Editorial, BLANKSPACE, 43 Hulme Street, Manchester, M15 6AW
Blank Media Collective Team: Director: Mark Devereux Co-Director: John Leyland Financial Administrator: Martin Dale Strategic Development Consultant: Chris Maloney Development Coordinators: Dwight Clarke, Elaine Mateer & Jez Dolan Community Arts & Learning Coordinators: Chris Leyland & Jo Foxall Communications Coordinators: Shahram Agha-Kasiri Information Manager: Sylvia Coates Volunteer Coordinator: Matt Hughes Website Designers: Simon Mills & Henry Roberts Exhibition Curators: Mark Devereux, Jamie Hyde, Kate Charlton, Peter Fallon, Beth Kwant, Sophie Barnes & Rose Barraclough Moving Image Curator: Christina Millare Documentary Filmmakers: Charalampos Politakis & Insa Langhorst BlankMarket Coordinator: Michael Valks Official Photographers: Gareth Hacking & Iain Goodyear
blankpages Team: Editor: John Leyland Editorial Assistant: Catherine Teague Feature Editors: Sarah Handyside & Rebecca Owens Fiction Editor: Kevin Bradshaw Poetry Editor: Abigail Ledger-Lomas Music Editor: Baz Wilkinson Visual Editor / Designer: Michael Thorp