1

Issue 39 Oct 2011

2

October 28 – November 27 2011BLANKSPACE, Manchester

www.blankmediacollective.org/thetitleartprize

3

cover artBy Nick Malyon

you are listening toJars by Beaky Sue

contentsget in touch 4welcome... 5spotlight - Manchester Time Piece 6blankverse - Peter Day 12 fiction - Miriam Foley 18this month’s mp3 - Beaky Sue 26spotlight - Endangered Creature Alphabet 28feature - Talk Neon 32blankpicks - Song By Toad 38Blank Media recommends 40this month in Blank Media Collective 42submission guidelines 44credits 46

4

blankpages copyright ©2006-2011 Blank Media Collective unless otherwise noted. Copyright of all artworks remains with artist.

communications:communications@blankmediacollective.org

exhibitions:exhibitions@blankmediacollective.org

blankmarket:market@blankmediacollective.org

learning:learning@blankmediacollective.org

get social:You can find us on social networking websites such as; Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, Art Review & many more.

our websites:www.blankmediacollective.orgwww.myspace.com/blankmediacollectivewww.blankspacemcr.org

submission guidelines:www.blankmediacollective.org/blankpages

email:editor@blankmediacollective.org

general enquiries:info@blankmediacollective.org

development:development@blankmediacollective.org

5

welcomeWelcome to our 39th edition of blankpages Magazine. It’s October! My gosh, how did that sneak up on us? Halloween is around the corner, but we’ve only treats in store, don’t worry [insert evil laughter].

What a month September was! The exhibitions team went a little feral, burrowed away in their ever growing den of submissions for The Title Art Prize, emerging into the outside world only for tea and/or biscuits. Finally, the short-listing is complete! Beards have been trimmed, eyes have been yet again accustomed to daylight, and homes returned to... The lucky artists selected will be on show from 27 October, with the winners announced 12 November at our very own BLANKSPACE (don’t miss it!)

Meanwhile, John and Mark were busy creating their own Frankenstein’s monster: 1st October sees the return of greenroom’s emergency in the form of emergency accommodation at BLANKSPACE and IABF, bringing with it a mad scientist’s delight of live art, durational performance, one-on-ones, performance lectures, playful interjection and verbal banter. If you missed it, you missed out.

Call us super-human, but on top of all that, we’ve also managed to pull together another otherworldly display of art, literature and music in blankpages. We’ve got some electrifying visuals from neon artists Nick Maylon and Karen Ay; exciting new illustrative work from Creature Mag; and music from part folk musician / part bird-woman, Beaky Sue. This month’s poetry showcases an exclusive excerpt from Peter Day’s new poetry and photography collection, Perambulist Somnambulist; whilst Miriam Foley charms our socks off with some beautifully written fiction. Hankies at the ready, it’s a sad one.

Next month is BMC’s 5th Birthday (in art years that’s 100 years old!) so make sure you join us for the celebrations.

Until then!

Abby Ledger – Lomas

Assistant Editor

6

spotlightManchester Time Piece

On Midsummer’s Day, 21st June 2011, Tern Collective transformed Manchester into a giant analemmatic sundial, with Beetham Tower functioning as the gnomon (shadow maker). Annie Harrison, Jude Macpherson and Jacqueline Wylie spent a memorable day, from dawn to dusk, following the shadow of Beetham Tower through sun, wind and rain. They marked the shadow’s hourly position – mapping the passage of time by leaving behind a photograph of Beetham Tower with the time, date and a short text.

blankpages caught up with Tern Collective to see how the project went and to find out their plans for the future.Interview by Michael Thorp.

Can you tell me where the idea for MCR Time Piece came from?

Annie Harrison: Jackie, Jude and I had been meeting together for a while, talking about our practice and showing our work to each other in a peer-support type way. We spent some time looking and talking about the themes of our work and came to realise that there were a lot of cross-overs. Some of these common themes were the city landscape, the way that places and the traces of the past change: an interest in the fragment, use of photography and new media to capture a lost moment.

This shared interest led us to find new ways of working together, and this exploration led to the Manchester Time Piece.

Jude Macpherson: A series of photos that Jacqueline had taken of the Beetham Tower became the focus of our discussions. I had been using Google Earth regularly in my art practice and it was when looking at the Beetham Tower on Google Earth that we spotted the shadow - the idea led on from there. As the idea developed different aspects became more or less important as we decided how we would make the idea a reality. So although we were all working on the same piece there were different elements that were of artistic interest to each of us: for me the idea links back to a previous artwork I made entitled 'Flower Scar', in which I laid a trail of slate shards to mark the OS map contour line of the summit of a hill. The similarity here is the 'marking' of an intangible feature of a location.

Social media had a huge part to play in MCR Time Piece with people following your movements on Twitter throughout the day. What were your thoughts on sharing your project instantly with the public?

Annie: It was very exciting and we all learnt a lot about the process. We had a blog, a facebook group and a Twitter account, the increased number of followers across all three platforms was hugely validating. We received such a lot of support and interest. On the day we had over 400 people following us on Twitter and we tweeted our locations throughout. Our followers gave us a lot of help, re-tweeting our messages, and sending us links to sites that were writing about us. Social media had a huge role in promoting the project.

7

8

We were planning to send out a press release about the project, but in fact, the story was picked up by a reporter via twitter, and that led to stories in print and web-based local and national press. It was not all plain sailing, we had to learn from our mistakes, but it was a great education in how creative projects can completely by-pass traditional 'art outlets' and still find an audience. We were delighted with the reception. But I also feel that there was something special about the idea which captured people's imagination and attention, so it's not just that the media makes it easy to spread the word about an idea, the idea also has to be interesting.

As you’ve mentioned, you got a lot of exposure throughout the media, how did that come about?

Jackie: On the day we were contacted by Manchester Evening News and they asked what the plot of the Beetham Tower’s shadow would be, as they wanted to put a map of the project on their website. We said we weren't going to tell them as we hadn’t even done it yet! In the end they produced an animation on their own website that showed the shadow of the tower as the hours rolled on throughout the day. The MEN also sent a journalist who met up with us near Museum of Science and Industry to take photos.

Later in the day we bumped into a man taking photos of Beetham Tower. We started talking and he asked us if we were Tern collective. It turned out he was from The Guardian's Northerner Blog and had been following

us on Twitter. We were also contacted by BBC Radio Manchester. We just didn't know that people would respond in that way!

Have you had any thoughts about repeating the project, perhaps using a different landmark?

Annie: We haven't decided what to do next. It is such a great idea, and we had such a great time doing it, maybe there is scope for another version.

Jude: If we did do another Time Piece it would be good to do it somewhere that has guaranteed sunshine - it did seem a bit ironic that we were doing it in Manchester with its reputation as a rainy city - I quite like the idea of Sydney!

9

Jackie: One of the things we might do is repeat the process again with Beetham Tower, but on the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year. Which would at least be very quick! Also, I was in London at the weekend and looking at the Shard building. That would be lovely to do!

As part of the project you’ve created a map that depicts the shadow of Beetham Tower at the various times throughout the day. Using this, would you be able to tell the time when you’re in Manchester?

Annie: The map is as correct as it can be, but only for the day of 21st June. As the sun's path changes and its arc is lower, the shadows lengthen and the points we marked on the 21st June will continue to be in shadow, but will not be at the end of the shadow. They will give an indication of the time.

Jude: The type of sundial we created is unusual - it is an Analemmatic Sundial - the gnomon (shadow-maker) is vertical and the 'hours' are points marked on an elipse. With this type of sundial the points remain accurate throughout the year by moving the gnomon. Conventianal sundials have a slanted gnomon that is parralel with the axis of the earth and the 'hours' are marked by lines.

10

What was the best bit of feedback you got for the project?

Jackie: One of the things that was really nice was that on Twitter we had a North Manchester primary school following us. During the day the children were given permission to go on the school computers and access our Twitter Feed and they followed us the whole day. Their teacher actually came and found us to tell us about what they’d been doing and the interest from the children. We've since been invited to come in and meet the pupils.

What are the plans for the future of MCR time piece?

Jackie: We were so concerned with finishing the map aspect of the project for MCR art crawl that we hadn’t thought about what we would do with all the further information we had collected. We recently discussed the MCR time piece as part of Burlington 2011 and we were interested in getting feedback on the project. We are now thinking of doing a ‘Book of Hours’ because we have so much content leftover from the day. The book will have images of the building, photographs from the individual locations and images from the top of Beetham Tower itself.

11

For further information about Tern Collective and the

Manchester Time Piece follow the links below:

manchestertimepiece.tumblr.com

MEN Shadow Animation

The Guardian Northerner Blog

12

blankversePeter Day

13

Peter Day's Perambulist Somnambulist is a series of images and poems created in the act of walking. Each journey follows pathways around the writer's home in Shewsbury which are ‘accidental’: paths created by ancestral cut-throughs of grass or those designed at municipal planner’s direction. They follow the impulsive directions taken by the walker and explore the imperative nostalgia that familiar routes possess.

Day constructs his poetry by documenting these walks through short notes and automatic photography. Whilst the poems are recorded initially without theme, the notes are later formed into writing which is discursive, digressive and contained. Both images and text are in his own words “elegies to being there”.

blankpages features here a short extract from this series of “snapshots” - a glimpse into modern suburbia.

14

Tuesday 2:30PMTwo Hundred Yards from the House

At the pavement’s endI cross the line of controltoward urban civilisation’s final trespass,where nature is re-drawn by a city planner’s squiggle by a line drawn by a memory, an etch-a-sketched playground refuge, built for adult refugeeshere natural anarchy ascends.No tourist information needed, just thoughtsNo maps unfolded, no records ofthe ordinariness of life.Scrub, park and no-man-lands trace a crease tosomewhere so enchanted that life hangs by the last puff of Dandelion Time,crematorium dust to these chimney sweeps brushesand strange wafted lullabies from the Creeping Thistle the ghouls of striking miners point vibrating white fingerstoward the slag of socialism and politics forge the twistingligatures of bindweed, strangle the child of minewhose feral choked whelps startle fox cub invaders.

I once saw love in his eyes, once and once onlytill the torment of little monsters riddled him run, and run through kiss chased tracks of timeto where the endless swing-joy pleasures ceasedbreathless and free atop plasticine bending rides, beforework eats adulthood,and its war was fettled and improvised beside mangled ironwork somersaults, the constant hammering-in of goals scored by midget pretenders:Best, Charlton and Law paused – a life led between jumpers.Waiting to be record transferred to steel or coal, stillboinged by the joyous swirl of being from ‘around here’ and a round-a-bout lifethat nano second by nano second fills them and fleshes outbeyond the chatter of swapsies, and life crashes down on the hush-a-by hush and breaksthe just-like-his-father gone foreverand a single mum screaming soundsthe last note on this fools requiem.

15

It’s death, and silencethat outlasts this.

The past laid out and bourne tothe ghost waggle of a foraging bee thathives through the air, life is briefwelts of colour bloom dissidencebreathe fear and the war for spacefear us say the conquering forcesfrom between homesick trees, non indigenous settlers bythe gangs of Meadowsweet’s themselves kettled by the swings itsnettleland, stung into enforced repatriationit is here where the Rubus are un-muzzledand the dark brambled voices of the dead begin, fermented baritone solosthe depth of berrywhere their bloom and boom mixes withthe voices of a complaining couplewho argue togetherness into extinctionand summer teases the skinof a bathing girl, cushioned bythe flattened grass her memories (ref)raina last pillow perhaps from wherethe dreams of never returning beginand journey beyond the boundaries of homenever attained, whilstdogs bark at their violent ecological reinsat things and shadows decomposingchase-the-branch chase-the-branchtoward ducks laughing at the butt-joke of it all

16

Our Ghost Walks

Tours of the most hauntedtall tombs of sedges and grasses, posein pictorial majesty, beyond the sentinel Elders,tall orders that lead down to where the snow drops nuzzle the groundwith sweet promises of nothingand a brief tourist trap is setsnapped bamboozled beauties – caught saying cheese. Ghost witnesses find solace inthis wasteland meadow belowsay ‘I feel like I know you. Like I’ve known you forever’déjà vus take a while, a picture or twofor the rambler’s latent memory to kick in.Scattered postcard albums, picturesque litterings ‘wishing you were heres’missing you the sweet scents of beingthe sweet nothing.A sniff of spring, forgottenstoned paving, insulation that does not giveits good memoriesthe then to the just now

it’s the past; let it go it’s gone to the still-living.A snapshot fakes, its younger doppelgangersnot quite who we are now nor who we were thenand when, just then is goneto the just nowthe dead are here, posthumously captured in these momentsby a discarded shoe, a picnic’s sprawlthe charcoaled offerings by the wreck of a barbecuewith no credit left on a life spent.One lens opening does not fill the library with meaning.No truth in this opticoverdue and repentant, life becomes serious, suddenlyin its rush to endtime is short of timeor time to reflect.Wisdom is the ascent of nothing.What you notice is your absence from the framereflected in the mirrors seamless unendingI was here and I am remembering.

17

03 May 2011-05-03 Notes From an Unfinished Poem

QuietSolitudePaceChildhood – children at schoolThinking about my loveAge, in its time is timelessYouth is best? Now is best.Warm, driest and warmest April on record continues into MayCold in the shadeBright, overpowering light in the sunLow lying straight towards eyelineTraffic – delivery van, people taking kids to school, dog walkers twoTwo people far distance, didn’t catch up going to work across the parkWoman with bag

18

fiction The Summer O’Toole had Pups

My brother is Tricky. He's three and a half years younger than me. Born on the cusp of the sixties, my mother said. He's called Tricky because my mother had an awful lot of problems with him as a baby; that and it rhymes with my name. The two of them nearly went up to the angels, I heard them say. But they didn't. And I'm glad because it meant I got to have a buddy. Life before Tricky was boring, you see. Playing on your own, entertaining yourself. It was no fun at all. So they got me O'Toole when she was a pup and she was my best friend. And then Tricky came along as a surprise and it was great. We were the two little soldiers, comrades, musketeers. And being the older one, with my age now well into double digits, it was up to me to teach him everything. I was his Big Brother.

He could be a little pain in the arse at times, always crying whenever I did anything to him. When I threw something at him to catch, instead of catching it he'd just stand there, gawking at me, arms limp by his sides, and the ball would hit him right in the face.

By Miriam FoleyIllustrations by Michael Thorp

19

'Tricky, you have to catch it. Like this.' I'd take the time to go over to where he was standing, in the middle of the naked trees that clustered around the back of our house. He'd be standing in the pile of crunchy leaves and I'd go over to him and I'd lift his arms up and stretch them out so they were ready for the big, round ball. Then I'd open up his little fists so his palms were flat. 'You'll never catch anything with your hands like that, Tricky. You have to open your hands up, so they grab the ball when I throw it at you. Like this, okay?'

'Okay, Micky.' And he'd stand poised, arms stretched out, hands held open.

And I'd go back to where I was, and I'd get ready to throw the ball. 'Ready?'

'Ready.' I'd throw it and I'd shout, 'Catch it, catch it!' And I'd be jumping up and down with excitement. And he'd stand there with his arms stretched, open hands and mouth, and the ball would go, bang! And smack him in the face. A fair few times I gave him a black eye, so dark it was almost the colour of his hair. And once I made his nose bleed. I didn't mean to. We would always take hurt animals in and look after them. But that was before last summer, when O'Toole had pups. We'd make them a little home, give them milk. We found a bird once that couldn't fly, hopping along the

ground. We made it a nest at the bottom of a tree and we fed it milk and water and breadcrumbs for days. We named it Wilhelmina, Willy for short. When she died, we held a ceremony and I made up a little sermon. I cleared my throat. 'In the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy spirit, amen.' I led the service with a husky voice, blessing myself the way Father Grady did. Father Grady was the parish priest and people came from all over the West of Ireland to see him say mass on Sundays.

‘Amen,' Tricky stood straight, head down like he was praying.

'Good morning, everybody.' I looked up at Tricky, down at O'Toole.

'Good morning, Father.''How are we today?''Well, Father.'

‘Very good. I have a little story,’ I began, but I didn’t have a story at all. ‘I got up this morning and, well, I didn’t know that our little friend Wilhelmina was going to leave us, but sadly, she has. Let’s say the Our Father and put this little animal to rest, shall we?’

‘Yes, Father.’‘Great.’‘Great.’

20

O'Toole was my second best friend, after Tricky. And that was only because she couldn't talk. She never left my side, even at night. Not like other dogs that went wandering through the fields and wouldn't go back home for days. She was half sheep dog; fluffy with black and white patches. After that whole episode of O'Toole having her pups, Tricky and me weren't ourselves at all. My father said the house had never been so quiet. He said to take our minds off it we should build a teepee. We didn't know what a tipi was. He said it was a house used by native people that lived with nature. Well, we were like that, too. Yes, indeed, our father said. So we built a tipi. It was a small clearing in the trees; a plastic sheet that hung diagonally from the branch down to the ground and was held in place by a pile of rubble. We'd work on it all the time, and managed to beg two chairs off our mother so we could sit in the dry triangle when I was tired and watch the rain fall off the leaves and splash on the ground, turning it to mud. We lived from nature and animals just like they did. It was a part of our lives; living in the country. He told us we could make catapults, that we should start going after things like birds and frogs. He came to the den to show us how to make them. He sat on one of the chairs with Tricky on his lap and he showed us some bits of branches that we'd have to whittle into the letter Y. It took time and concentration, our father said. We worked day after day on them. If you got carried away, the wood would snap and you'd have to start all over again. Now, that was bad. We set off each day and headed for the den, spending all day out

in the trees until our bellies made noises so loud that we went home again. If it rained we'd run to the den and hide out there, planning the next project. We kept a small tool kit with some things our father had given us; a hammer, screws, thread, and a couple of other things that we borrowed, without him knowing.

'This is going to be brilliant,' I said to Tricky, looking at the wood and seeing the letter Y in its form.

'Yeah, it is,' he said back. Now we brought our catapults with us wherever we went. We ran after each other, around the trees and deep into the forest where we'd go looking for living things. We had all this green, all these trees just for us. We belonged there as much as the animals; we were a part of it. We knew it like the back of our hands. Our father had even taught us how to recognise the little conversations between the birds. We could hear them tweet away, but we weren’t too good with our new tool. We didn’t know how to aim, and you had to be quick. By gum did you have to be quick. By the time you put your catapult in the air and pulled back the elastic with the stone, your target would already be gone, out of sight. It drove us mad but we kept going for days until we got the hang of it. Then, I started getting the odd hit; it took Tricky a bit longer. Now, there were strict rules to this game. You could only have three goes at hitting your target, and if you hadn’t stopped it by then, you had to let it go. We let loads of wounded animals go. When we said this to our father, he told us off. He said we were being cruel by letting the poor, lame things get away, wobbling

21

22

with a broken leg, or a wing falling at its side. So after that we kept going until we got them. After three misses, the other one got to have their turn, and so on and so forth. We’d work as a team.

'Number Two, target at twelve o'clock,' I'd say to Tricky.

'Got that. Can't see it. Where?''Twelve o'clock. I repeat, twelve o'clock.''Got that. Where is twelve o'clock?' Tricky would look

all around.'There!' I'd point. 'In the name of god, man, there!'

That was at the beginning when Tricky hadn't fully learned the clock. So I trained him, and then we really started to get going.

'Go, go, go. Roger, kill. Is he down, Number Two?''Yes, Number One. Target down. I repeat, target

down.'When we got an animal, we'd discuss what to do with it. The options were: bring it home to our mother to cook, or: carry out a postmortem.

'Number Two, this little animal here died from one stone in the belly and another one in the back. Looks like a clean death.' Then we'd bury them. That was the way it was, the country. Our father taught us that. He said you had to live with it and kill from it and eat from it. That was just the way. He made me understand the ways of the farm; that me and Tricky couldn't keep looking after animals; that it was natural for them to die.

It was last summer when O'Toole got pregnant. My father was angry. It must have been Jimmy's dirty looking, flea ridden mutt from down the road, that his brother had brought over from overseas. I got scared he was going to do something, but he did nothing. O'Toole got big and lazy. Instead of running around with me and Tricky, she'd lie down in the shade of the tree and we'd always find her in the same spot. One day, we were sitting outside on the grass and she started squealing. High pitched, awful squeals that frightened the life out of me. Tricky looked scared. I was scared, too. 'Mammy, mammy. Come out quick!' I shouted. My mother came running out. 'What, in the name of god, is wrong with you? You gave me a fright.'

'Look at O'Toole. I think she's having her babies.'Now O'Toole was writhing around, her body in the strangest shape I'd ever seen. Her head was facing one direction, and her large, round belly was facing the other. Her back legs were splayed open and she was kicking out wildly. My mother turned and saw her and got a shock herself. She looked back at me.

'Well don't just stand there looking at her. Get a basin of hot water. No, don't get a basin. Go and get your father.'I looked at her.

'Go! Today, Micky, today!'I got up from the ground and rubbed the dirt off my hands. As I started out towards the fields I saw that my mother was kneeling beside O'Toole, rubbing her head.

23

'Tricky, you go and get a basin of hot water,' she said to him. I stopped dead. Our house was surrounded by land and I was walking with no idea of where to. I turned around. 'Where's father?'

'Out behind the hay shed,' then she muttered under her breath, 'Lord give me strength.' Off I went towards the shed, running fast, sweating. My father came straight away, putting down his tools and wiping his hands on his overall so it was streaked with the black from his hands. The curls of his hair stuck to his head with dirt and wet. We walked quickly to the house in silence. When we got to the front yard, he walked up to the dog and did what he knew. It was really something. O'Toole seemed to know he knew and turned to him, whimpering gently. Thirteen pups were born; two died after only a minute of being in the world. They all came out quickly, one after another, so that by the end there was a pile of small, wet, pulsating bodies. I was speechless. They had their eyes closed and were nudging their noses into each other.

'Look,' my mother said, 'they're looking for the teat.''What's the teat?' Tricky asked. 'It's the dog's teat, where the pups feed.' She gestured

to her own breast.

When it was over, my father asked my mother to get something from inside, but he said it in Gaelic so I didn't catch what it was. My mother went in and came out with a big kind of a sack and handed it to him. I wondered if he was going to lay the pups on it, because now they were on nothing but the ground. I thought the material would be coarse for the newly born little blighters. My father picked up one of the dead puppies on the edge of the pile, and put it into the sack, putting his arm all the way in so the pup was at the bottom. He took his arm out and did the same with the second, dead one. Then he took his arm out and picked up a third, live, pup, and put it into the sack as well. He returned his hand to the pile and picked up a fourth. O’Toole started whining, clambering towards my father but she couldn’t get up. She was trying to bark but the sounds that came out were muffled whimpers.

‘Dad, what are you doing?’‘I’m going to drown the pups, Micky.’‘What?’ I couldn’t believe my own ears.‘We can’t have all these pups, Micky. We have to get

rid of them.’My eyes were stinging. ‘But daddy, you can’t.’ My voice

broke, tailing off towards the end. Tricky started crying next to me.

24

'We have to, Micky. Now go over to O'Toole's head and turn it around, and hold her snout or she'll bite you.'

'Don't do it, Micky,' Tricky said through his tears.My father looked at Tricky, angry. 'Thomas, get into

the house now. Michael, do as I told you.' Tears threatened as I did what he said. I knew my father, and he meant his words. There was no arguing with him. I went over to her head and tried to put my hand around her snout, and it was then when O'Toole bit me. The pain shot through me with a sharp jab. I pulled my hand back with a jerk and saw two puncture holes that were already throbbing, drops of blood trickling onto the ground. I nearly gave her a slap on the nose because I was so angry, but I didn't. She was defending her puppies was all.

'Are you alright?' asked my father. 'Yeah I'm fine.'

I held my sore hand tight to my chest and with the other I held her snout together. I turned her head away from the pile of pups, being forceful now. She was clambering violently but without energy, as I watched my father put the pups into the sack, one by one. My mother stood in the doorway of the house, looking on from a distance. I think I saw water in her eyes, but it might have been the wind.

'Let's keep one of them,' she called to my father, 'they keep the rats away.'

So, my father left one, small, sleek looking pup in the empty space of wet bloodiness. He stood up and walked away with the sack, bulging, vibrating with life. 'Don't let her go until I'm out of sight, Micky,' he said without turning. As I watched him walk away I had to pinch my eyes together because the sun was high.

After that I didn't feel myself at all. I was tired and hot and I couldn't keep anything down. Everything was fuzzy looking so I stayed in bed all the time. I was allowed to stay in the house when school started up again, and Tricky had to go on his own. It was like O'Toole was guilty for biting me because she stayed away from the house and I barely saw her, or her pup. I missed her and I was lonely. Then I was sitting in the kitchen with mother when father came home after going into town, all wound up and red in the face. He told my mother he'd seen Jimmy from down the road; that Jimmy had told him he had shot his dog that morning. He said the dog was frothing and bleeding at the mouth and acting mad. My father got the shot gun and went outside. Me and mother

25

A graduate of English Literature, Miriam is currently taking a year

out to work on her first novel. Having spent much of her child-

hood in Ireland, she discovered that the same stories are told in

different ways, in different places. Since then she has been fasci-

nated with the art of story telling. She has lived in Ireland, Mexico,

the south of Spain and now lives between Barcelona and London.

looked at each other. I wanted to run after him and tell him to stop, but I couldn't get up. We heard him whistle, then there was a loud shot from his gun, then another. My father carried me straight out to the car and we drove fast down the road, the car bumping high over the potholes. Tears flowed down my face for O'Toole while I imagined her lying out the back, next to her small, fluffy pup.

I was in a room on my own for a long while. I had a mask on and air was being pumped into me and tubes were coming out of me. Highly contagious, they said. They brought in Father Grady, who stood on the other side of a pane of glass, praying the way he did at mass. He was with my mother, who was always there, in the same dress with flowers on and the same blue cardigan. I heard them talk about me and the angels, even though they thought I couldn't hear. But I didn't go up the angels; I was allowed home, where I had to rest. I would stay in the kitchen and keep my mother company while Tricky was at school. When I was feeling better, our father said to us, why don't ye build a teepee?

26

this month’s mp3Beaky Sue - Jars What / who is Beaky Sue?

A small, shrew type bird that can fit into a matchbox or an inside pocket of a blazer.

What does Beaky Sue do on a Saturday morning?

Eat seed, think about animals playing instruments and dancing in clothes, then sail to work…

Gnu & The Shrew was your previous project, and very good it was too, what happened to it?

The Gnu galloped off in search of pastures new, but the shrew scurried into a hole and out popped Beaky Sue!

If you could be a song what would it be and why?

Oooo, hard one, but right this second it would be “This is my Life”, by Shirley Bassey; I love the drama and it’s such an amazing rush of a song and she really is a proper performer, with passion and courage which I think is more important than wearing a silly hat.

What are your main influences?

Jan Svankmajer, The Black Tower, David Lynch, Kurt Weil, Choose Your Own Adventure books, Sparks, Frank Zappa, Pulp, Paul Auster, Werner Herzog, Morrissey, Jacques

A few years ago a shockwave rippled through Manchester’s music scene after news that Gnu & The Shrew were no more. One of the most quirky and lovable duos had joined up with the cosmos and stardust in that great big music hall in the sky. Beaky Sue hatched from those scattered embers and she’s just about to spread her wings with a new album and a plethoira of gigs. In her own words:

“Beaky Sue writes sea faring animal adventure stories, conjuring up images of sparrows in coats and little shrew boats. Hailing from the North of England on a westerly wind she seeks to ignite a small fire in the hearts of the wintery few. So lay down your luggage and give up the fight, she will sing for her supper way into the night.”

27

Brel, Klaus Kinski (Actor), The Tiger Lillies, Funland, Taxidermy, Tom Waits, Einstürzende Neubauten, David Attenborough, Home videos, La Cabina, Small animals, Fellini, being nostalgic about the things I’ve lost, amongst other things..

There's quite a few varied influences in there and in such a list a personality can almost be 'on display'...I'd say you have quite an eclectic one, possibly eccentric (in a good way of course). What do you see? Is there anything that links all these together? A kind of theme, maybe?

I think the songs I write are like stories, I think of the songs as pictures in my head or things I've seen. I think I'm inspired a lot by things from my childhood that stay with me, my dad always made tapes of things he thought would be interesting for us, and I know these things have stayed with me today. I think I write about my experiences or things that remind me of being young. I grew up by the sea and going to the fairground so I love the surreal elements of carousel noises and slot machines, but I also love things that are theatrical, over the top and operatic. I think I try and bring drama into my music and create characters to tell a story or put a message across. I think the themes in a lot of my recent music have quite a bittersweet edge, about love how great things can be, but also about loss, the reality when one crashes and nostalgia. I like writing on different levels about things because the meaning becomes more layered and also less obvious and immediately interpreted. But also writing

with different worlds in mind means anything is possible, you can sail somewhere birds dance and ducks can wear pantaloons; anything goes really, and that's a place I like to be!

What has Beaky Sue been doing this year and what flight paths will she be taking?

I’ve been working on new material for my album! But it’s all under shrew wraps for now so hush hush! I’ll hopefully have it done before the year’s out. I’ve also been collaborating with some really great musicians sampling glass smashing, seasides and fairground fun so watch this space! I’ve been spreading my beaky wings and playing any unusual spaces that will house me, I like trying to fit my feathers into foreign spots; tucked away in the woods at LaD.I.Y.fest Berlin was great and I hope to go back to Europe soon. I’ve been branching out working on some Hip Hop and Jungle inspired tracks with my musical friends, but my biggest passion right now is collecting ideas for a Beaky Sue carnival show! That will combine my animal stories and seaside chants with visuals, and multi disciplinary performances and coincide with the album release! That and saving shrews from the mouth of my cat, but I’ve got my work cut out for me there.

Interview by Baz Wilkinson

www.myspace.com/beakysue www.facebook.com/beakysue www.twitter.com/beakysue

28

spotlight

Endangered Creature Alphabet

Who are you?

Creaturemag is an online arts blog dedicated to displaying the work of talented upcoming and established artists.

What do you do?

We initiate collaborations, publish exciting new illustrative work and look to engage and promote artistsvia exciting collaborative projects.

What is the Creature Alphabet?

The Creature Alphabet is a collaborative project initiated via twitter. In this book, we celebrate just 26 of the many thousands of the species under threat with 26 illustrations, one for each letter of the alphabet, by 26 different artists. Each illustration is the artist’s own personal response to the creature – sometimes funny, sometimes decorative, sometimes quirky, sometimes beautiful, but always unique. It is a reminder that there are things in this world worth cherishing...

29

“It is a reminder that

there are things in this world worth

cherishing”

30

What inspired the project?

The inspiration for the Endangered Creature Alphabet came from a general interest in Creatures, a concern about the future of the non-human animal kingdom and frustration at the human impact on natural habitat.

What is the aim of the project?

We are always devising new ways to connect and promote artists via interesting collaborative projects. We like to make use of the Creaturemag social network to create things that are worthwhile. We love bringing together large numbers of artists to collaborate and if we can highlight a good cause at the same time then even better.

We wanted to bring together a group of artists to create something that would highlight the plight of endangered species and hopefully enlighten and educate some minds. The alphabet seemed like a good means to meet this end.

We wanted to educate ourselves and others. We have learned a lot about endangered species and conservation while organising this project. A lot of creatures we didn't know about, organisations we had never heard of and animals that we did not expect to be endangered. I don't expect people to go out and start saving the planet after reading this book but if it can filter through some of this information to other people, educate and broaden some minds, then I think that is some kind of worthwhile achievement.

What’s the plan for the project?

We are happy to see where it takes us. Ideally we would like as many people to get their hands on it as possible and we will be contacting magazines, blogs and wildlife organisations with the aim of gaining as much exposure as possible for both the artists involved and for the cause.

What are people saying?

“It's a lovely idea, and I really like your bringing together of talented artists. I think there's tremendous potential for gathering illustrator’s work together like this.”John Farndon

“It looks amazing! What I saw was a crazy, eclectic mix of illustration, held together with with a light, complimentary design style. The whole thing works brilliantly together, write up's and intro included.”David Blatch

For further information about Creature Mag and their project, Endangered Creature Alphabet, please use the following links:

Endangered Creature Alphabet previewCreatureMag

31

“We wanted to educate ourselves and others”

32

featureTalk Neon

By Sarah Handyside

At the Paris Motor Show in 1910, Georges Claude, a French engineer and inventor, presented the world with a brand new invention – glass tubes filled with rarefied neon, through which electric currents were passed to produce light. The world took notice.

Before long, neon lighting was the beloved of advertisers the world over, and nowhere more strikingly than in New York City’s Times Square. Today, the US boasts the worlds’ premier neon art museums, including the Museum of Neon Art in Los Angeles, the Neon Museum in Las Vegas and the Neon Museum of Philadelphia, which showcase neon signage and sculpture from the past 100 years.

This year Tracey Emin produced a major survey exhibition, ‘Love Is What You Want’, with the title piece a slogan filled heart, glowing pink and blue.

Neon made the leap from adverts to art many years ago, but it’s still something of a niche creative medium: expensive to purchase, difficult to find technicians to work with and, perversely, tricky to photograph in order accurately and atmospherically share with a wider

audience. But it exerts an unusual power, its links with the worlds of mad men and club kids imbibing artworks with a suggestive gleam. blankpages decided to find out more.

Nick Malyon first felt neon’s allure on a trip to Marrakech in the late 1980s, returning to Britain become a fully-fledged technician. In 1993 he established Neon Neon, an independent studio that continues to specialise in the design, manufacture and installation of neon and cold cathode lighting. It is his job to turn the visions of artists who do not possess his technical capability into a reality. It can be a long process.

‘My job is to help artists make something that is physically possible’ he explains, describing the initial painstaking collaboration to turn artists’ visions into viable structural designs, and then full-sized pencil sketches of the desired shape. These are turned backwards and used as the templates for the intricate process of glass bending. Five-foot lengths of glass piping are painstakingly beaten by hand, inch by inch, over a Bunsen burner – this can take days, especially when the finished sculpture is to be three-dimensional rather than a flat piece. Finally, electrodes are welded on, the air is vacuumed out, and neon or argon injected.

33

Nic

k M

alyo

n

34N

ick

Mal

yon

35

The switch-on moment, of course, makes it all worthwhile.

‘It’s an incredibly vibrant media – you can’t replicate it with anything else.’ Nick’s passion for the unusual material is clear on the Neon Neon blog (the-original-neonneon.blogspot.com), which also gives a vivid illustration of neon’s sometimes unexpected versatility. The pieces he has helped to realise range from text pieces that merge visuals with prose and poetry, to experiments with movement and reflection. One unusual effect was created using the parabolic reflector from a 1960s Sofono electric fire with the original heating element replaced by a neon spiral. The blog also functions as an online portfolio for the various artists Nick has worked with and for. He collaborates with numerous curators and museums as well as artists, with a focus on community and teamwork that is especially important in the neon art world. Talented technicians can be hard to find.

As such, artist Karen Ay was delighted to discover Nick when she sought to make her first foray into neon art. Interested in identity, belonging and senses of place, she had always enjoyed experimenting with light as well as text in her work. An earlier installation, ‘Business as usual in the age of austerity’, featured a mini metropolis in MDF, each building wrapped in pages from the FT stock market section, and the entire piece illuminated from below.

When conceiving an installation for the Big Deal 3 show at The Collective in Camden, a show focusing on reactions to consumption, she recalls being captivated by the lights

of Canary Wharf from her flat. Dwelling on her ‘love-hate relationship with the whole city thing’, the coalition government’s ‘we’re all in this together’ recession slogan had struck a chord. Karen caught on both city lights and the slogan as a means of communicating conspicuous consumption.

‘We all got sucked into that tagline...I wanted to take the slogan and subvert it. It needed to be over-the-top.’ With Nick’s craftsmanship, the result was both striking and strange – an eerie twist on political rhetoric in ‘brilliant blue and apple green’.

Perhaps unsurprisingly then, when Karen began thinking about her contribution to the Sexy 100 show this year, ‘it had to be text and it had to be neon.’ She debated a piece in her own handwriting, dismissed it as too untidy and then hunted out an American graphic designer who had created her own font, a ‘really pretty cursive text’. Opting for pink rather than a red that she decided would have been ‘prostitute-y or tawdry’, her installation scrawls ‘yes yes oh yes’ along a wall. At once tongue in cheek and thoughtful, provocative and playful, the piece underlines a multiplicity, an ability to simultaneously inhabit contradictory associations, which is perhaps what ultimately makes neon special. Karen’s dreamy lyricism as she is asked ‘why neon?’ speaks for itself: ‘It’s eye-catching. It’s really seductive. It’s mesmerising.’ Neon lifts art into a sharper place than other materials and even other lights; it is knowingly urban and even garish yet at the same time hypnotically enchanting.

36

Neon’s first uses were as a wink to the customer, a come-hither to the clubber. Its magic as an artistic medium lies in its innate ability to echo those worlds – to entice, enchant and yet remind us of the consumerist qualities we like to think are abandoned at the gallery door. It might be difficult, but for those who have been seduced it truly is a light fantastic.

Artist - Karen Ay, Piece - 'We're all in this together', Photography - Paul Tucker (www.paultucker.co.uk)

www.karenay.comhttp://the-original-neonneon.blogspot.com/2010/09/neon-art-and-sculpture-by-neon-artist.html@talkneonneon

37 P

aul T

ucke

r (w

ww

.pau

ltuc

ker.c

o.uk

)

38

I started Song by Toad back in about 2004, ostensibly as a way of telling my brother, who lives in Boston, about the kind of music I was listening to, and doing it a little more regularly than the mixtapes I used to send him a couple of times a year. It quickly became apparent that he never bothered to read anything I wrote, but I was really starting to enjoy the part editorial, part diary nature of blog writing.

I didn’t actually know I was writing a blog back then, though, as I put everything on my static site, but in 2006 I discovered the Hype Machine, realised I had been writing a blog all this time, and transferred everything to a blog site.

Things really took off from there, as the Hype Machine itself and my sudden awareness of the wider blogosphere started to drive an awful lot more traffic. Local bands began to find me as well, and I was gradually sucked into the world of Edinburgh’s DIY music scene. By 2007 I was doing a weekly podcast, and in 2008 I started to record video sessions, putting on gigs, and eventually went all the way and set up my own label.

I am told I can be controversial, but it’s not deliberate. True I swear my way drunkenly through absolutely everything, but I have no desire to provoke people just for the sake of it. I do try and write honestly about the experiences of trying to navigate the music world when you’re new to almost anything, and in doing so hope to encourage more people to just give it a shot. Hell, if I can do it, bloody anyone can.songbytoad.com

blankpicksSong By Toad

39

I have to confess I went off reading blogs for a bit, because we all get the same PR email, and it is only in the last six months or so that I have started to explore a bit more and find blogs who I feel are genuinely writing about something a bit different. I’ve also started listening to a few podcasts, as they’re perfect for when I am doing the tedious job of filling promo envelopes for the label, and Cloud Sounds is my favourite. Ted might sound like he can’t be arsed with pretty much anything at all, but he is consistently funny, and I really enjoy his taste in music.cloudsounds.co.uk

40

A BRUSH WITH LIfeZion Arts Centre, ManchesterPreviews October 28, 6-8pmZion Arts Centre is pleased to welcome Dave Coulter back after his first exhibition earlier this year was a roaring success. Dave has spent the last year working on new material; his paintings focus on life in and around Manchester and show a new direction.zionarts.com

InSTITUTIon foR THe fUTUReChinese Arts Centre, ManchesterOctober 1 - November 26Institution for the Future will showcase artists from various Asian countries who have actively engaged with their local arts scenes and who attempt to contribute in the development of an arts infrastructure in their regions.chinese-arts-centre.org

MoSS SIde SToRIeSContact Theatre, ManchesterRuns until February 1A series of twelve large-scale portraits and archive images reflecting conversations and time frozen moments of the Moss Side riots thirty years on.contactmcr.com

THe fIRST CUT: CeLeBRATInG 250 yeARS of THe BRIdGeWATeR CAnALSalford Museum and Art Gallery, SalfordOctober 8 - January 222011 marks the 250th anniversary of the Bridgewater Canal in Salford. A Heritage Lottery Funded project entitled ‘The First Cut’ celebrates this important date through workshops and events along the canal corridor which will be brought together for this exhibition. salford.gov.uk/salfordmuseum

MAnCHeSTeR LITeRATURe feSTIvALVarious locations, ManchesterPreviews October 28, 6-8pmTake a world tour of the imagination with inspirational authors as your guides to such far flung places as the Amazon jungle, the holy city of Mecca, 16th-century Italy, the land of the Viking gods and bohemian Manchester itself.manchesterliteraturefestival.co.uk

MedIA dRoPContact Theatre, ManchesterOctober 5 - November 21Wednesdays and Thursdays. 6-9pmMedia Drop is a place where young artists can come to share and develop digital media. Based in our Media Lounge we work with MCs, Producers, Vocalists, Poets, DJs and other young people who are interested in digital media, film making, blogging, social media and live streaming.contactmcr.com

ForthcomingEvents

41

SoMeTHInG To SHoUT ABoUT?

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)

CoMedy PLAyGRoUndContact Theatre, ManchesterOctober 3Comedy Playground is a new comedy showcase featuring Manchester’s most exciting young comedic talent. It’s an action-packed evening, which provides a platform for all performance styles; from sketch comedy and straight stand up to songs and poetry, video/film, puppetry, story-telling, clowning, and whatever else comics can think of that’s funny.contactmcr.com

RoMeo And JULIeTContact Theatre, ManchesterOctober 18 & 20, 7.30pmOctober 19 & 20, 1.30pmWilliam Shakespeare’s most powerful story of tragic love is set here in a Verona unlike any ever seen; one filled with music, magic and passion.contactmcr.com

CRySTAL KISSeSContact Theatre, ManchesterOctober 6, 7, 13 & 15, 8pmYoung, vulnerable and in care Toyah tries to protect herself with her spitfire tongue, but her world is rapidly crumbling; Ally is “the golden girl” but behind the perfect façade lies a mess of lies, confusion, sex and loss; Jay meanwhile has runaway from home and finally finding the care he craves in the arms of a stranger – but what price will he have to pay?contactmcr.com

dIKe oMeJe SLAM PoeTRy AWARd 2011The Yard Theatre, 41 Old Birley Street, Hulme M15 5RFOctober 6th, from 7pmCommonword Presents: Superheroes of Slam, the Dike Omeje Slam Poetry Award 2011; is the quest to find the ultimate slam poet with spoken word superpowers. Open to all comers and styles of poetry and spoken word. This will be a slam like no other, full of glitz, glam-our and comic book kitsch.www.youngidentity.org

SURvIvoRS PoeTRy WRITInG GRoUPCommonward, 6 Mount St (access via Bootle St), Manchester M2 5NSEvery Monday from 2-4pmA laid back writing workshop.It’s officially for people who have experienced some sort of mental health issue but all that really means is that everyone is welcome as long as you are okay with people being open about their experiences.

42

this month in BLANKMEDIACOLLECTIVE...

eMeRGenCy ACCoMModATIon

BLANKSPACE & IABF, ManchesterOctober 1 12 - 9pm

In June 2011, greenroom, Manchester’s iconic theatre for all things new, contemporary and experimental closed its doors for the final time. Beyond the loss of one of the Manchester‘s ‘hidden treasures’, there is also the story of the creative community it nurtured over the course of its existence, as a ‘home’ for artists, giving opportunities to literally thousands of young people looking to take their first steps into an often precarious career.

For 13 years, a key way into greenroom was the annual emergency free micro-festival, showing upwards of 40 short experimental works in a crazy day and a half. Co-produced by hÅb, an independent production and development organisation, emergency has been responsible for kick-starting literally hundreds of careers and offering a free explosion of performance to thousands of audience members.

As the Autumn approaches and, with it, the first full ‘season’ without greenroom, emergency is now seeing a re-birth in the shape of emergency accommodation (Saturday 1st October). hÅb has

teamed up with Blank Media Collective, a group of mixed-media practitioners offering a range of artist-showing opportunities in a cooperatively run environment, and with the ever supportive International Anthony Burgess Foundation, to create a new kind of micro-festival in new kinds of spaces.

www.blankmediacollective.org/events/details/emergency_accommodation

43

In_TUITIon (fIne ART)BLANKSPACE, ManchesterOctober 4 6.30-8.30pm

In_TUITIon (CReATIve WRITInG)BLANKSPACE, ManchesterOctober 11 6.30-8.30pm

In_TUITIon (MovInG IMAGe)BLANKSPACE, ManchesterOctober 18 6.30-8.30pm

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 (PHoToGRAPHy)BLANKSPACE, ManchesterOctober 25 6.30-8.30pm

submissions callout

44

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.

45

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

46

Blank Media Collective Team:Director: Mark Devereux Co-Director: John Leyland Financial Administrator: Martin Dale Strategic Development Consultant: Chris Maloney Development Coordinators: Kate O’HaraCommunity Arts & Learning Coordinators: Chris LeylandWebsite Designers: Simon MillsExhibition Curators: Mark Devereux, Jamie Hyde, Kate Charlton, Peter Fallon, Beth Kwant, Sophie Barnes & Rose BarracloughDocumentary Filmmakers: Charalampos Politakis & Insa LanghorstOfficial Photographers: Gareth Hacking & Iain Goodyear

blankpages Team:Editor: John Leyland Assistant Editor: Abigail Ledger-Lomas Feature Editors: Sarah Handyside & Rebecca OwensMusic Editor: Baz Wilkinson Visual Editor / Designer: Michael ThorpDesign Intern: Simon Meredith