QW ERT Y & YOU
ISSU E 0 01
A look at Little Red Riding Hood, a short story, a recipe, a paper toy & artists images, all for you.
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Welcome to the first edition
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Q&U aims to assist emerging and established artists to put their work out there. We are passionate about design and strive to provide writers, poets, painters, illustrators (and any artist with a unique creative talent) with a professional platform from which to distribute their work. Q&U provides quality literature, information and imagery for everyone to enjoy. We hope it will make some established publishers sit-up and take notice of emerging creativity and will provide a stepping-stone for artists seeking to publish their material. This edition examines the fairytale of Little Red Riding Hood, a cautionary folk tale about a young girl and a wolf. As a literary work , it has a considerable history and has been subject to numerous adaptations. Besides the overt warning of stranger danger, the classic fairy tale has many interpretations, many of them sexual. Included is the earliest-known printed version, by Charles Perrault. Known as Le Petit Chaperon Rouge it dates back to 17th-century French folklore. Printed recipes have been tried and tested, illustrations are of varying styles and mediums, and the short stories and poems are perfect for reading in front of an open fire with a nice glass of red (or a shot of tequila if you prefer). Inclusion is by selection process only. To have your work considered, please email Q&U at andrew@studioqwerty.com.au. We hope you enjoy the work featured in this edition, created by some of the most talented artists in Australia today.
Andrew Weatherill.
www.studioqwerty.com.au Thank you to our wonderful contributors: Karin Cox, Thomas Hamlyn-Harris, Rachelle Austen, Kristin Tennyson, Johnny Cash and Justine Austen. Q&U zine Issue 001 First published in September 2010 Front cover: Kristin Tennyson, red takes her revenge. Back cover: Thomas Hamlyn-Harris, Wolfie.
© Q&U studioqwerty.com.au 2010 © Text and images remain the property of the artist. All rights reserved. No part of this zine may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission. For information, address Q&U @ Studio QWERTY, PO Box 2008, Hotham Hill, Victoria, 3051.
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Little Red Riding Hood
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Little Red Riding Hood is a tale many of us have been familiar with since childhood, yet its guise of simplicity conceals far more complex allusions. This tale of a wolf in Grandma’s clothing, luring the naïve, flamboyantly-robed girl into its lair, cautions against the charm that might lead a “young lady” into the lascivious bed of a wayward gent; however, as a literary work, perhaps no fairytale resonates with the evolving face of publishing, or with the author’s need to remain alert, than this folk tale, making it a fitting choice for the inaugural issue of Q&U — a magazine designed to “speak” to the artist in all of us. Folk tales are the “Creative Commons” stories of their time. Passed on in oral tradition and told in the fields, on the farms and in the villages, they were designed as thrillers that would titillate and scare children while instilling in them the moral values and social mores of the age. Today, “Disneyfication” and a trend towards protecting children from some of the world’s nasty truths have seen many such tales sanitised. While Perrault’s version is the earliest written form (and one of the few in which the heroine meets a grisly fate) the tale predates its publication and has been adapted and altered many times since it first became prevalent in 14th-Century Europe. Incredibly, its message remains relevant. To my mind, the story’s popularity serves as an especial reminder to creative content producers that sometimes sharing, and actively encouraging adaptation, can prolong the life of a tale, and with it the fame of its creator. In today’s publishing market, where wolves lurk in the doorway of vanity publishers and some newly created but short-on-experience exploitative ebook publishers, it might also remind creators that they would do well to heed the tale’s warnings and ask the difficult questions before they jump into bed with a publisher. It might be the case of “What big lists you have”—“All the better to obscure you in”; or perhaps, “What big Authors you have”— “all the better to give newbies no marketing budget”. There are many wolves threatening the wannabe author, not least the lean, hungry ones at the door. In the case of Q&U, a zine that is undecidedly on the creator’s side, the refrain may well be: “What big dreams you have”—“All the better to inspire you with.” Enjoy.
Karin Cox.
“I’ll go this way, and you go that, and we shall see who will be there soonest.”
Little Red Riding-Hood Le Petit Chaperon Rouge Charles Perrault
Want to try some delicious, authentic girdle-cakes? Prep Time: 10 minutes Cook Time: 10 minutes Total Time: 20 minutes
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Ingredients: 1 cup flour 1/2 teaspoon baking soda 1/4 teaspoon salt 1/2 teaspoon baking powder 1 cup milk 1 or 2 tablespoons butter, melted Preparation: Sift four, salt and baking powder together. Mix milk and baking soda together. Combine together and mix until smooth. Pour in melted butter. Pour 1/8 of the batter onto hot griddle for each griddle cake. Flip when they brown on the bottom and start to bubble on the top. Remove as soon as they are done and take them to grandmother.
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nce upon a time, there lived in a certain village, a little country girl, the prettiest creature was ever seen. Her mother was excessively fond of her; and her grand-
mother doated on her much more. This good woman got made for her a little red riding-hood; which became the girl so extremely well, that every body called her Little Red Riding-Hood. One day, her mother, having made some girdle-cakes, said to her: “Go, my dear, and see how thy grand-mamma does, for I hear she has been very ill, carry her a girdle-cake, and this little pot of butter.” Little Red Riding-Hood set out immediately to go to her grandmother, who lived in another village. As she was going thro’ the wood, she met with Gaffer Wolf, who had a very great mind to eat her up, but he durst not, because of some faggot-makers hard by in the forest. He asked her whither she was going. The poor child, who did not know that it was dangerous to stay and hear a Wolf talk, said to him: “I am going to see my grand-mamma, and carry her a girdle-cake, and a little pot of butter, from my mamma.” “Does she live far off?” said the Wolf. “Oh! ay,” answered Little Red Riding-Hood, “it is beyond that mill you see there, at the first house in the village.” “Well,” said the Wolf, “and I’ll go and see her too: I’ll go this way,
Artist: Tennyson Kristin
and you go that, and we shall see who will be there soonest.”
Want to make yourself a RED HOOD
The Wolf began to run as fast as he could, taking the nearest way; gathering nuts, running after butterflies, and making nosegays of such little flowers as she met with. The Wolf was not long before he got to the old woman’s house: he knocked at the door, tap, tap. “Who’s there?”
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and the little girl went by that farthest about, diverting herself in
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“Your grand-child, Little Red Riding-Hood,” replied the Wolf, counterfeiting her voice, “who has brought you a girdle-cake, and a little pot of butter, sent you by mamma.” The good grand-mother, who was in bed, because she found herself somewhat ill, cry’d out: “Pull the peg, and the bolt will fall.”
Stitch dart in hood. Cut away fold of dart 6mm from stitching, crease seam open.
The Wolf pull’d the peg, and the door opened, and then presently he fell upon the good woman, and ate her up in a moment; for it was above three days that he had not touched a bit. He then shut the door, and went into the grand-mother’s bed, expecting Little Red Riding-Hood, who came some time afterwards, and knock’d at the door, tap, tap. “Who’s there?”
Pin hood sections, right sides together and stitch. Fold front to inside on facing line. Stitch 6mm form raw edge.
Little Red Riding-Hood, hearing the big voice of the Wolf, was at first afraid; but believing her grand-mother had got a cold, and was hoarse, answered: “’Tis your grand-child, Little Red Riding-Hood, who has brought you a girdle-cake, and a little pot of butter, mamma sends you.”
Fold lower edge to inside on casing line. Stitch close to raw edge.
The Wolf cried out to her, softening his voice as much as he could, “Pull the peg, and the bolt will fall.” Little Red Riding-Hood pulled the peg, and the door opened. The Wolf seeing her come in, said to her, hiding himself under the bedclothes: “Put the cake, and the little pot of butter upon the bread-bin, and come and lye down with me.”
Insert ribbon thru casing.
Little Red Riding-Hood undressed herself, and went into bed; where, being greatly amazed to see how her grand-mother looked in her night-cloaths, she said to her: “Grand-mamma, what great arms you have got!” “That is the better to hug thee, my dear.” “Grand-mamma, what great legs you have got!” “That is to run the better, my child.” “Grand-mamma, what great ears you have got!” “That is to hear the better, my child.” “Grand-mamma, what great eyes you have got!” “It is to see the better, my child.” “Grand-mamma, what great teeth you have got!” “That is to eat thee up.” And, saying these words, this wicked Wolf fell upon poor Little Red Riding-Hood, and ate her all up.
The Moral
Artist: Tennyson Kristin
From this short story easy we discern What conduct all young people ought to learn. But above all, young, growing misses fair, Whose orient rosy blooms begin t’appear: Who, beauties in the fragrant spring of age, With pretty airs young hearts are apt t’engage. Ill do they listen to all sorts of tongues, Since some inchant and lure like Syrens’ songs. No wonder therefore ‘tis, if over-power’d, So many of them has the Wolf devour’d. The Wolf, I say, for Wolves too sure there are Of every sort, and every character. Some of them mild and gentle-humour’d be, Of noise and gall, and rancour wholly free; Who tame, familiar, full of complaisance Ogle and leer, languish, cajole and glance; With luring tongues, and language wond’rous sweet, Follow young ladies as they walk the street, Ev’n to their very houses, nay, bedside, And, artful, tho’ their true designs they hide; Yet ah! these simpering Wolves! Who does not see Most dangerous of Wolves indeed they be?
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bbbbbbbbb Tennyson Kristin, Mr Wolf & his Quarry.
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www.inavatof.com
WO LFie by Thomas Hamlyn-Harris 2
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FOLD & SECURE “FRONT TO BACK”
Stitches Karin Cox
Steel sharpened slice, slick the sides with yellow butter. Spread muffins’ delicate parts, like surgery.
Crumbs cluster like nurses, or children at gates before school.
Slip over them, stitch up with sticky fingers the warm blueberry tongue. I have warned you before, not to lick your knife.
Artist: Rachelle Austen
The fight Karin Cox
“Any second now, man.” The Mexican grinned, chafing a bar stool over the dirt floor and positioning it to get a better view of the fight. The two adversaries took little notice. They circled each other warily, eyes bright with the lure of blood, muscles flexed taut under goose-fleshed skin, waiting for that snap when everything would descend to sweat and effort, kicking, clawing and screaming in the dust. At Thirsty’s Bar it was anything goes. That’s what made it so unpredictable. “Is on — on like Donkey Kong. You know that, man, Donkey Kong?” The Mexican’s broad mouth lisped the question. The stranger didn’t respond. He was trying to discern whether the Mexican had a speech impediment or whether he was just one drink short of falling down. He decided on the latter. As if to cement his decision, his jaw stopped sawing away at a wad of chewing tobacco and he streamed it out like thin brown piss between the gap in his front teeth. It hit the floor with a splatter, mingling with the filth that sludged from the drip tray at the bar’s base. “Nice bar you got here,” he quipped, his eyes all the time dissecting the fighters, examining their size and form. “But you don’t know what you’re talking about. My money’s on that fella,” he jabbed a stumpy finger in the direction of his bet. “Him? Strutting like a godamn peacock.” The Mexican took a swill of Cerveza and let out a high-pitched whinnying laugh. “You don’t know shit about fighting, man!” “You want to try me.” The stranger’s eyes narrowed. “Hey hey,” sweat from the beer he’d been cradling gleamed on the Mexican’s upturned palms, “calm down, now. Ain’t no need to be getting all uptight, man, just because my cock’s bigger than yours.” The Mexican brayed again, revealing the yellow pits in the back of his lower jaw where teeth had once been. Wouldn’t mind knocking a few more out of this little prick, the stranger thought, but there was no point. He turned side on and faced the action. As soon as the bell rang, the throng pushed forward, thrumming against the makeshift ring, belting out their support or hatred. The largest of the two made the first move — a sharp strike that sent a plume of blood spurting into the dirt and made the smaller, weaker fighter stumble momentarily. “Tear his head off,” the Mexican screamed, grinning wider as he noticed the split skin on the face of the losing fighter. The slackened muscles, the dangling head, the battered defeat lying just beneath the surface didn’t bode well for the stranger’s bet.
“Come on.” The stranger’s voice was forced, guttural. “Kill that f*cker!” “You reckon he listen to you, eh, small cock?” The Mexican tilted his head like a bewildered dog. “Maybe he does, eh? See he smash him right on the back. Eh,” he called out, “Eh, you leave my boy alone, Peacock.” The stranger grimaced. The din in the bar was becoming unbearable, and the stench was even worse. “Ha! He shit himself. See, your boy, he goin’ to lose, man,” wheezed the Mexican. “He lost control man. He shit on the floor!” He added a crescendo of braying to the ruckus of the bar. “Bust his guts out,” he urged, standing to see better and sending his bar stool hurtling to the floor. The stranger clenched his fists, resisting the urge to snap the bar stool over the smaller man’s head. Blood streamed from both fighters now, pattering onto the floor and speckling the sweaty faces of those who crowded in to watch, their eyes shining with bloodlust. Beer, shit, and the grim pungency of fear filled the stranger’s nostrils. He could barely see the fighters, save for when they rose momentarily from the dust, their fighting colours leaking shades of crimson, their legs weak but their will to live pulsating in the darkened bar. One of the fighters crumpled to the floor, his dangling eye trailing beside him, his eye-socket empty. The stranger turned away. He’d waited too long. All the bets had been laid. He should have stopped it before now. Why hadn’t he? He knew deep down that it was the money, and he hated himself for it. Walking over to the bar, he swept a burly arm across it, brushing the dough into a rough pile. “Hold it right there,” he flipped the badge out of his top pocket and held it up in front of the Mexican. “You’re all under arrest for illegal gambling and cock fighting.” On the bloodied floor of the bar, a pile of iridescent feathers glimmered and grew cold.
Artist: Tennyson Kristin
Artist – Kristin Tennyson
‘Nannification is a softening of the hardness of gun & criminal culture’.
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ristin Tennyson continues to push the boundaries of surface treatment, exploring the relationship between luscious texture and dark imagery. Kristin draws from
her Canadian heritage juxtaposing the sinister notions of game hunting with the traditionally delicate domestic crafts of lacework and tapestry to create – as Kristin puts it – ‘nannification’. While exploring the media’s sensationalism of the past and present criminal culture, Kristin allows the imagination of her audience to interpret the story and relate to her imagery for themselves. Subjects may often be sinister while still presenting humanity and dignity the viewer can identify with. Dark figures express the reality of
A look at the reality of criminality, juxtaposed with the usual elements of gangster melodrama: loyalty, pride, and revenge. Venue: Cairns Regional Gallery 27 August 2010 - 3 October 2010
criminality, exposing the notion of loyalty, pride and revenge. Using canvas, vinyl and wallpaper surfaces, her technique though figurative has a high degree of simplification and abstraction. The looseness of Kristin’s gestural brushstrokes and exposed canvas captures and expresses emotion, much like techniques seen in early Fauvism.
Above: Ammo spent 2008 Acrylic with oil glaze on canvas 94 cm x 160 cm From the current Pistols & Pavlova exhibition. Top: Nannified Cow head 2009 Needlepoint doileys, resin on tray 30 cm x 24 cm x 15 cm Right: Goin’ on a pig hunt 2009 160 cm x 55 cm (dyptich) Far right: Pea Shooter Pete 2009 100 cm x 132 cm www.kristintennyson.com
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