Monthly Archive for August, 2009

SBA writing contest has no entry fee; is this strange?


published in From the Editor
on August 31, 2009
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Exit, pursued by a bear

Some Blind Alleys got a mention in today’s Pursued By A Bear – the culture blog of the Irish Times. Fiona McCann (thanks for the mention) writes:

The deadline for entry is September 18th and, get this, THERE’S NO FEE. This may well be the first time I’ve ever heard of a writing competition that doesn’t require an entry fee, and it warms the cockles of one’s heart to hear it.

I don’t think any writer should ever have to pay an entry fee for a competition, but I started writing in the US, where lit journals were subsidised by universities, and where entry fees were an obvious sign of a scam. Also, in the US, you don’t need to enter competitions: there are plenty of decent lit journals that pay.

I think there are a million inherently bad things about writing contests, and almost all of them are removed by eliminating an entry fee. I have tried to remove the remaining concerns by making it absolutely clear that this contest is not about picking one winner and excluding hundreds of others – but publishing as much good stuff as I receive. The three finalists will have an excerpt of their work read by some good judges, which is nice. The winner will get a small amount of money and get to read in front of a room full of people who’ve been drinking free substandard wine for two hours.

But everything that gets published will get the benefit of SBA’s large and growing readership.

In case the Orson Welles reading of Kafka (the Plug) is a little too heavy for a Monday morning


published in From the Editor
on August 31, 2009
.

“They said the airline I was flying doesn’t exist. And everyone keeps calling me S.”


Prague’s Franz Kafka International Named World’s Most Alienating Airport

Franz Kafka (1883 – 1924), from “A Hunger Artist”


published in Plugs
on August 31, 2009
.

Franz KafkaAn overseer’s eye fell on the cage one day and he asked the attendants why this perfectly good cage should be left standing there unused with dirty straw inside it; nobody knew, until one man, helped out by the notice board, remembered about the hunger artist. They poked into the straw with sticks and found him in it. “Are you still fasting?” asked the overseer. – Franz Kafka

I am the winding and twisting and mist-spitting god of freedom

Nick Zelasko, Gabriela Ailenei, and Adrian Duncan
published in Visual Art
on August 30, 2009
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Artist’s note: I was approached by the editor of Some Blind Alleys with the idea of a collaboration: create a visual interpretation of a story by regular contributor Nick Zelasko that might accompany the text. Zelasko’s story is a serious piece of writing, but absurd. I made a few decisions on the basic aesthetic: to keep “the palette” small and compact, and to make the stroke making, in the illustrations, gestural and fleeting – I felt the story was rhythmic and, in ways, unhinged, and I didn’t want my drawings to stifle this. The original drawings are still together on one sheet of paper about 2m high and almost 3m long – it as a large, silent, standalone piece, and it makes no sense at all. Another decision we made, early on, was not to present the static written text alongside the images, mostly because that suits comic book art, and neither of us are comic book artists. – AD

Nick Zelasko (story), Gabriela Ailenei (voice) and Adrian Duncan (illustrations) live in Dublin

Moon (2009), directed by Duncan Jones


published in Column 2
on August 28, 2009
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I went to see Moon because everyone said it was the next 2001, or even better, and that I might be so overwhelmed with adoration after seeing it that I might say something like, “That is the best science fiction movie every made.”

It turns out that Moon is to science fiction as Wedding Crashers is to comedy – loveable, extremely watchable, and – ultimately (emphasis on ultimately) – a vapid, plot-driven, feel-good movie that plays to all the conventions of the genre.

Moon retreats from every single one of the fascinating questions it almost asks.

I went to see it at the Lighthouse Cinema – my first time there – and it was lovely except for all the wankers. I had a drink at the Dice Bar before the cinema, so I was officially the biggest wanker.

I think a summary of the film may ruin it for those who haven’t seen it, so read the following at your own risk: Sam Bell (Sam Rockwell) is alone on the moon with a computer (voice of Kevin Spacey). His job is to harvest Helium-3 from the dark side of the moon, which provides clean energy for the earth.

He’s got two weeks left in his three-year stint, and he is so homesick and distracted that, while out harvesting Helium-3, he crashes his giant lunar dunebuggy into one of the behemoth, rolling harvesters.

The next thing we know, he’s awake, except it’s not the Sam we just saw. It’s a clone (except we don’t know it yet). The clone, who is inexplicably drawn to wreckage of the old Sam, finds him and rescues him. And now we have a problem: there are two Sams.

Rockwell is one hell of an actor. Spacey, as Gerty the computer/robot, was ineffective, and of course ludicrously incomparable to Hal. The set was perfect – ragged and confined inside the base, limitless and vertiginous on the surface. One might accuse outer space of being inherently limitless and vertiginous, but Jones does a very good job – with models rather than special effects – of putting us there.

If I will agree that the first one hundred and ten minutes were generally good, beautiful, and very well-acted, will you consider that the last ten minutes represented fatuous and sentimental filmmaking of the highest order?

The Sams uncover a conspiracy. A rescue team is coming to kill one. Some hard decisions need to be made. None of this stuff is interesting, unless you preferred Aliens to Alien.

What is of interest is the slowly developing dilemma of one man being in two bodies, sharing implanted memories. And hanging out together. They get in a fight. They work together to solve the mystery of their identities.

It’s also clear that three years of solitude has softened the first Sam. He is wiser but not as smart.

The first Sam is deteriorating: it’s made clear that the clones – these Sams are not the first, and they won’t be the last – are genetically programmed to die after three years. The other Sam is in good health. And one starts to feel the despair and solitude of identity.

But have no fear – that’s as far as it goes. Moon becomes, in the last ten minutes – a high-intensity buddy flick. I almost expected one of them to refer to the other as amigo.

A comparison to 2001 is inescapable, and for some reason the filmmakers seem to have used this inescapability as an excuse for being light-hearted. 2001 is a movie that gets more and more complex with every scene, rather than, simply, more and more comprehensible. Too much time was spent on figuring out the Sams were clones, and not hallucinations – or there was not enough exploration of the dilemma once that was established. They found out, and immediately realize they’re probably fucked – a countdown to the arrival of the assassins is a really cheap vehicle for suspense. If you don’t believe me, start counting down from one hundred now, and see if you don’t start feeling some suspense at eleven. – James Bastille

Banner week for SBA


published in From the Editor
on August 28, 2009
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Traffic report

Some Blind Alleys has had a good week, and that doesn’t even include today. From Monday morning to Thursday night, SBA was visited by over 900 unique users, and handled over 6,000 page views. Cathy Sweeney’s most recent essay was viewed by 155 people (uniques), and the average length of time they spent on the page was six minutes. That’s pretty good.

Most of these people have been organic google (search) or direct hits (ie they typed in the url into their browser, or had it bookmarked). After that, Facebook referrals – as well as referrals from an ad I placed on creativecareers.ie about the writing competition – were responsible for large numbers.

I also owe some thanks to websites who linked, for one reason or another, to Some Blind Alleys.

So, thanks to:

Where I’m Blogging From
Women Rule Writer
Hell or High Water
Mulley (not that he needs the exposure)

Some Blind Alleys offers some pretty damn good creative writing courses: send the press release to some friends


published in From the Editor
on August 27, 2009
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The Workshops at Some Blind Alleys

Autumn creative writing course list announced at Some Blind Alleys

The new courses for autumn 2009 have been announced at the Creative Writing Workshops at Some Blind Alleys – the unique, entertaining, demanding and rewarding creative writing courses.

The Creative Writing Workshops at Some Blind Alleys (http://someblindalleys.com) are for people who are interested in discovering or rediscovering a love for great literature and embracing the influences of classic and contemporary masters.

Why are Some Blind Alleys creative writing courses unique?

Aspiring writers can expect detailed, line-by-line edits on everything they hand in. All longer work is discussed in a workshop. There are no lessons about technique or “how-to-write” exercises. People who take these courses can expect a serious critical response to the completed work they hand in.

Why are they so tough?

The Workshops at Some Blind Alleys teach judgment, not technique, and this requires a reading-intensive approach. Each week, participants will take home and read three to four short stories and essays by the greatest writers who ever lived. We discuss these in class before moving on to a discussion of writing by participants. (Work by participants is also always taken home to be read.)

Why are they so rewarding?

All participants will write new and complete essays and short stories by the end of each course. The Workshops at Some Blind Alleys cannot promise that participants will emerge from this class as great writers, but they will emerge as better writers, and, importantly, they’ll become great readers – they’ll learn to read as writers.

Why are they so entertaining?

SBA tutors teach what they love. They teach stories and essays that inspire them as writers. They treat encouragement and criticism of participants with equal rigor. Every minute of class is an enthusiastic and intense investigation into what we like about great writing by masters, and how their influence makes us better writers. Afterwards, the class usually takes a walk to the nearest pub for a drink and some less intense conversation.

Read more about the Workshops at Some Blind Alleys on the Some Blind Alleys website: http://someblindalleys.com/index.php/workshops/

All courses are directed by essayist and fiction writer Greg Baxter. Greg was a successful creative writing teacher at the Irish Writers’ Centre from 2006 to 2009.

This autumn, he decided to start his own creative writing workshops venture in association with the online journal of new Irish writing and visual art – Some Blind Alleys – which he edits.

Creative writing courses in the autumn 2009 list include:

• “Russian Short Stories: Howl, Suffer, Ignite, Lament, Celebrate, Tell the Truth”
(http://someblindalleys.com/index.php/workshops/russian-short-stories/)

• “Women Who Changed Literature” (taught by new SBA tutor Bernadette Smyth)
(http://someblindalleys.com/index.php/workshops/women-who-changed-literature/)

Creative Writing 1 and Creative Writing 2 are also on offer – ‘boot camp’ courses that bring talented and committed young writers in contact with the best stories and essays ever written. As always, socializing after class remains a big part of the course.

For more information, contact Greg at editor [ at ] someblindalleys [ dot ] com.

Two comics: Fable: a dog and his dreams; Cordeyceps fungi

Steve Maher
published in Comics
on August 27, 2009
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Two comics

Artist’s note: My work is concerned with the apparently mundane aspects of modern life, and my practice involves sculpture, illustration, writing and performance art. This work is from an ongoing series I started three years ago. I view my comic making as a part of my extended art practice; each comic is one page long. I do not obey any strict rules but I prefer the standard dimensions 17 x 26 cm.

Continue reading ‘Two comics: Fable: a dog and his dreams; Cordeyceps fungi’

The launch of a new international journal


published in From the Editor
on August 26, 2009
.

Georges Perec

I went to the launch of a new publication last night – called Kakafonie – a mixture of essays, stories, poetry – in various languages – and drawings.

The creator and co-editor of Kakafonie, John Holten, who is from Ireland but talks like a French person with perfect English, is the real deal.

He has long hair and a beard, wears a cheap suit jacket and an extremely cheap tie, and walks around wiping the hair out of his face and talking about Georges Perec and other literary obscurities (Perec is not obscure in France) with an urgency that puts you back in time: specifically Paris, 1898 (or 1968).

Holten’s interest in the obscure is refreshing and not, from what I could tell in the short time that I spoke to him, affected. I have a sense that he was born fifty or a hundred and fifty years too late, and, at least in Dublin, looking for an audience that does not exist – but that’s a cause for celebration, not criticism.

Holten said he wants to publish five issues of Kakafonie and move on to something new.

Kakafonie was also launched in Berlin and Oslo, and I got the sense, though nothing was said by Holten (and this is probably just me projecting), that Dublin is a cultureless shithole compared to Berlin and Oslo. Now that I think about it, I’d bet that Oslo is also a cultureless shithole.

I deeply enjoyed a conversation between Holten and Kakafonie contributor Karl Whitney about Whitney’s essay on Georges Perec, an obscure French writer who wrote an unorthodox autobiography by describing the same street again and again over a period of six years (originally he meant for the project to last twelve years, but perhaps he got bored).

This is a good essay, and if you download the pdf from the website, go straight to it. It’s the last piece.

During the conversation, Whitney looked extremely uncomfortable, as though he’d never spoken in front of a room before, and never wanted to again – and this made him credible and endearing, as compared to the man who read his piece of fiction, who overacted.

Man builds particle accelerator and calls it art; Washington Post calls him greatest genius ever


published in From the Editor
on August 25, 2009
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There is a moat around my house

Jim Sanborn (63), a paranoid artist living in Maryland, is about to become the most talked about artist in the world, according to an article in the Washington Post that is so effusively fawning that it makes you think the whole thing is a hoax.

Sanborn, in his back yard, built a fully operational particle accelerator, created nuclear fission, then called it Terrestrial Physics – i.e., a work of art.

The machine is a copy of the same particle accelerator built by Niels Bohr, Enrico Fermi, and other physicists at the Carnegie Institution’s Department of Terrestrial Magnetism – in 1939 these men split an atom, and gave birth to the era of big science.

(The are not things I know. I’m paraphrasing the article by Blake Gopnik, Post staff writer.)

It is common for people who are not artists to sometimes feel a bit bewildered by what other people call art. A friend recently tried to convince me that arguing over whether something is art is pointless. If someone sticks a toothpick in a rotten sandwich and calls it art (or builds a particle accelerator and calls it art), the smart thing to do is accept that it is art. Once you have accepted it as art, you then ask: is it relevant?

Continue reading ‘Man builds particle accelerator and calls it art; Washington Post calls him greatest genius ever’