tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6723587881676625382024-03-14T02:41:11.021-07:00THE ULTRAVIOLET RANGEWords from Lorne Johnson, Australian teacher and poet. Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.comBlogger329125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-70200802379518870242017-10-26T20:20:00.003-07:002017-10-27T06:02:43.032-07:00BLADE RUNNER 2049 <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I was ten years of age when I saw <i>Blade Runner</i>. I watched it a couple of times in a cinema in Sydney. It changed my life. <i>Star Wars, Raiders of the Lost Ark, ET</i>... the other big films of the period... they completely entertained me... but <i>Blade Runner </i>was something else entirely. In one of those Sydney screenings, during the graphic, intense scene where Batty crushed Tyrell's head, my mother tried to cover my eyes with her hand. The film had a profound effect on me... I howled like Roy Batty in the stairwell of my duplex in Cremorne, I reenacted Batty's famous death sequence in the bath and shower, during a Yr 6 presentation at Marist Mosman I tried to squint and grimace a bit like Deckard in the scene where he watches VK reels of replicants, I purchased the BR comic, the BR storybook, the BR design book (all from Galaxy Bookshop or Comic Kingdom), I read every feature article on BR I could find. I was disappointed toy spinners weren't available in toy stores. All I wanted for the Xmas of '82 was the BR soundtrack on vinyl (I got it!). The film's atmosphere drenched me. I desperately wanted to live in LA in November 2019. Most nights, I counted replicants to get to sleep... On and off over the last decade, I have been fortunate enough to teach BR to Yr 12 students. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">So, when I went to see <i>Blade Runner 2049</i> at the New Empire Cinema in Bowral two weeks ago - with a good mate who's a sound engineer in film - I was full of adrenaline and hope. I knew the flick was in safe hands with Denis Villeneuve (his last feature, <i>Arrival</i>, was a sublime thing). I liked Ryan Gosling. Robin Wright was fabulous in <i>House of Cards</i>. Hans Zimmer had done some fine scores in the past. Ridley Scott was watching over the whole thing. I was happy not to compare it with the original. The first twenty minutes of the motion picture mesmerised me, moved me deeply. There were goosebumps, almost tears. But after that, the film didn't do much for me. In fact, I had problems with it. There was no animalistic Roy Batty, Zimmer's score wasn't close to the divine score by Vangelis, Gosling seemed to be on autopilot (I wanted him to stretch his acting range, without singing!), the plot was convoluted, there was a completely unnecessary sex scene, Deckard didn't show his pain and longing enough (so I cared little about his history and reunion with his daughter), there weren't enough origami creations... I could go on. Sure, it looked brilliant, and it sounded fabulous, but those things weren't enough. As my mate said at the end of the screening, 'It was all up here (pointing to his head); there was nothing in here (pointing to his heart)'. I walked out of the cinema numb, confused, perplexed. Back in '82, that ten year old Lorne left the cinema feeling hugely powerful, completely ecstatic. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I saw things in <i>Blade Runner 2049</i> you people <i>would</i> believe. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The angels that fell, weren't fiery enough. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">LJ, October 27 2017 </span></span><br />
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Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-42484203474737342422017-10-22T18:10:00.000-07:002017-10-22T18:10:10.612-07:00MELINDA SMITH<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnJO5LCub9HVJSfn_XdIs6cPnaqpjhoIIcvNpgYKJd1mXxloW06umpogUGB1-3aezTmdscofTXVTfWgMUoIO7suWh-wEiKcgt4h7WcnVPlinNgYR_W8c_-6y38GiEsbTd9rrfONSW2Xh51/s1600/Monochrome_chair_med_res.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnJO5LCub9HVJSfn_XdIs6cPnaqpjhoIIcvNpgYKJd1mXxloW06umpogUGB1-3aezTmdscofTXVTfWgMUoIO7suWh-wEiKcgt4h7WcnVPlinNgYR_W8c_-6y38GiEsbTd9rrfONSW2Xh51/s640/Monochrome_chair_med_res.jpg" width="425" /></a></div>
<br />Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-2466993796057050372017-10-19T19:50:00.001-07:002017-10-22T18:08:34.344-07:00CRUX #10 - MELINDA SMITH<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Melinda Smith's writing really, really impresses me. Her debut collection with Pitt Street Poetry, <i>Drag down to unlock or place an emergency call</i> (what a great title!) is one of the most inventive, arresting and moving collections of Australian poetry I've read in the past decade. She is a gift to Australian writing! Her work cuts straight to the heart of the matter; the poetry she pens is full of compassion and warmth and sincerity. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I thank Melinda very much for her openness and honesty in this revealing interview. I should also thank her for her patience... this should have been published on CRUX ages ago! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">------------------------------------------------------------------------</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Melinda Smith's work has appeared in many publications including <i>Cordite, Verity La, Quadrant,</i><i> Island </i>and<i> The Best Australian Poems</i>. She has two poetry collections with Sydney's Pitt Street Poetry. Her work has been widely anthologised and translated into several languages. In 2014, she won the Prime Minister's Literary Award. She lives in Canberra. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">------------------------------------------------------------------------</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>What was there before poetry?</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">There was always poetry. I wrote poems from when I was young. I loved A.A. Milne and Dr Seuss and Ogden Nash. And also, growing up with an Anglican priest for a father, the rhythms and hymns in church every Sunday probably lodged in my head as well. I wasn't particularly good at drawing or music or making anything with my hands, so writing poems was always my creative outlet on the side. I started getting serious about poetry in terms of writing for publication in my twenties, when I was in the middle of PhD study in another discipline (Japanese History) and not enjoying it much. I ditched the PhD but stayed with the poetry all through subsequent decades, qualifying as a lawyer and working for several years in the public service and in the IT industry. And becoming a parent twice. It is only since winning the PM's Literary Award at the end of 2014, though, that I've been able to dip out of most paid work and focus on poetry a bit more. It still has to fit into the time left over from being the primary carer for my sons, but at least when everyone manages to make it to school I score some more writing time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Which part of a poem is hardest to construct?</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The part you are most afraid to write. But that is almost always the part worth persevering with.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Think of someone in their forties. They don't like poetry and they haven't read a poem since high school. You have the job of writing a poem for them. What do you write? Why?</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">About fifty percent of my poems are written for this person - for a general audience or non-specialist reader. In my mind this reader is not somehow a lesser person because they don't read poetry - they might be really into other kinds of culture, they might read fiction, or love cinema, or jazz, or whatever, but they don't read poetry. At the moment. So when I write a poem for a reader like this, I have to leave a way in for them. The poem might be a sonnet or an acrostic or a syllabic or a piece of ekphrasis or a complicated allusion to another poem, but for me the poem fails if the general reader can't engage with it without the need for that technical knowledge. It they want to go deeper the layers are there. But on the surface there must be something that invites them in, even if it's just a phrase that sparks a lot of questions they find themselves wanting answers to, or a particularly arresting bit of word-music. Or it could be addressing one of the universal themes we have in common - love, loneliness, death, birth, regret etc. There's no particular kind of poem you might write for this person - but it has to speak to their humanity rather than their specialist literary qualifications. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>If you weren't living in Canberra, where would you be based?</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">My life has a number of sliding door moments in it. In those alternative lives I live in Shikoku, Japan, Syracuse, NY, Washington DC or Melbourne. It I got to choose now where to live I think I would stay in Canberra - but I would like the universe to also arrange a beach house somewhere on the South Coast of NSW. With a caretaker and a cleaner.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Does the Australian Government look seriously enough as mental health in this country?</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I assume this question is because of the depression poems in <i>Drag down to unlock</i>... and the suicide poems in <i>Goodbye, Cruel</i>. I'm not an expert on mental health policy. I am, however, a survivor of mental health issues, as are several people whom I love. I think as a society we need to move beyond 'awareness' to understanding, support, and most crucially, preventative action. A key preventative factor is connectedness - to family, to community, to purpose. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">If I could step up on the soapbox for a moment, I'd like to plug the Kurdiji 1.0 project, an indigenous-led initiative which is developing an app to encourage young people to stay connected. They are crowdfunding on GoFundMe. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We all need to look after each other and we need support to do that from employers and governments. Poetry can help too, in its tiny way, by looking with clear eyes at the difficult things and making a space where it is safe to speak of them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Do female poets have enough of a voice in Australia?</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I think things are improving but there is still a need for editors, festival organisers, prize juries, grant administrators etc to make conscious decisions about gender balance, not only in terms of what is selected to be published, reviewed (reviewing is a particular problem area), programmed, awarded and funded, but in terms of who gets to do the selecting. There is an even greater need to think about cultural diversity and to have strategies to address imbalances there. If you can't see it, you can't be it, as the saying goes, and young indigenous people and young people whose names aren't Smith need to have writers to look up to, just as young women need to see older women holding power and respect in the literary world.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>What are you most proud of?</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">In 2011, I got a little ArtsACT grant to write a day a week to produce a chapbook of poems on the theme of autism. That book, <i>First..., Then...</i>, came out in 2012. The poems are written from a number of different perspectives - parents, siblings, onlookers, as well as poetic responses to the autobiographies of autistic authors. Every time I read a poem from <i>First..., Then...</i>, I get one or two audience members coming up afterwards to chat about that part of their lives. A couple of years ago a young man bought a copy from me, and a few days later he Facebook-messaged me to say he had been reading it to his Mum, his autistic sister and her autistic son (the young man's nephew). He said, 'Thank you. You've helped bring our family closer together.' At that point I thought, if I never write another word, I have done something worthwhile with my poetry. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Of course, I have been varying degrees of pleased and shocked to receive other kinds of accolades - but in all honesty that little book and its impact on one family remain the things I am proudest of so far. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>What were the challenges you faced when writing Drag down... and Goodbye Cruel? </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Starting, keeping going, finishing, and everything in between.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">To elaborate, <i>Drag down... </i>was written over a period of ten years, beginning during my first pregnancy and ending when that child was nine and his little brother was six and a half. During that time I went through the normal combine harvester that is becoming a parent, with a bonus dose of post-natal depression and the extra overhead of adjusting to having a child with special needs. I'm not trying to claim this as the toughest possible life experience - after all, I never stopped being white, educated and having enough money to live on. All the same, some of those years were very difficult and I didn't write much at all. My monthly poetry workshop group (Suzanne Edgar, Martin Dolan, Michael Thorley) kept me going and kept me producing the odd draft, but there were a lot of meetings where I'd turn up and say, 'Sorry guys, I've got nothing again this time'. Also, when I finally started to get my mojo back, in 2011, I ended up committed to completing the autism project described above, which meant I put the <i>Drag down...</i> manuscript away for a whole year. So it was a very slow train coming. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The heart of <i>Drag down...</i> is (not surprisingly) the pregnancy, childbearing, postnatal depression and parenting sequence in the <i>Downloads</i> section. Most of those poems were written when an old friend became pregnant for the first time, and I thought, right, I want to write poems for her as a kind of guide. The work came out of wanting to say, 'here's what I have learned - it may not help you, your journey may different, but for what it's worth, here's an account of some terrain I know.' As I've said elsewhere, that sequence is not a definitive take on the subject matter, or anywhere near as good as the best writing in this space, it's just my take on it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">One part of that book which was relatively trouble-free was the finding-a-publisher part. I sent it to Pitt Street Poetry, they read it, and they said yes. I will always be thankful to them for that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">As for <i>Goodbye, Cruel</i>, starting it was complicated by the fact that four months after I launched <i>Drag down...</i> one of my sons developed a chronic, incurable, life-threatening medical condition. Poetry was the last thing on my mind as we spent a week in hospital with him, learning how to do round-the-clock blood testing and injections, and how to calculate the grams of carbohydrate in every one of his meals with scientific precision. Not to mention visiting his school twice a day for several months afterwards to train the staff how to do those things during the day. At the time, <i>Drag down...</i> was shortlisted for the Prime Minister's Literary Award. I don't think I'd written any poems for nine months and I felt like a complete fraud. When it won, the last thing I felt like was smiling into a lot of pointed cameras and talking about my achievements. All I wanted was for our son not to have what we had.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Fortunately, he has been an amazing trooper about the whole thing, and all of us have now adjusted to our new normal. But it was a bumpy road for a while.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">One enormous positive which came out of winning the Award was a period of freedom from paid work. I'd already been talking with my very understanding, wonderful partner, about taking some time off work to re-balance things; the prize money made that decision much easier and has extended that period of freedom for much longer that would otherwise have been possible. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The actual writing of the book was a fits and starts process which really got underway once the 2015 school year began. This time a couple of things were different: I felt pressure to produce a worthy follow up to my unexpected prize winner; and I was suddenly in demand as a reader, speaker, reviewer, editor, collaborator and launcher. It took a long time to get my working rhythm adjusted to these extra factors. The best policy was obviously to ignore the first and enjoy the second (while still remaining productive by using travel time for writing as much as possible). I was not always able to put this policy into practice.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I became aware at some point in 2015 that several of my drafts dealt with suicide in some way and that something was starting to coalesce around the theme. In the end, that sequence of poems became the heart of the book and gave its name. I suppose I became interested in writing about this difficult topic because one person in my circle had been talking about it seriously for several years and another had tried twice but was still with us. I had noticed the great silence that opens up when someone takes (or tries to take) their own life - a silence that can prevent families and communities healing, and that can discourage people thinking about it from seeking help. The poems came from a wish to break this silence in a small way. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I should say that the final book, despite its title, actually contains less than twenty suicide poems, and there are many other kinds of work in it: micropoems, translations from a 10th Century Persian poetess, poems describing real and imagined disasters, light lyrics, and more experimental work with found text. The whole thing really came together during two weeks in May 2016 at the Writer's Cottage at Bundanon, for which I have to thank the Bundanon Trust. As well as giving me time and space to work on <i>Goodbye, Cruel</i> and my other piles of drafts, Bundanon gave me several un-looked-for poems of its own, most of which are in the <i>Riverine</i> section of the book. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Now that it is done and out in the world, I feel enormous relief. I am proud of having pushed through despite of everything else that was going on. Goodness knows what people will make of it; it is very different to my last book. Here's hoping it finds a reader or two.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>You were once a tea maiden. Shed some light on this. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I haven't mentioned that my abortive PhD was actually at the University of Cambridge. I got a scholarship for Commonwealth students, but only completed one year of the three. My time as a tea maiden (okay, a waitress at an old-world style tea room) was in the months after I had quit - no more scholarship meant no more rent money, and while I worked out my next move, I needed a job. The tea rooms in question was The Orchard of Grantchester, a village just along the river from Cambridge, onetime haunt of the Bloomsbury group - and onetime residence of poet Rupert Brooke.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">On summer Sundays, the place was completely teeming with American tourists and members of the braying classes up from London seeking an Edwardian earthly paradise. What they got were teabags in enormous tarnished pots, three day old cake, frankly unsafe ramshackle deckchairs under the straggly apple trees and weather fine enough to take their minds off it if they were very lucky. Meanwhile, as a shift supervisor, I was dealing with employees smoking heroin in the loos, and barefaced Basil Fawlty lying to customers stupid enough to ask if the sea bass was fresh. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Tell me about tomorrow...</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I hope it is quiet and solitary. Having just done a whole lot of public appearances launching the new book, I feel like I need that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">For the first time in years, I haven't got a big meaty project on the go. I feel like I need to do a lot more reading and reflecting - and processing everything that's happened both poetically and personally since 2014. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I've just handed over the poetry editor gig at <i>The Canberra Times</i> to a new editor so that's another change. It has been an enormously stimulating and inspiring two years, but I am ready for someone else to take a turn now. I'm replacing that with some other bits and pieces of contract work to subsidise my poetic activities.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I do have a few smaller projects I'm part of - a set of translations of Japanese poet Kawaguchi Harumi; contributing to a couple of other themed multi-poet anthologies that look like fun; and spoken-word improvising with a dance company. I'm also researching and writing a set of workshops. Every day this year you can see a micro poem of mine on the Instagram account @lookup.project. This is an ekphrasis collaboration with artist Rhonda Ayliffe - she took a photograph of the sky every day for a year and my little poems work like captions to those. It's also a short film and a set of postcards. In amongst all that I'm toying with further study. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I have no idea what tomorrow looks like - but as long as it involves reading, writing and continued health for those I love, I will call that a win. </span><br />
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Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-90799673258725405692017-10-10T21:22:00.001-07:002017-10-10T21:29:08.026-07:00A SHORT REVIEW OF RICO CRAIG'S BONE INK<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Rico Craig's <i>Bone Ink</i> (Guillotine Press, 2017) is unpredictable, ambitious and layered. It is surprising to see this is Craig's first volume, as the work is assured, mature. <i>Bone Ink</i> explores the corners of the known suburban world (e.g. Kellyville, Westmead and Quakers Hill in western Sydney) and hands us things we haven't fully investigated or recognised yet. Craig plays a magician time and again, weaving and spinning the ordinary into the sublime. He reminds us to stop and really take in the world we tell ourselves we know. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Much has already been said about Craig's investigation into myth and masculinity and how he had handled these notions with aplomb, so I will concentrate on his ability to generate exquisite lyricism in an effortless manner. This is his great, great strength. The writing is often as electric as quicksilver in midsummer. I come back to Craig's wording and sentence structure more than I do his overall messages or points. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Take the following from <i>Through the Witch Window</i> (possibly the most accomplished and memorable poem in <i>Bone Ink; </i>here, Tranströmer and Ginsberg seem to conspire and inspire) - </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>My head out the window, howling your name into celestial </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>alignment; we're satellite streaks, orbital promise.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Or these fragments from <i>Tropical Storm Danielle: Night Surfing</i> - </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>We know nothing like stealing a wave from the night... I'm drawn to the gleaming rig windows, their burley of distant alliance.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Chris Ofili in</i> <i>The Upper Room</i> concludes with this golden line -</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>They scamper and we gleefully ditch our humanity, chasing, a pack running to know the tremble in our ribs. </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hamburg opens with, <i>If anyone asks I will say, you are oceans away, afloat in the ventricles of a great city's heart.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">These are all perfect lines, ideal lines, lines to have tattooed onto your forearm and paraded. I wish I'd written them. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My only reservation with<i> Bone Ink</i> is its density and ambiguity. Some of the poems are too cryptic: an overall clarity and resonance is sacrificed. Some of the pieces in the collection's second half, <i>The Upper Room</i>, needed more backstory or context to anchor them - this would have made them easier to grasp. Perhaps, some of these poems could've been trimmed to make them punchier, more purposeful. Many readers may totally disagree with me here. Maybe, I am too much a fan of briefer poems.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The cover of the collection is electric, breathtakingly alive. If only it was real neon! With its combination of letters and symbols it immediately reminded me of the iconic, impactful jackets of 80s Split Enz albums <i>True Colours</i> and <i>Corroboree</i>. I take my hat off to the designer, Camille Walala.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Bone Ink</i> is a gutsy volume to revisit and hold onto as your travel through our city's outer suburbs at midnight on a Saturday night. Well done to Guillotine Press on another impressive collection. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">LJ, October 2017. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-84491378663394134652017-10-09T15:12:00.004-07:002017-10-09T15:13:22.765-07:00A FIERCER LIGHT<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Please join me on Sunday October 22 at Gleebooks in Sydney for the launch of <i>A Fiercer Light</i>, a new collection of essays on the poetry of Judith Wright. The book has been edited by Peter Skrzynecki and published by Five Senses Education. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I have an essay - <i>Feel the Circuit Blaze</i> - on Judith's collection <i>Birds</i> in the volume; this essay also looks at my own time with Australia's incredible bird life. Peter and I will be talking and reading from Judith's work at the launch. It would be lovely to see you there. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">LJ, October 10, 2017. </span></div>
Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-30483260573783806142017-05-15T16:32:00.003-07:002017-05-15T18:36:39.034-07:00CROSSING DEPTHS TO WHERE SKY IS JUST SKY<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">In 2016, my good friend and teaching colleague Jackie Benney asked me to become involved in an art project she had up her sleeve - she had been granted a hanging space in Waverley Library Galleries in Sydney's Eastern Suburbs. I was flattered. Jackie's work is visceral and poignant; previous works and shows of hers have been critically acclaimed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">What has emerged over many months of talking and thinking and writing and painting is Crossing Depths To Where Sky Is Just Sky, an examination of the Syrian refugee crisis, with a particular focus on crossing the Aegean by boat. Greek mythology has also played a part in things. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jackie </span></span><span style="font-size: large;">has assembled some striking pieces and I have responded to these with poems various. Jackie has also responded to my lyricism. The writing has been hard to get right. Avoiding sentimentality, operating from a position of respect for displaced peoples and finding a universal truth has been a great challenge. I am proud of the work that I have penned thus far - I can't wait to share these fresh poems with you. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Crossing Depths To Where Sky Is Just Sky will be showing at Waverley Library Galleries (48 Denison St Bondi Junction) from July 11 until August 8. Please join Jackie and I for opening night drinks on Wednesday July 12 at 6pm.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">LJ, May 16 2017</span></span>Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-54780445996641043692017-05-09T19:10:00.003-07:002017-05-11T19:02:27.851-07:00CRUX #9 - BRONWYN LOVELL <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLCkNXDk0jVfDBiOkjZw0m0OhtqRr-6VZMNfLejpgXFZy_f1V3DoUGIv6h5tD8LuYv9UCiWpsulcMqrBqS6gsnT5ubQm1pS0izjvS5MPKr3cSzpOE87uhJKG63jD2p17MK-2jiJj22HmGl/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLCkNXDk0jVfDBiOkjZw0m0OhtqRr-6VZMNfLejpgXFZy_f1V3DoUGIv6h5tD8LuYv9UCiWpsulcMqrBqS6gsnT5ubQm1pS0izjvS5MPKr3cSzpOE87uhJKG63jD2p17MK-2jiJj22HmGl/s640/unnamed.jpg" width="425" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">It is a delight to have Bronwyn Lovell appear in this edition of CRUX. Bronwyn lives and breathes poetry in all its forms. Her spoken word performances (available on Youtube) are raw and mesmerising - we are given a self-assured, brave and galvanised young poet. When she was working for Australian Poetry she was a great supporter of this country's poets, whether emerging or established (I'd like to personally thank her for promoting my own work via twitter).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Here, Bronwyn talks about the many sides to feminism, working with indigenous people in Cape York, how writing can be intimidating and the resonance the first <i>Alien</i> film has for her today. It's an engaging piece, full of conviction. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I'd like to thank Bronwyn for her honest responses. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Hopefully, we'll meet up one day and talk sci-fi films!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Bronwyn Lovell is a PhD Candidate in Creative Writing at Flinders University in Adelaide. She has worked in both administration and publication roles for both Australian Poetry and Writers Victoria. Currently, Bronwyn is working on a feminist verse novel set in space. Her writing has appeared in <i>Award Winning Australian Writing, Best Australian Poems, Australian Poetry Journal, Australian Love Poems, Antipodes, Cordite, Rabbit, Eureka Street, The Global Poetry Anthology </i>and<i> ABC News Online</i>. Bronwyn has won the Adrien Abbott Poetry Prize, and been shortlisted for The Montreal International Poetry Prize, The Newcastle Poetry Prize and the Bridport Prize. </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">What was there before poetry?</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">For me, I'd have to say movies. I wanted to be an actor for a while. Then I wanted to be an auteur. I majored in Film Studies in my Bachelor degree at the University of Sydney before going on on to a Masters in Creative Writing, mainly because I wanted to study scriptwriting. I enjoyed poetic writing best, especially in voice-narrated fiction film, so I took the poetry workshop to improve my prose. I felt completely out of my depth. I had that fear of poetry that is very common; I was afraid I didn't understand it. Terrified in fact. I was sure I would be discovered as a complete fraud and kicked out of the class.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">My teacher was Judith Beveridge. I had studied her poems in high school. Thankfully, she is the most unassuming and down-to-earth person I've ever been fortunate to encounter. She is wise and humble, incredibly experienced and knowledgeable, but not in the least bit intimidating. Her teaching style is gentle, her manner thoughtful, her feedback insightful and generous. I loved her class and signed up for another the following semester. Pretty soon, I cared more about poetry than scriptwriting.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">And I remembered that, way before I had become frightened of poetry, I had written it. I wrote a childish form of poetry from a very young age. It was a kind of game for me. Finding rhymes to match other words, like playing snap, or finding a puzzle piece that fits. There was nothing subtle about my early poetry. It was not art. It was play.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">As soon as there were lullabies there was poetry. As soon as there were picture books and nursery rhymes. As soon as there were sounds and words to shape on the tongue. As soon as there was song. So perhaps, there was nothing before poetry. Just light, breasts, human warmth... maybe it's all poetry.</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Share a poetic childhood memory...</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Christmas completely enchanted me as a child. I was particularly taken by the songs and movies featuring a white Christmas. Everyone always got excited on screen when it began snowing. With lyrics like, 'I'm dreaming of a white Christmas', it was clear to me that a white Christmas was something special that didn't always happen, but if you were lucky enough you might get to experience this magical event. I had never been so fortunate growing up in Western Sydney, but I held hope every year. Thankfully, my parents never had the heart to explain seasons, climate or hemispheres, and hence the utter hopelessness of my dream.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">However, early one Christmas morning when I was about five years old, my parents woke me up and sent me outside. It was 5am and the sky was still dark. The street and everybody's front yards were white. A giant hailstorm had covered our suburb in chunks of ice. 'Here is your white Christmas', they said. 'This is as good as you'll get. Enjoy it before it melts'.</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Tell me about your work with Cape York's indigenous people.</span></i><br />
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I can't help but be very conscious of my own privilege growing up in mainstream white Australia. And I always feel a little anxious when people ask me to talk about my time in Indigenous communities because there were positive and negative aspects of that experience, and sometimes the stories I share aren't what people want to hear, and sometimes I feel unsure of whether or not those stories are mine to tell.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I admit I was really shocked when I first visited a remote Indigenous community. It didn't feel like any Australia I'd ever known. It was like stepping into a Third World country. There was rubbish everywhere. Homeless dogs were scavenging the streets, covered in mange. I was seeing things I'd never seen before and it was extremely distressing. I remember wondering how a broken ceiling fan gets up a palm tree. I was in complete culture shock. I rang home, crying to my parents.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I went to Cape York to teach remedial literacy in primary schools. Often I taught children who laughed with me and were eager to learn, who tried really hard and beamed with pride when praised for their efforts. But there were times I taught terrors of children who threw their desks and chairs, swore at me, threatened me, were violent in their frustration. The most difficult children to teach were those who couldn't read three-letter words, despite being overdue to start high school. They were stuck on baby books. They were angry, understandably. There was much at stake. It was desperate.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">There are barriers to learning that are challenging to overcome in these conditions. Too many of the children suffered permanent hearing loss from preventable conditions. A couple had foetal alcohol syndrome and were unable to retain new information. Some had been sexually abused. Others came to school with scabies and sores. All the children were beyond resilient. These kids were amazing. And most of Australia has no concept of their daily struggles and joys. </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">What moment in your esteemed poetry career are you most proud of?</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">It doesn't feel esteemed at all. <i>Emerging</i> is a word I'm more comfortable with than <i>esteemed, </i>but then again I've been emerging for a long time. I've been writing seriously for more than a decade and I don't have a published collection yet. A couple of international shortlistings is the most impressive thing on my CV, along with some small, local successes. I was proud to be included in <i>Best Australian Poems</i> a couple of years back, next to all those impressive poets' names.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">A career in poetry is a funny thing. It doesn't feel like one imagines a career should. It isn't structured or linear. A poet's success can't be measured in the usual ways. Precious few successful poets in this country would ever, I imagine, be able to buy a house or car from their poetry income. As a society, we don't value poetry. That is, we don't attach a monetary value to it. It's <i>priceless</i>. So while poets may lead a rich life in many ways, we will always be poor.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I've made sacrifices to pursue writing as a career. I work for minimum wage. I don't have weekends. I don't have financial security or superannuation. Being a poet feels like swimming upstream - it costs a lot to choose not to go with the flow - mentally, physically, financially.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">At this point in my poetry <i>career</i> I think I'm proud of not giving up, of continuing to put work out there despite rejection. I'm proud of myself for trying. There's an Australian cultural cringe associated with trying. None of us want to be seen as trying too hard. Being a <i>try hard </i>was the biggest insult at my high school. That and loving yourself. I remember 'She loves herself!' was spat accusingly in my direction a few times when I did well in a test. It's funny to reflect on now. Both these things are not easy to do: to have the guts to really try, and to value yourself. I fail at both most of the time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I think I'll be proudest when I finish my verse novel. I hope I can tell the story as movingly as I imagine and write it as beautifully as it reads in my head. Like everything, the writing of it started with a wonderful idea that came to me, and my biggest fear is that I won't be able to do justice to that original vision.</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">What are the challenges faced by feminist writers in Australia today?</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">A huge challenge, I would say, is overcoming societal misunderstandings of feminism.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I had a discussion with a woman earlier in the year who told me she is not a feminist and does not support feminism. I was astounded and also a little offended. However, after probing her reasons for this standpoint, I realised that this woman's gripe was not with the ideology of feminism but with the word itself. She said she doesn't like feminism because it sounds like it's 'all about women'. She liked the idea of gender equality though, and thought that if feminism was called 'equalism' or something similar, then she'd feel more comfortable supporting it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Australia's Deputy Leader of the Liberal Party, Julie Bishop, does not identify as feminist either, saying the word 'isn't part of my lexicon' and 'not a term I find particularly useful these days'. She says that she would never blame being a woman on any obstacle or setback in her career. I find Bishop's sense of superiority here to be false, and her assumptions disturbing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Statements like Bishop's imply that feminists are whingers who should simply knuckle down and work harder, rather than pointing out that societal systems have been set up in ways that are biased against and unfair to women. Also, suggesting that feminism is no longer relevant implies that society has eradicated the problems posed by sexism. This is simply not true, and taking such a position towards feminism is not only ill-informed, it is also deeply irresponsible.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The public is too quick to declare feminist writers femi-Nazis, to mansplain feminism to them, and - especially now, with the anonymity of the online space - to insult, violently threaten and otherwise abuse women for their political views.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">This is a country where our first female prime minister, Julia Gillard, was subjected to a relentless torrent of sexist abuse that revealed a deeply prejudiced Parliament, press and public. Australia proved it was not ready for a female leader, and sadly, neither was the United States. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Perhaps the biggest problem is subconscious gender bias. We are all sexist, but most of us don't think we are, because we're unaware of the deep-seated patriarchal values and beliefs that shape our thought processes and influence our decisions and judgements. All of us need to examine our thinking more critically, all the time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">More than a political stance, feminism is a personal experience. Sexists aren't strangers, they're colleagues, family and friends. It's tiring and disheartening to continually come up against the same close-minded arguments aimed to shut feminist discussion down - in the boardroom, in the newspaper, or at the kitchen table. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Feminist writers are essential in keeping the conversation going and fundamental in promoting public awareness of issues, which is the first step towards lasting change.</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">You're interested in women in space and you're working on a sci-fi verse novel set in space. In that context, which fictional female character in sci-fi films do you most admire and why?</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I could write an essay on this. In fact, I'm writing a thesis. So, I will try to be brief.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I believe the most fascinating filmic depiction of a woman is Ripley in <i>Alien, </i>specifically the original film, because the script was written with an all-male cast. Since the alien was the most important aspect of the story, the writers had focused on the creature and not developed the human characters to the same extent. The crew members of the Nostromo were generic and there was a note on the script that specified that the sex of the characters was interchangeable. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Ripley's character was going to be predictably male until director Ridley Scott had the revolutionary idea to switch the gender and subvert the audience's expectations, because no one would expect a young attractive female character to be the lone survivor of a horror film. That was not how the genre used women. If they weren't saved by a male character, most women were hunted down, screamed wildly and promptly met a grisly end. Women did not outwit, outsmart, outplay, and hence, they did not survive. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Ripley differs because it is not a female role; it is simply a role played by a female. So this allowed Sigourney Weaver a rare freedom as an actor, in that she did not have to perform female gender in a way that had been written onto the character by male writers. And how refreshing, how revolutionary this was - still is today, in fact. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">What I admire about the character of Ripley, particularly in that first Alien film, is that she is capable and manages to remain calm and logical when other characters allow emotions to cloud their judgement. She is a valuable member of the ship's crew and is respected as such. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Unfortunately, when it came to revisit the character in the sequels, Ripley's gender is inevitably consciously written into the story by the series' all-male writers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">In the second film, Ripley is stripped of her professional status and reluctantly coerced into a mission by powerful and corrupt men; the writers make Ripley a mother whose child is dead; and the alien species, which displayed characteristics of both genders previously, is heavily skewed female when it is revealed to have an egg-laying queen, who is famously labelled 'bitch'. In the third instalment of the series, male criminals attempt to rape Ripley and she is saved from this fate not by her own strength and wit but by the timely intervention of another man, who she also happens to sleep with. And in the fourth film, there is a lot of sexually violent banter and behaviour towards Ripley, which begins to feel very tired and predictable, and nowhere near as exciting as our first introduction to Ripley in the original 1979 masterpiece.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">And yes, I do believe the first film to be the best, despite widespread popular opinion that its sequel is superior. <i>Aliens</i> may be faster-paced, but I prefer the slow burn of <i>Alien.</i> </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">When it comes to writing/performing poetry, what most intimidates you?</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Poetry slams definitely intimidate me. Memorising your work and then standing and reciting it in front of an audience with no notes and a strict time limit is extremely nerve-wracking. Especially since that time limit is often signalled by a scary-sounding bell or buzzer, and then some random audience members will hold up scores reflecting their judgement of your poem or performance. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Considering that the fear of public speaking is one of the most common phobias, poetry slams surely take social terror to the extreme. The whole scenario is pretty much my worst nightmare. I maintain the utmost admiration for those who are brave enough to enter poetry slams and make themselves vulnerable on the public stage.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I'm in my mid-thirties now, but when I was in my late twenties, I used to compete in slams quite a bit. I think that word 'compete' might actually be what presents the problem for me. 'Slam' doesn't sound much friendlier either. Neither does 'sacrificial poet', who is the person who volunteers to go first like the lamb to the slaughter on the performance poetry altar. And although most poetry slams are held in extremely warm, generous and supportive environments, the nature of a competition means there must be winners and losers. And for that reason I find it odd that we have so many competitions - written and oral - in the poetry world, because I believe poetry is far more nuanced and far more encompassing and personal than could possibly be reflected by any public competition's scoring strategy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">In terms of poetry on the page, reading amazingly talented poets can feel intimidating because you can't help but wonder how you could ever write anything as moving and insightful. Of course, comparing oneself to others is a useless exercise at best and crippling at worst. Part of yourself recognises your own inferiority and thinks, I should just give this up. And that isn't being insecure; it's being realistic. But you keep writing, because we are creatures of hope, and because the more you learn the more likely you are to get better.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">When you have lofty ambitions for your writing, your high standards can get in the way. When you are worried about writing well, it'd difficult to write naturally and authentically. I am experiencing said dilemma right now as I write this. It's a constant battle against the ego. What intimidates me most are my own expectations, and the expectations I think others have of me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The literati are intimidating. Academic language is intimidating. Deadlines are intimidating. Critics are intimidating. Open comments sections at the bottom of something you've written are intimidating. None of these are the enemy. Ego is the enemy. All of it comes back to how we feel about ourselves. The only way to not feel intimidated is to take yourself out of the equation and just focus on the work. </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Finish this sentence: The real Bronwyn Lovell... </span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">... is embarrassed by this question.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I hate to speak about myself in the third person. Something about it feels false and conceited. Of course, as writers we have to do this odd and unnatural thing quite a bit, usually when asked to supply a bio to accompany a piece of writing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">But even if this question were phrased differently, I would still be at a loss to answer it. My best attempt would be to say that I'm a single woman who lives with a dog and a cat in a one-bedroom unit in Adelaide that is stuffed with ornaments and trinkets, with colourful pictures and phrases stuck all over the walls, such that my whole home resembles a teenager's bedroom. I love trying to make my garden beautiful and spend a lot of time trying to get my lawn to grow. I work at a cinema to pay the bills. I am behind with my PhD and I am trying to catch up. I feel like a disaster most of the time, but I'm always trying to be less disastrous. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Understanding who you are in a professional sense seems a lot easier than the perpetual personal endeavour of coming to understand one's self psychologically. Sometimes I feel like completely different people on different days, or even at different times of the day. Sometimes, I get the urge to completely reinvent myself. To clear our my wardrobe and cut my hair and cast off old patterns of fabric and behaviour and embrace new ways of being in the world. To draft a new version of myself, to rewrite and edit my entity. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Like most people, I imagine, I am still trying to work out who the real me is and who knows whether that's a process of evolving towards the real or stripping back to it. So much of ourselves is constructed, but I don't think real equates to original either. I think we are all works of fiction. And the best fiction is always true.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Tell me about tomorrow...</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I have hopes, of course. I hope tomorrow is where my novel has been written, where I've found solutions to some of my problems, and where my heart has healed. I hope tomorrow is where I try hard and love myself. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Ultimately, who knows what I will make of the future or what it will make of me. All I know is that my best chance of positively influencing tomorrow is by doing the best I can today. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I used to be one of those people who always had a five-year plan. But life has had its own plans, every time. And I think life has known best. I used to be highly focused on the future, but I don't know that it was very healthy. It allowed me to live in fantasy more than reality. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I believe humanity has to implement some major changes if tomorrow is going to even exist for us as a species. I hope we can rise above our own selfishness to meet that challenge. </span><br />
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Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-26144531885448436622017-01-10T17:32:00.001-08:002017-01-10T17:34:45.249-08:00MORTON<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFBTFfW7T1WUTESkgPOtEdxxS7BuNsO8J4tDViSVcXMn-pzKNhofWzpPB1NALsFfid_oKkOxx4cMQvo0myhIOrABET2ldfDMP9zH9-k8WwBuzu_hm6HqN5el5AX7bmg6dWLbueFe7SmSwr/s1600/2017-01-11+11.35.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFBTFfW7T1WUTESkgPOtEdxxS7BuNsO8J4tDViSVcXMn-pzKNhofWzpPB1NALsFfid_oKkOxx4cMQvo0myhIOrABET2ldfDMP9zH9-k8WwBuzu_hm6HqN5el5AX7bmg6dWLbueFe7SmSwr/s400/2017-01-11+11.35.22.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-10002436606438957282016-12-25T23:57:00.003-08:002017-01-10T18:53:02.557-08:00GRATITUDE <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Before 2016 draws to a close, I'd like to publicly thank the following people for supporting me as a writer and celebrating the release of <i>Morton</i> (I feel like I'm the 'emerging poet' who has now wriggled free of The Great Chrysalis)... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">My family, my close friends, Magdalene's staff/students, John Knight, Linsay Knight, Richard Knight, Kylie Mulquin, John Foulcher, Peter Skrzynecki, Nathanael O'Reilly, Michele Seminara, Monica Markovina, Abbie Foxton, Kirsten Corcoran, Virginia Jealous, Jenny Blackford, Melinda Smith, Dan Disney, Felicity Plunkett, Les Wicks, Jean Kent, Benjamin Dodds, Stuart Barnes, Anthony Lawrence, Jill Jones, Bronwyn Lovell, Carmen Leigh Keates, Anne Casey, Rob Cairns, Thom Sullivan, Kit Kelen, Miguel Jacq, Anne Walsh, Mark Tredinnick, Michelle Cahill, Peter Lach-Newinsky, Bridget Griffen-Foley, James Fry, Fleur Ferris, Deborah McIntosh, Rhiannon Hall, Andre de Borde, Judy Leitch, Ariane Beeston and Jackie Benney (who is joining forces with me for <i>Crossing Depths to Where Sky is Just Sky</i> in 2017) . </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">My thanks must also go to the owners of those fabulous bookstores who stocked <i>Morton</i> this year. Good on you for continuing to invest in the subtle power of poetry. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">And finally, to all the good souls out there who purchased <i>Morton</i>, my sincere thanks. I am deeply flattered. I hope you got something out of it. Please visit Morton National Park in NSW very soon, and speak out for all our national parks in the future. Increasingly, our sublime wild spaces need your voices. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Love and light, </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">LJ x</span>Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-84049687816965194402016-11-03T16:02:00.004-07:002016-11-06T14:33:49.703-08:00MY LIFE WITH THE GANG-GANG GANG<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Last weekend, my Twitchathon team, the Gang-gang Gang (my oldest friend Steve Edwards; his mate from his childhood, Steve Cooper, and yours truly), travelled over 1300km in search of NSW birds. The Twitchathon is an Australia-wide race to see as many bird species as possible in 24 hrs. Yes, it's as adrenalising as base jumping or falling from space when on Red Bull or cage fighting or taking on Mexican wrestlers in a bad bar in Tijuana! Money is raised for Birdlife Australia. It's a great opportunity for citizen scientists to contribute to conservation and education. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Here is the route we took: Lake Wollumboola-Nowra-Kangaroo Valley-Bundanoon-Yass-Boorowa-West Wyalong-Ungarie-Lake Cargelligo-Nombinnie Nature Reserve-Lake Cargelligo- Ungarie-West Wyalong-Weddin Mountains area-Murringo Gap-Boorowa-Yass-Bundanoon-Robertson-Macquaire Pass. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We all started birding back in the mid-80s, so there's a lot of knowledge (and eccentricity) in the Gang-gang Gang. This was the third Twitch for our posse. We recorded 193 species in a 24 hr period. Not as good as last year, where we found 203 species in a 24 hr period, but still bloody good. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Moments worth mentioning... getting drenched courtesy of a sudden squall when trying to identify waders at Lake Wollumboola... a camera falling from the 4WD and breaking... putting a staggering, hurting emu chick out of its misery (the bird had been hit by a car)... unpleasant... we were all mournful... sleeping for an hour (after 3:30am) in the back of a 4WD filled with mosquitoes... not recommended... waking to the dawn chorus in Nombinnie's mallee... heaven... dead insects everywhere in a Wyalong truck stop toilet... crossing flooded roads where Whiskered Terns hunted... confusing a lamb with a cattle egret... yep, embarrassing... what was I saying about all that knowledge?... and it was I who confused the two... seeing a Hooded Robin for the first time in 20 years... knowing when to move on... knowing when to stay... gulping coffee and liquorice all sorts... speaking to three blokes in raincoats, with beers, who asked us what we the hell we were doing and referenced The Big Year... trying to stay awake and alert and focused and cheerful... crying 'Carn the Gang-gang Gang' at times when we hadn't seen a new bird for ages, so as to keep the morale up... drinking beer at the end of the whole thing (in the carpark at the base of Macquarie Pass and all its glorious rainforest)... testing each other on bird calls... taking the piss out of each other at every opportunity... </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We birded in mallee, dry grassy woodland, rainforest, wet sclerophyll woodland, on a beach, at an estuary, by sewage ponds, next to swamps, in towns, by inland rivers, at service stations, in open farmlands etc. Landscape was so much of the experience. Nombinnie Nature Reserve's red dirt, spinifex and perplexing corridors of stunted trees blow our minds on each visit. The three of us see the place as sacred: we ache for Nombinnie for days after leaving it. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The most noteworthy bird species: Superb Parrot, Mulga Parrot, Green Catbird, Yellow-throated Scrubwren, Rockwarbler, Hooded Robin, Little Button-quail, Painted Button-quail, Gilbert's Whistler, Splendid Fairy-wren, Spotted Harrier, Southern Scrub-robin, Shy Heathwren, Chestnut Quail-thrush, Crested Bellbird, Black-eared Cuckoo, Pink Cockatoo, Grey-fronted Honeyeater, Plumed Whistling-duck, Wandering Whistling-duck, Blue-billed Duck, Bar-tailed Godwit, Red-necked Stint. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">An adventurous time. Kerouac would've been proud. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">LJ, November 4 2016. </span></span>Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-49536933847973703442016-10-11T20:46:00.002-07:002016-10-17T00:17:46.286-07:00UPDATE<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">What's happening...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I've been asked to launch the Southern Highlands Arts Festival October 21... Sturt Gallery, Mittagong NSW... 5pm... a new poem I've penned concerning Emily Bronte in the Southern Highlands will be displayed on a Mittagong pavement during the time of the Festival... it's part of the Raining Poetry initiative... Mark Tredinnick is also involved... the poem is only visible when it rains... I'm beginning an essay on Judith Wright's <i>Birds</i> for a forthcoming publication... a colleague and I may well be collaborating on a project concerning refugees... she's painting on rice paper and I'm providing the words... the work will be displayed in Sydney's eastern suburbs in 2017... ANTIC has taken two of my poems for an issue in 2017... one poem is on Siri... the other looks at hipsters... thanks to Kirstin Corcoran... Hallowell Press in WA has accepted a poem on migratory shorebirds for their upcoming anthology <i>Flightpath</i>... thanks to Virginia Jealous... a poem I put together on a woman grieving for the loss of her partner is now out in the 2016 Grieve Anthology... I have an interesting new person on board for CRUX... her interview will be published in December... about to begin writing an essay on a sliver of NSW mallee for a particular comp... putting finishing touches to poems for the Peter Porter and New Shoots comps... So, a rich and rewarding time. How lucky I am. It hasn't always been like this, that's for sure!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">LJ, October 12 2016.</span></div>
Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-62748643425396818222016-10-11T14:14:00.002-07:002017-01-12T00:44:17.415-08:00CRUX #8 - JEAN KENT <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">What can I say? There are times I wish I wrote with Jean Kent's finesse. She makes things look effortless. I have several of her collections at home and each of them has lines that knock me unconscious. Her poems are lengthy, continually engaging and unpredictable - I can learn much from her sustained voice and purpose. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">In this instalment of CRUX, Jean tells us about summoning up the courage to speak to Bruce Dawe, growing up in Queensland, teaching at TAFE, judging the Newcastle Poetry Prize in 2013... and many other things. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Jean Kent was born in Chinchilla, Queensland in 1951. She first published her poems in 1970. Her work has won many major prizes including the Josephine Ulrick National Poetry Prize and the Henry Kendall Poetry Award (on two occasions). Jean has published five books of poetry. Her latest chapbook,<i> Paris in my pocket</i> (Pitt Street Poetry) is an exquisite thing, featuring striking illustrations courtesy of her husband. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">What was there before poetry?</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">My initial response to this question is to say 'prose'... although I probably really mean 'stories'... or 'words'. Even before I could write, I was making up stories and telling them to myself. Aloud, of course. You can do this before you go to school and learn not to! I did try to write some of them on the walls of the house, and on pages in books, using my own kind of writing, but that wasn't encouraged.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Was there a time without poetry? I'm not sure there was. My mother is very fond of A.A. Milne's verses about Christopher Robin and I think she probably read and recited those a lot when I was very young. Then, at primary school, the Queensland School Reader was chock-a-block with the great classics. I remember being introduced to Wordworth's <i>Daffodils</i> when I was ten or eleven... I didn't particularly connect with that formal style of writing, or even the Australian bush ballads which we had quite a lot of, but I do remember loving the <i>music </i>of poetry. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">So, long before I reached the age of sixteen and started compulsively writing myself, I'd been hearing poetry and reading it... I never thought that I would be a 'poet'. That felt like something extraordinarily exotic and special. I wanted to write but I expected I'd write prose - novels - and my own poems would just be a private passion. The real poetry would be by other people. </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">How would you best define your writing? </span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">This is the question I find hardest to answer and would much rather leave to others. If pushed, I'd say it's probably lyrical, but also based on character and narrative. My poems are responses to real experiences, life as I know it or witness it on an everyday basis. They are an attempt to say what is otherwise unsayable. But I also hope that they're accessible and a pleasure to read. I do love the words themselves, and the possibilities of playing with language, so that as well as expressing something deeply felt, I'm making something that can go out into the world with its own magic.</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">What did you learn from your time working as a psychologist in TAFE?</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">TAFE gave me another education. I started at Sydney Tech in 1977 and though I was principally attached to the General Studies Section, which mostly offered a second d chance for mature age people wanting to do the HSC, I also had to learn about all the trades and other training areas covered by the technical system then. Before that, I had no idea what a fitter and turner did, for instance - but as part of our training we were taken to the college workshops where we would see the reality of the machines and the heavy boots and the smell of heated metal. I loved that opportunity to be present in a world that was very different from the one I'd grown up in. In my counselling office, that sort of privileged sharing of someone else's world continued. I learned that you could never assume that people's lives were simple or that they had no secret dreams or ambitions. People were walking novels, and I'd spend my days amazed by the stories of their lives. </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Share with me a story involving other Australian poets...</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Growing up in country Queensland, I didn't know any real, living poets. My first sighting of any of these mythical creatures was when I was a student at Queensland University. It was 1970. The campus was in upheaval because of the Moratorium against the war in Vietnam. As part of the protests, a poetry reading was held...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I don't remember all the participants, but Judith Wright was there, and so was Bruce Dawe. Judith Wright looked frail and her voice was warmly and eerily haunting. She was one of the editors of The Poet's Pen, the anthology of poetry I'd studied in the last two years of secondary school, so seeing her was really extraordinary, and I don't think it would have mattered how she'd read or what, I was so in awe. My memory of the event is that we were all holding candles, but I don't know whether that actually happened or whether it's just an image I've created to match the atmosphere of held breath and respect.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Bruce Dawe read his poem <i>Homecoming</i>, about the dead soldiers being zipped into green plastic bags and flown home: <i>All day, day after day, they're bringing them home... </i>He had the dry, laconic tone of voice I recognised from all the country towns I'd grown up in, as well as being so powerfully anti-war, the poem was both matter-of-fact and celebratory about the places these young men had come from. I was mesmerised. I remember the shock of silence at the end, and the feeling that a space in time - my time, at any rate - had been carved out to hold the poem for me forever.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I still get shivery remembering that four decades later. I felt extraordinarily grateful for that experience. But of course, at the time, I would never ever have contemplated speaking to the poet himself... It wasn't until many, many years later I actually did so. It was 2006. I'd been invited to read and speak at an event in Toowoomba, Bruce Dawe's hometown for a long time, and mine for several years. Bruce Dawe was the other poet invited and even though he still had this status in my mind as an elder to be looked up to, he was friendly and approachable. So, at dinner afterwards, I plucked up all my courage and told him how important that reading in 1970 had been for me. I wish I had written down exactly what he said in reply. What I remember is a gracious thank you, followed by, 'We never know when there will be an angel in the wings.'</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Lake Macquarie in NSW means a lot to you. Where would you take a newcomer to that area? Why?</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Lake Macquarie used to be a well-kept secret. It's tucked between the NSW Central Coast beaches, the Hunter Valley and Newcastle. I'm torn between wanting to keep it a secret and wanting to say, 'Look what is here! Beaches, suburbs full of trees, bush nearby which still has flannel flowers, native orchids and bowerbirds... and of course, the Lake...'</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">When Martin and I moved here from Sydney in 1983, we chanced upon a peninsula which had driveways meandering away from the main streets towards houses almost hidden behind trees beside the water. The house we live in now is on the ridge in the middle of that peninsula and it has views across Kilaben Bay to a large park. That park is where we walk most days, and it's where I'd take a newcomer. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Why? Because walking there will take you from a wide bay which has views across to the ocean, along a path through the old Rathmines Airforce Base and on to parkland of natural bush. There are glimpses there of so much that is special to Lake Macquarie: white sails on the water; children in the playground, swinging over the marked outline of a Catalina flying boat; people fishing, walking for health or with dogs; house boats and yachts moored at the jetties and in the shelter by the casuarinas; galahs and kookaburras and eastern rosellas nesting in the eucalypts and angophora; and across the water, the suburbs of houses, clustered on peninsulas... If you're lucky, just before sunset you might even see fish leaping, turning silver in the bright light. </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">What did growing up in southern Queensland give you?</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I should probably write a book to answer this. But just for starters, a love of big skies, space, solitude, and a fascination with the Australian countryside in all its extraordinary variety. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">By the time my parents settled in Toowoomba, just as I was about to start secondary school, I'd been to seven different schools and lived all over Queensland. We moved around a lot because my father was a bank manager, but also he was hospitalised with TB when I was six, so for over a year while he was there my mother and my brothers and I went to live with my grandparents on the Darling Downs.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">All through my childhood, the landscape around me kept changing. We went from the inland plains north to Georgetown near the Gulf of Carpentaria, a town I remember as a place of mango trees, snakes, crocodiles and flood... then from all that topic greenness down to the Queensland border with its tobacco farms and dust... then to the Darling Downs, the Lockyer Valley, Toowoomba. All these places were different. And I never had time to really settle in any of them, which is possibly why I'm still haunted by the question, 'Where is home?'</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Mostly, these were also small towns, with all the good and bad characteristics of closed communities. I learned very early to be happy with my own company. ABC Radio had a program for children, which included The Argonauts Club, which I loved. Every afternoon I'd rush into the house to listen to these voices from Somewhere Else, talking about Books and Art and Music and <i>The Muddleheaded Wombat. </i>The Club awarded certificates for stories and poems children sent in. I became Dragon's Tooth Aetna 19 and started sending things I'd written. That was the start, really, of the road to being a poet.</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">How was judging the Newcastle Poetry Prize in 2013?</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">It was a big job! There were about 650 entries and Dennis Haskell and I read every one of them. Fortunately, our tastes were fairly similar, so although we did a lot of emailing to discuss poems as we tried to reach a common short list, and then talked by phone at length to decide on the winners, there wasn't as much wrangling as there might have been. Judging is always exhausting though. Poetry invariably comes out of deep emotions and that makes reading so much of it in a short time disturbing. I worked out quite early in the judging that I could read a maximum of thirty in one day. To be fair to the poems, there was a lot of rereading needed as well. So it became really important to have plenty of time to spread out the process. The nice thing about the NPP is that you're also looking for poems for the anthology. In some ways, that was excruciating too because there were so many very fine ones that just missed out. This was a nice revelation, actually. Some years in the past I've entered and been very downcast when my poem hasn't made the anthology. I've naturally assumed my poem was no good! But now I realise how very competitive the prize is, and just how fine a line there can be between what makes it into the book and what just misses out. </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">What should Australian poets be doing more or less of?</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">My plea would be for more wide, generous reading, particularly of poets who have been prominent over the last century. There are wonderful new poets emerging who are very accomplished, but based on the bulk of the entries for the 2013 NPP, I'd guess that there are more people writing poetry than reading it. </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Where to from here?</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I'm a very slow writer and I always have a lot of work in progress. There are some unfinished prose works, a memoir and a garden journal style book. I just need another lifetime to finish them all. </span><br />
<br />Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-32256060749536009702016-05-23T18:27:00.002-07:002016-05-23T18:29:10.317-07:00LAUNCH<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The launch for <i>Morton</i> was a huge success. 80 people turned up. 55 copies of the chapbook were sold. I was humbled, overwhelmed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Huge thanks to John and Linsay Knight (my publishers at Pitt Street Poetry) for all their support, and to John Foulcher, who said the most generous things about <i>Morton </i>(I had a tear in my eye at one point!). I'd also like to thank my friend Andre de Borde for having the launch at the very beautiful Gallery Ecosse in downtown Exeter.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And of course, much love and light to my family, friends and Magdalene Catholic High School colleagues. You made it such a glorious afternoon.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">On another note, I'm reading at Rhizomic in Glebe tomorrow night. 7pm, Mr Falcon's. Michele Seminara and Anne Walsh are also on the bill with me. A very well-respected and well-known poet from Sydney will also be gracing us with his presence...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The next issue of CRUX will be appearing here very soon... Jean Kent is the featured poet... watch this space...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">LJ, May 24 2016.</span></span>Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-15438675653572801342016-03-07T15:16:00.001-08:002016-03-07T15:21:35.519-08:00MORTON'S LAUNCH<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I'm excited to announce that John Foulcher will be launching <i>Morton</i> on Saturday April 30.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Venue: Gallery Ecosse, Exeter, NSW.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Time: 3pm.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Sincere thanks to John for agreeing to launch my poems on Morton National Park. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Thanks also to Andre de Borde, owner of Ecosse, for holding the event at his beautiful art-space.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I do hope you can make it! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Lorne</span>Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-31851384326879205772015-12-14T16:49:00.002-08:002015-12-14T17:30:38.605-08:00REVERBERATIONS - ARIANE BEESTON <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Welcome to the first instalment of Reverberations, where Australian poetry aficionados respond to the Australian poetry that most moves and inspires them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In this edition we meet Sydney-based freelance writer Ariane Beeston. When I first hooked into the twittersphere in 2014, Ariane was one of the first people to follow me. I was constantly impressed by her tweets quoting Australian poetry and her enthusiastic engagement with other Australian poets. Knowing she was passionate about this country's lyricism, I approached her about opening Reverberations. In many ways, Ariane inspired me to begin this new phase of <i>The Ultraviolet Range</i>. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>I love what Ariane says here. I wholeheartedly thank her for her honesty.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>* </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In my last year of high school I studied the poetry of Gwen Harwood. She was the first Australian poet I fell madly in love with. As a seventeen year old, although I couldn't relate to a lot of her writings on motherhood, death and grief, I knew I was reading something special. And while I still have my clumsily annotated high school edition of her selected poems, the meaning I've found in her words, the colour and beauty, has only increased with time.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">and when I am seized at last</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">and rolled in one grinding race</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">of dreams, pain, memories, love and grief,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">from which no hand will save me,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">the peace of this day will shine</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">like light on the face of the waters</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">that bear me away forever.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">- At Mornington </span></i></span><br />
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It was motherhood that drew me back to Australian poetry for the first time since high school. I suffered a severe psychotic depression after my son was born and for a little while was completely unable to read. One of my doctors suggested I try reading poetry- perhaps smaller chunks of text would be easier for my brain to decipher.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Via twitter I discovered Felicity Plunkett and her book <i>Vanishing Point</i> (UQP). It was one of those wonderful times in life where the right book finds you at exactly the right moment. Her poems spoke to the increasingly painful feelings of identity, loss and transformation I'd been wrestling with for months while I was so unwell. They were like little lifeboats helping anchor me to motherhood and all the changes it brought.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I plaited my fingers around her throat</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">and released a song she would drown in.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I called her into my fresh fecundity</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">wanting to remember girlish breasts with pink nipples.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">At the edge of the room, out of the world's line of sight</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">we would smoulder quietly under the cover of maternity...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Later she would whisper to me of everything your birth</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">would silence,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">her pristine days and wild nights...</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">- Delivery</span></i></span><br />
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Earlier this year at the Queensland Poetry Festival, I discovered the lovely Melinda Smith. She read from her 2014 Prime Minister's Literary Award-winning collection <i>Drag Down to Unlock or Place an Emergency Call</i> (Pitt Street Poetry) and her poem <i>Given</i> had me gasping. I could have written the exact same words.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Then: eight months of the black dog.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I crawl back from cold hell</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">that no one understands</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">out of quietest, loneliest lands.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Now you seem newly-made,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">or is it me, new-born?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">With poems entitled <i>bitterweet, Don't worry e-happy </i>and<i> song of the anti-depressant</i>, Melinda's collection is also hysterically funny and witty.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I've lost count of the number of copies of Kathryn Lomer's <i>Night Writing</i> (UQP) I've given to friends and family. There's an exquisite lightness to it that makes it easy to read, even for those who don't normally read poetry. It's hopeful, insightful and multi-layered - full of poems about love, madness, parenting and grief.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The biggest stars, or the closest, ripple</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">silver lines across the bay.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">One falls, brief and burning, like a love affair, a life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">- Night</span></i></span><br />
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David Stavanger's <i>The Special</i> (UQP) has been another favourite. It's dark, weird and gritty, but playful at times, too. There's an edginess to his poetry that's unlike anything I've read.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's hard to let people in.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">How do they get back out?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">At the moment, it's David Brooks' work that I'm devouring - his beautifully erotic, dry and intelligent poems from <i>Open House</i> and <i>The Balcony</i>. And there are still so many of his earlier collections left to enjoy.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She is</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">writing a message</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">with her tongue on my neck</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">in a language I don't understand.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">- <i>The Balcony</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Ariane's writing has appeared in many publications including </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Daily Life, Essential Baby, Essential Kids, The Motherish </i>and <i>Role/Reboot</i>. She is not to be left unsupervised in a secondhand bookstore. You can find her on twitter - @ArianeBeeston </span></span><br />
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Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-14116762879089182022015-11-07T22:24:00.001-08:002015-11-07T23:01:19.876-08:00THE SOUTHERN HIGHLAND PLACES I LOVE<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Bonnie View area (Morton National Park, Bundanoon), Erith Coal Mine (Morton National Park, Bundanoon), Badgerys Lookout area (Morton National Park, Tallong), various paddocks between Wingello and Tallong, the dam near stock processing centre in Moss Vale, Gallery Ecosse (Exeter), Jumping Rock Cafe (Bundanoon), 2 Park Road The Corner Store (Bowral), Dirty Jane's Emporium (Bowral), Red Cow Farm (Sutton Forest), Burrawang Pub, Empire Cinemas (Bowral), Sturt Gallery (Mittagong), the top of Mt Gibraltar (Bowral), Cecil Hoskins Nature Reserve (between Moss Vale and Burradoo), The Bowral Bookstore, Stingray Swamp (Penrose), Wingecarribee Reservoir, rainforest between Fitzroy Falls and Barrengarry, Kangaloon Rd (between East Bowral and Robertson), Robertson Nature Reserve, Budderoo Plateau (at very edge of Highlands between Robertson and Jamberoo), Berkelouw's Book Barn (Berrima), Harper's Mansion (Berrima), Stones Patisserie (Berrima), Coffee Culture (Bowral), Seymour Park (Moss Vale), Fitzroy Falls, Carrington Falls, Belmore Falls, Banana Leaf (Bowral), the country behind Sutton Forest Inn, Golden Vale Road (Sutton Forest). LJ, November 2015. </span>Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-22621599641146900432015-10-08T19:02:00.001-07:002015-10-11T17:52:21.303-07:00CRUX #7 - PETER SKRZYNECKI <div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I have studied Peter Skrzynecki's poetry on numerous occasions throughout my career as an English teacher in Catholic secondary schools in NSW. I never tire of teaching his honest, ambiguous and almost mysterious work. My students (those who take English in their stride and strugglers) find his work rich and engaging. Much thought-provoking discussion follows a reading of one of Peter's poems; I've had students write their own poems in response to some of his. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="text-align: left;">Peter has many fans. The launch of his weighty collection </span><i>Old/New World</i>, in 2007, at Gleebooks' store in Glebe, Sydney, was one of the most well-attended poetry bashes I've been to. I remember Peter finished his reading with a line about breathing in and breathing out. Is there any greater poem? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; text-align: left;">Peter has
published twenty books of poetry and prose. He has won several
literary prizes including the Captain Cook Bicentenary Award, the Grace Leven
Poetry Prize and the Henry Lawson Short Story Award. In 1989 he was awarded the Order of Cultural
Merit by the Polish government, and in 2002 he received the Medal of the Order
of Australia (OAM) for his contribution to multicultural literature. IMMIGRANT
CHRONICLE, a book of poetry, was a set text for study on the New South Wales
HSC syllabus for many years. His memoir THE
SPARROW GARDEN was shortlisted for the National Biography Award. OLD/NEW WORLD: New
& Selected Poems was published by UQP in 2007. He is an adjunct
associate professor in the School of Humanities and Communication Arts at Western Sydney University. A new memoir,
APPOINTMENT NORTHWEST, of life in a
one-teacher school on the New England Tablelands in the 1960s was published by Five Senses in 2014. A book of
children’s poetry, THE RAINBOW BIRDS, will be published by Five Senses in 2015.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span><i><i>What was there before poetry? </i></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><i><br /></i></i>Maybe nothing, maybe everything. Who really knows? I prefer not to speculate. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /><i>Tell me about your childhood/teenage years.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i>They were <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>happy years; I had no brothers or sisters but
that never mattered. I had plenty of friends living in Mary Street, Regents
Park, and environs. The suburb was all bushland, paperbarks, gum trees and
prickly scrub. Our house overlooked a reserve and Duck Creek flowed through<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>it. Birdlife abounded. Lizards. Snakes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br />Best
of all I was with my parents. When we came to Australia my father worked in
Sydney for the Water Board for two years as a pick-and-shovel man while the
cost of transportation from Europe was repaid as a deduction from his
paypacket. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother and I lived in the
migrant hostel in Parkes (1949-51). That was the deal with the government.
After two years you had to leave. Buy a house somewhere or buy land and build.
There was the knowledge, though barely understood by me, that we had done well
by coming to Australia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were
fortunate. My parents were happy and if they were happy, so was I.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They worked very <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>hard and had the house paid off in four years.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /><i style="text-align: left;"><i>Share with me a story or two from Europe.</i></i><span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"> </span></span><o:p> </o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The
first memory is of snow. In my memoir THE SPARROW GARDEN (UQP,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>2004), there is a chapter called “Snow is
Falling”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother was a single mother
and after the war she was sent to a Displaced Persons camp in Lebenstedt where
she met Feliks Skrzynecki a farmer from Poland who had been in forced labor for
five years. They married and he<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>became
my adopting father. You could not have asked for a better father.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br />I am
kneeling on a chair and looking out at<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>drifting snow. It is falling gently, softly, so fine and powdery it is
like a mist. Directly
beneath the window is a wire enclosure with a low wooden structure , like a
dog’s kennel, subdivided and lined with straw. This is where my father keeps
rabbits. They are not being kept as pets. I am not allowed to play with them.
These rabbits are kept for their meat. They are bred, fattened and killed. Food
queues in the camp are long. People resort to other means to supplement their
diet. We can also sell the meat or trade it. I watch the rabbits . The snow
keeps falling, drifting.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br />The
second memory involves walking between railways carriages on the journey from
Germany to Italy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We sailed to Australia
from Naples. At one point, walking from one carriage to another I saw the
broken fuselage of a plane lying in a forest. The trees were filled with
dappled light and the broken plane, painted in camouflage colours, resembled a
butterfly. The light remains magical, unearthly, as if it appeared on purpose,
just to illuminate one small part of the tragedy of war.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /><i style="text-align: left;"><i>Why have you lived in Sydney for so long?</i></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></i>Sydney is home. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In FLAWS IN THE GLASS Patrick White says that
for better or worse Sydney is in<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>his
blood. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel like that; it is an
ambivalent feeling, with all the highrise <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>building that’s going on. The traffic, the
congestion. I sometimes wish I had settled in New England, perhaps Armidale. My
first small school was at Jeogla, 50 km east of Armidale. The central west
draws me also – probably because <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>our
first home in Australia was in Parkes, in the migrant hostel on its outskirts.
Now I have a home in Sydney, my wife is here, my children and grandchildren.
Having reached my three score years and ten, and with <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>health
issues arising in recent times, I have no desire to live elsewhere. I feel I
belong here.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /><i style="text-align: left;"><i>What are your feelings toward the much-loved and much-studied Immigrant Chronicle after all these years? </i></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></i>I am still very fond<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>of IMMIGRANT CHRONICLE and proud of what it
achieved. Originally it had a different title and Angus & Robertson turned
it down. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>About that time UQP was
starting its second Paperback Poets series (the coloured covers). Roger McDonald
was publisher and Tom Shapcott was the poetry editor. I sent the ms to them. From
memory, Tom <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and Roger did the selection.
Roger and I came up with the title. Roger said the word “immigrant” should be
in the title. I liked the word” chronicle”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I flew up to Brisbane for the meeting. In retrospect, it all came
together naturally, without any angst. Since 1975 it has never been out of
print and has gone into twenty-two reprints.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /><i style="text-align: left;"><i>Which period of your work are you most proud of?</i></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></i>Fair to say that I am proud of all periods
of my work – but maybe a little more of the early years which<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>were the hardest when it came to meeting
publishers and getting manuscripts accepted; but the need to write and express
myself was always there, urgent and unavoidable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Roland Robinson’s press, Lyrebird Writers
published my first two books.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Various
other publishers followed. UQP published four of my books and keeps them in
print. THE SPARROW GARDEN is coming out as an E-book.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /><i style="text-align: left;"><i>Describe your relationship with the natural world of NSW.</i></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></i>My relationship with the natural world is
one of respect and honour. Do it proud, as they say, in what I create out of
what it offers. Be it land, sea or sky.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br />Looking
back, the natural world of NSW made me a poet. My
eyes were opened up to what<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>beauty NSW/
Australia holds when we lived in Parkes for those first two years. I quote from
THE SPARROW GARDEN...”After a sea voyage of four weeks, Parkes meant open
spaces, paddocks, sheep, cattle, gum trees, magpies stalking the ground on
frosty mornings and throwing back their heads to sing, Parkes meant hot, dry
weather, a bushland that I loved walking through, picking at branches of scrub
wattle or encountering the scent of eucalypts for the first time....” </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br />Last
year I published APPOINTMENT NORTHWEST (Five Senses) a memoir of my days at Jeogla.
A very different landscape from<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the
central west but just as inspirational. As I was writing, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>it became apparent that this was not only a
narrative of my days in a small school but also a tribute to the high country
of New England with its mountains, rivers, waterfalls and wildlife. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The people, also.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /><i style="text-align: left;"><i>What does the future hold? </i></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></i>The future ? What <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>indeed ? Many years of good health and creativity,
I hope. I have a book of children’s poetry due before the end of the year, THE
RAINBOW BIRDS (Five Senses) that my son has illustrated . I<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>also have three more manuscripts in my head
and perhaps a last collection of poetry to round it all off.<br /> <br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">
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<!--StartFragment-->
<!--EndFragment-->Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-59148813042610125262015-09-10T16:05:00.000-07:002015-09-10T16:08:00.693-07:00LITTLE MOUNTAIN READINGS <span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I am honoured to be part of this year's Little Mountain Readings at Sturt Gallery, Mittagong on November 28 (5pm start). I'll be there with mate and fellow Bundanoon resident Peter Lach-Newinsky, who will also be presenting a workshop on writing poems (he'll be dynamic and inspiring, as always). I will be reading old work and fresh work from my debut collection <i>Morton</i> (forthcoming from PSP). Thanks to Rhiannon Hall, Sturt and South Coast Writers Centre for having me on board. It would be great to see you there. LJ, September 11 2015.</span>Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-31932588146428019862015-06-08T16:55:00.000-07:002015-06-08T19:21:57.622-07:00MORTON<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm thrilled to announce that my first chapbook, <i>Morton</i>, will be published in 2015 by Pitt Street Poetry. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The twelve poems in the illustrated pamphlet look at a wide range of Morton National Park's features. Morton, one of the grandest and most visited national parks in NSW, is minutes from my Southern Highlands home - it always looms largely in my mind.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">PSP are also releasing new things from Peter Goldsworthy, John Foulcher, Ron Pretty, Geoff Page and Mark Tredinnick. It is flattering to be among such acclaimed writers. </span><br />
<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></i>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Morton</i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> follows poetry I've had out in </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Australian Love Poems, Eclogues The Newcastle Poetry Prize Anthology 2007, </i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The Broadway Poetry Prize collection for 2004</span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">, The Southern Highlands Poetry Anthology, Meanjin, Island, Islet, Famous Reporter, Poetry d'Amour 2013, Mascara Literary Review, The Disappearing </i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(an</span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">app from Red Room Company)</span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">, Regime, Rabbit, Wet Ink, Memory Weaving, Great Ocean Quarterly, Make Your Mark, Cordite, Uneven Floor, Bimblebox 153 </i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">and</span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> For Rhino in a Shrinking World. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br />
LJ, June 9 2015. </span>Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-78432200780039282682015-06-01T20:01:00.000-07:002015-06-02T16:35:32.159-07:00CRUX #6 - STUART BARNES<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I've not met Rockhampton's Stuart Barnes (only communicated with him via emails and twitter). I'd very much like to. I think we'd have a good chat about poetry (surprise, surprise), layers to Australian masculinity and the evolution of pop and dance music both in Australia and abroad (topics we love). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br />
Stuart's highly engaging and refreshing poetic voice has both a beat sensibility and an academic feel - there's a looseness, or restlessness, as well as a great sense of purpose. The stuff of his work is snatched from pop culture, history, family, place... you name it. That's not to say it isn't original. Stuart's educational and entertaining poems get me researching, taking notes, telling myself I need to take more risks in my own writing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br />
Queensland's bloody lucky to have him! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br />
Stuart is a Tasmanian-born poet and poetry editor of <i>Tincture Journal.</i> In 2014 his manuscript <i>Blacking Out and other poems</i> was named runner up in the Arts Queensland Thomas Shapcott Poetry Prize. His first collection, <i>Bend River Mountain</i>, an anthology with Robbie Coburn, Nathan Hondros, Rose Hunter, Carly-Jay Metcalfe and Michele Seminara, will be published by Regime Books in 2015. He blogs at stuartabarnes.wordpress.com and tweets as @StuartABarnes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">1. What was there before poetry?</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br />
The
consciousness of and fascination with poetry has always existed; the reading of
and the tinkering with since childhood; the detailed re/arranging of for seven
years.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">2. Share with me a story or memory from
your formative years.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></span>
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Winter,
a glass-door wood heater, my grand/parents and me, recliners, books.</span></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">3. How do friends and family help shape
your writing?</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">From
the beginning, and without knowing, my parents have helped shape my writing: my
mother gave me picture books in my bassinet (the only distraction the rustling
leaves of a nearby almond tree, apparently), a vinyl book at bath time and,
when I was a little older, the How and Why Wonder Books, the Bible, a
dictionary, an encyclopaedia; both read to me at bedtime. I’m not the first to
say it: the key is reading, reading, reading. I’m grateful my parents <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">insisted</i> on it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, Gwen
Harwood was an inspiration, instrumental in my becoming a poet. At middle and
high school I was fortunate to know a small group of passionate young men whose
interests included architecture, film and music; one also wrote: he and I came
equal second in what I think was our school’s inaugural short story
competition. I was outraged: his was about catching rainbow trout, mine a man
dying of AIDS. I still have that story, which borrowed heavily from The Cure’s
‘Pictures of You’ and Auden’s ‘Funeral Blues’. Maybe that’s the origin of my
interest in found poetry … My high school Literature teacher Amanda Jackson and
English teacher Liz McQuilkin, also a poet, were very encouraging, as was
Deborah Rechter, my first year Literature tutor at Monash University. That kind
of support was/is wonderful, but it’s vital to nourish it. For many years I
couldn’t/didn’t. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Friends and family continue to help
by reading and commenting on drafts and manuscripts, by connecting me with
other poets (a couple of months ago a family friend’s brother put me in touch
with Welsh poet Ric Hool, who generously provided invaluable feedback about a
manuscript). Most recently they’ve been helping by inspiring: I’ve been working
on poems about moments from childhood, poems written to the memory of my
maternal grandmother, my favourite uncle, three friends. It has taken some time
to be able to write about these much-loved people. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Many years ago, to members of my
extended family, uncles and male cousins mostly, writing was ‘a waste of time’,
‘a joke’, I a ‘freak’, ‘weirdo’, ‘faggot’, ‘big girl’, ‘wuss’. I wasn’t
impervious to their bullying; I’ve always been determined; their aggression
made me even more, I think. For a time I wrote for and with a strong sense of
having to prove something to others. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">4. What’s the most difficult thing about
writing a poem?</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Learning
to let go of expectation, which aids determining one’s method: for some time I
was heavily influenced by part of Ted Hughes’ introduction to Sylvia Plath’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Collected Poems</i>: ‘To my knowledge, she
never scrapped any of her poetic efforts. With one or two exceptions, she
brought every piece she worked on to some final form acceptable to her … Her
attitude to her verse was artisan-like: if she couldn’t get a table out of the
material, she was quite happy to get a chair, or even a toy.’ I first read this
at 30 and placed on myself enormous pressures. Exhausting, yet necessary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Once you’ve determined your method,
which is always evolving, learning to accept when a poem’s not working.
Learning to put it away—for a day, several, a week, half a year, seven. And
learning—<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gasp</i>—when to let a poem go,
which might one day lead to a conversation about learning to let <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everything</i>—it’s all illusory—go. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Finally, learning there are no
rules. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">5. How do people react to you being a
poet? </span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Melbourne’s
worlds away; there I was a very different person, a very different poet, so
I’ll talk about my experience of Rockhampton, famous for its cattle farmers,
FIFO workers and bewildered tourists. I love living in Rockhampton—the freedom,
the proximity to the sea, the glorious, golden 4 p.m. light—but it is a bit of
a crucible. The farmers I’ve met have been nothing but blunt: ‘All day all you
do’s twiddle your thumbs, chew the end of a pen’: zero tolerance. The FIFO
workers have been baffled (‘You make <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">how</i>
little money, mate?’) yet respectful (‘Least you’re doing something you
love.’). The tourists, most from Europe, have been pretty interested. A
drawn-out ‘Oh’, often followed by ‘That won’t pay the bills’, is the most
common response from some of the people who work in the local supermarket. The
chap who runs the nearby post office is probably my biggest fan: ‘Are you a
famous poet yet?’ every time I go in. ‘No, just here to mail a book to a famous
poet.’ ‘Roses are red, violets are blue’ was never funny or clever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">6. You have a great love for British band
The Cure. Share with me your favourite Cure lyric and explain its power.</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br />
I’ve admired The Cure since 1992: ‘Friday I’m In Love’ shimmied
from a speaker during <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">American Top 40</i>
one Sunday evening (these days I can’t listen to the track, which swamped every
restaurant, café and club <span class="js-headword">à la </span>‘Glory Box’ and
‘Groove Is In The Heart’). ABC’s rage introduced the band to me in 1990; I vividly
remember the ‘Never Enough’ promo: I was intrigued and spooked by Robert
Smith’s bizarre and beautiful harmonies, his swooping guitar-like vocals, his alter
ego’s black eye shadow and black lipstick (within a few years I was
occasionally armouring myself with both). In mid-’92 I travelled to and through
Russia with a bunch of Australian scouts, venturers, rovers and leaders; I bonded
with T, a huge fan of The Cure who faithfully toted every album to date on
cassette. By the time I arrived in Hobart a little over a month later I was
smitten, bitten, hooked, cooked, stuck like glue …</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It’s not my favourite lyric (that
might be ‘Fires outside in the sky / Look as perfect as cats’, for its
absurdity; or ‘So I trick myself / Like everybody else’, a bit of a bowling
ball in the stomach; or ‘Oh I miss the kiss of treachery / The shameless kiss
of vanity’, for its guilelessness about desire and long-term monogamous
relationships) but ‘I went away alone with nothing left but faith’ (‘Faith’, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Faith</i>) is the most persistent, the most insistent,
and powerful for two reasons: it flays religion and embraces the spiritual. It</span> closes an exquisite record: heavily layered synthesizers, atmospheric six-string basses, songs perfectly sequenced. Faith was written in church, where Robert Smith would ‘think about death … look at the people … [who] wanted “eternity”. … [He] realised [he] had no faith at all and [he] was scared. … [He] wanted to get at different expressions of faith, to understand why people have it, to see if it was a real thing’ (Ten Imaginary Years). As writing Faith spurred Smith to think about his lack of faith, so listening to this particular lyric spurred me to think about mine.</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">7. What’s your greatest writing
accomplishment?</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">It’s
not that I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">won’t</i>—I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">can’t</i>, I’m not hardwired to think of my
accomplishments in terms of greatness. Three that come to mind have been
incredibly encouraging: my first published poem; shortlisted twice for the
Newcastle Poetry Prize; my manuscript <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Blacking
Out and other poems</i> named runner up in the 2014 Arts Queensland Thomas
Shapcott Poetry Prize. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">8. If you had an hour with one Australian
poet - living or dead - who would it be?</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Dorothy
Porter: I would love to talk about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Akhenaten</i>.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">9. Where will the future take you?</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">My
first poetry collection, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bend River
Mountain</i>, an anthology with Robbie Coburn, Nathan Hondros, Rose Hunter,
Carly-Jay Metcalfe and Michele Seminara, will be published by Regime Books in
2015. I’m taking my time with another project. I’m looking forward to this
year’s Queensland Poetry Festival. Really, I’ll be happy if I can continue to
do what I love: write, edit, read. </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-42926398632965758742015-03-22T15:28:00.001-07:002015-06-01T20:55:36.103-07:00CRUX #5 - BENJAMIN DODDS<div class="" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">The work of Benjamin Dodds never pulls punches. If late firebrand and painter Adam Cullen had been a poet, he may well have been Benjamin Dodds. Both artists love throwing the filth and beauty of life in our faces. When reading Benjamin's poetry we feel wonderment and edginess in equal measure. Everywhere the reader looks there is dark humour, poignancy and stark imagery. Benjamin is often interested in unravelling the many contradictions within Australian men, something I find fascinating. And of course, there is a search for the divine, or at least something than can lift us from the mundane. Like his contemporaries Sam Wagan Watson and Aidan Coleman, Ben is fiercely economic with his language - this is why I love his work. Many verbose poets could learn from his editorial skill.</span><br />
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<span class="">Benjamin resides in Sydney, where he teaches primary school students. He grew up in the NSW Riverina. His work has appeared in many publications including <i>The Best Australian Poems 2014, Mascara Literary Review, Bluepepper, Harvest, Cordite, Blue Dog, Southerly and Antipodes: Poetic Responses </i>and<i> Earthly Matters</i>, a chapbook poet Carol Jenkins assembled for National Science Week in 2010. His first full-length collection, <i>Regulator</i>, is out now with Puncher & Wattmann. </span></span><br />
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<span class="" style="font-size: large;"><i>What was there before poetry?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Nothing. Poetry was there in the movement of the first motes of matter and we’ve been tracing its path ever since we learned to make our mark on cave walls, paper and now in digital zeroes and ones.</span></div>
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<span class="" style="font-size: large;"><i>Would you ever return to the NSW Riverina to live?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">An entire universe of childhood and adolescence is back there somewhere between the yellow lawns and weedy irrigation canals. My immediate family left the Riverina at the same time I moved to Sydney to study. I travel back every few Christmases with my parents to visit relatives, but I don’t think I’ll ever live there again. It feels too much like the past for me to plan any futures there. I must miss it on some level, though. I saw a photo of a Murrumbidgee River beach recently on Instagram and experienced a surprisingly intense longing to be there again and to dive in.</span></div>
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<span class="" style="font-size: large;"><i>Tell me about your work with the NSW Department of Agriculture years ago.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was my first job straight out of high school. There’s an agricultural research station just outside Yanco and they were offering a traineeship as a laboratory technician. I met some amazing individuals and took part in some fascinating science over what became three years. The majority of my time there was spent in the rice section, but I also moved through the soy and entomology sections and eventually became a fruit fly officer. The work was a really interesting mix of white lab coat and test tube stuff and a great deal of sampling and harvesting on trial sites all around the Riverina. I got to be Igor on some days and Old MacDonald on others. One of the weirder memories of my lab assistant days is of being trained to count the microscopic hairs around a fruit fly’s anus to determine its species. It was a bizarre, but important job. The day I counted one too many hairs (or was it one too few?) resulted in an emergency road trip to the head office in Orange to confirm and declare an official outbreak of European fruit fly. Exciting times!</span></div>
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<span class="" style="font-size: large;"><i>Why did you get into primary school teaching?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well, I became a primary teacher by way of first becoming a secondary teacher. My two teaching areas are English and Italian. I taught in a high school setting for a while and didn’t really fall in love with the job. I travelled and worked outside education for a bit and only returned to it when I saw an advertisement for an Italian teaching position at a local primary school. After teaching Italian for a few years, I was lucky enough to be given the opportunity to work as a regular class teacher. I’ve since been reaccredited as a primary teacher and it’s fantastic. I think teaching is a particularly vital profession. Who else in society, aside from parents, can have such a positive and lasting effect on young minds?</span></div>
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<span class="" style="font-size: large;"><i>Were there many challenges associated with penning/assembling Regulator?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, there were quite a few. Not so much with its penning, but certainly with its assembling. Because some of the pieces had been around for so long, I was very close to them. I couldn’t really get a true sense of which ones played well with others. Not through a new reader’s eyes in any case. I tried different permutations with my partner, a close friend and then fellow poet Stuart Barnes. They were all very insightful, particularly my mate Stuart, who was essentially the unofficial editor of the whole collection. In the end, I went with a bit of my own judgment and a bit of theirs and divided the book into four sections: <i class="">Regulator</i>, <i class="">Human Awe</i>,<i class="">There’s No Putting Them Out</i> and <i class="">Perfectly Normal Sons</i>. The first loosely gathers together the poems dealing with the Riverina, the second brings together (also loosely) the pieces dealing with science and nature, the third contains poems that I began to realise were a bit on the darkly paranoid side and the fourth section touches on sexuality.</span></div>
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<span class="" style="font-size: large;"><i>What does it mean to be a poet in Australia today?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">What a tough question. There are so many types of Australian poets and poetry. Sometimes it seems that the job of the Australian poet is to wilfully alienate, but then there are so many more instances of Australian poets perfectly capturing a moment, an idea, a feeling or an angle through clear, exquisite and enduring language. This is not uniquely Australian, of course, but our poets can really hook us in ways that are specifically adapted to our particular wavelength of experience. Our best poets know who we are, for better or worse, but aren’t limited by identity.</span></div>
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<span class="" style="font-size: large;"><i>What do you want your audience to most take away from your poetry?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Another really tough question! I know that I hold myself to a very high standard when I write a poem. I guess this means I want the reader to experience the best of me, work I’ve sweated over. Ultimately, I hope they take from my poetry a sense of mood and encapsulation. Somebody once told me that one of my poems expressed something that they’d always felt, but never known how to put into words. I don’t think a poet could ask for a better review.</span></div>
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<span class="" style="font-size: large;"><i>Where to from here?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I’m working on a new project at the moment. Mostly in my head, not yet on the page, but its various parts are starting to swirl together and coalesce into what I hope it can be. I find it really hard to find solid chunks of writing time lately. Not because I’m too busy, but because modern technology seems to sap my creative energy and swell to take up so much of my ‘spare’ time. Sometimes I curse the internet, Netflix, my iPad and the infinite amount of other distractions available to us today. Maybe that’s where to from here, weaning myself off distractions and using the freed up time to write more! I’ve got a week away planned for the next school break. Just myself and my writing away from it all.</span></div>
Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-87824706306466499552015-01-22T20:32:00.001-08:002015-06-01T20:56:11.626-07:00CRUX #4 - FELICITY PLUNKETT <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I've met Felicity Plunkett once. It was in 2011, when I was attending an Extension 2 English day for HSC Students at Beverly Hills Girls High School in Sydney. Felicity was conducting a workshop for Yr 12 poets, including a girl I was teaching. On behalf of my student, I asked Felicity some questions on how best to approach aspects of the rigorous Extension 2 course. Felicity was generous with her time and her answers were insightful. I contacted Felicity not long after this and questioned her about avenues to explore as an emerging poet. She read some of my online work. Again, Felicity was supportive. She strikes me as a woman who is wise, professional and utterly selfless. Australia's poets are most fortunate to have her as a mentor, role model and critic. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Felicity has a PhD in Literature from the University of Sydney. She is poetry editor with University of Queensland Press. Her rich, wide-ranging and inventive debut poetry collection, <i>Vanishing Point</i>, won the Thomas Shapcott Prize. A later, engaging collection, <i>Seastrands</i>, was published as part of Vagabond Press' Rare Object Series. She was editor of <i>Thirty Australian Poets</i>. Felicity has worked with Red Room Company on many projects. Felicity currently lives in Sydney.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This question feels a little like ‘What was there before light?’ and has been waiting, unanswered, like a chicken-and-egg conundrum, for me to respond to. I remember always gravitating towards poetry, but when I began to discover poets during high school, at first through studying Latin (Catullus, then Virgil) I knew that this was important. Poetry started taking up, delightfully, a lot of space in my head. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i>What are you first - poet, critic or editor? </i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I don’t know how successfully I can disentangle the strands, since, broadly, reading and writing go hand-in-hand for me. I love an evocation of this by American writer Kevin Brockmeier in an interview in <i>The Georgia Review</i>. He argues for stoking your life and your writing with ‘books you find beautiful, enriching, fascinating, meaningful, fathomless, enchanting, or unextinguishable.’ It’s an ordered process, he suggests: ‘You let your reading fill your life and you let your life fill your writing.’ </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">During my years as an academic, I was appointed to the Exam Committee for HSC English Extension 1 in NSW and subsequently took over the loftily-titled role of Chief Examiner of Extension 1 and English Extension 2 from 2004-2009. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This involved chairing the exam committee, working with wonderful, creative teachers to develop the Extension 1 exam paper, and spending time in the exam centres for both subjects, working with the Supervisor of Marking and markers. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I believe that each course is exemplary, and especially that having the opportunity to create an independent Major Work in English – whether poetic, fictional, performance, film or critical – is a brilliant opportunity for students. Every year I witness – and these days have some involvement in enabling – lucid, unique work produced by the 2000+ students who take this course. In 2014 I was especially blown away by work I encountered that was well beyond some work I see from tertiary students, and, in the case of some of the poetry and fiction, as good as some professional work I read as an editor. I have great respect for these students, and the teachers who enable them. It’s an energy-testing course, but one that opens a lot of mind-windows. Something I look forward to greatly is the further unfolding of some of these students’ talent. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’m not sure about pride, but probably the most transformative achievement was winning the Arts Queensland Thomas Shapcott Prize for <i>Vanishing Point</i>, which involved publication with University of Queensland Press. I feel honoured (and, yes, proud) to be part of the group of poets who have won this prize, including Nathan Shepherdson, Sarah Holland-Batt, David Stavanger and most recently, Krissy Kneen. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Perhaps it helps to think beyond averages and the human cladding that signals our differences, to remember that poetry has the capacity to be, as Robert Frost puts it ‘a fresh look and a fresh listen’. Poetry can reach a person and venture everywhere. Or as Yevgeny Yevtushenko writes: ‘Poetry is like a bird, it ignores all frontiers’. Each can go anywhere, but I’m not sure that you can <i>make</i> poetry, or a bird, do this. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I love to cultivate this possibility. I’ve spent hours, sometimes over coffee, with poets and their words. Possibly the two I’ve spent the most hours with are Sylvia Plath and Paul Celan. Plath was a wonderful cook, too. A slice of her lemon meringue pie would be good. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">In poetry, at the end of this summer I will be sending my new manuscript to a publisher for consideration. As an editor, I am at work on a number of highly-anticipated books by other writers. As a critic and reviewer I have a fascinating pile of books to respond to. Before this, a few days near the sea with my children. These parts of my plan, are, of course, subject to larger forces, of which poetry is one, but not the only one. </span>Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-55939999833249412862014-12-22T18:32:00.003-08:002015-07-10T04:26:38.391-07:00CRUX #3 - PETER LACH-NEWINSKY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When I first moved to the Southern Highlands of NSW in 2009, celebrated poet Jennifer Compton (who I'd met through the Broadway Poetry Prize 2004; she was a judge, I was a runner-up) suggested I look up Peter Lach-Newinsky, who was living in Bundanoon. Jennifer had lived in Wingello in the Southern Highlands and knew Peter. I followed Jennifer's advice - Peter and I hooked up for tea in the Primula Cafe, Bundanoon. Since then, Peter and I have been good friends. I've searched - without success - for Little Bitterns on his twenty acre property, tasted many types of his heritage apples, discussed all things poetry with him and laughed a lot. Peter has provided me with perspective when the slings and arrows of poetic success have battered me. Peter is many things: husband, father, grandfather, farmer, naturalist, activist, thinker, eccentric, comic, rebel. To be with Peter is to be with a man who is fully aware of the world around him, thrilled to be fully alive. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Peter has published several chapbooks with Picaro Press. He has won the Vera Newsom Poetry Prize and the Melbourne Poets Union International Poetry Prize (2009 and 2010). His latest full-length collection,<i> Cut a Long Story Short</i>, was recently put out by Puncher & Wattman in Sydney. Peter's reading at the launch for <i>Cut...</i> was electric. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Peter was born in Germany and came to Australia with his German mother and Russian father. </span></div>
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<i style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What was there before poetry?</span></i></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Before poetry there was the poetry of the Void then the poetry of the Big Bang then a lot of noise/silence as the universe revved up. Then poetry again. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Tell me about your earlier life in Germany.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Well Germany is great technology so they’ve got Autobahns everywhere that allow you to experience the pleasure of having a Mercedes sitting on your tail bumper at 180 ks and a semi-trailer right in front of you while the car radio comes on automatically to tell you where the 30k-long</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">traffic jams are so that everyone can try and avoid them and thus create another traffic jam. Deep in German woods I still heard traffic noise from freeways. There’s postcard Germany and there’s depressing Germany, like everywhere else. The people are different and the same. They also had a radical youth and student movement in the 60s and 70s which I found was where the energy was, where it was at, at the time. I was in my 20s and 30s, so I was into energy. I kept reading English, writing English poems for myself, teaching English in English in order to keep the English neurons connecting inside a German head. They do great philosophy in Germany. They also invented Aldi. News broadsheets didn’t have personal stories or photos but only solid print: people tend to be more serious. Here, I sometimes miss that, although humour is essential in remaining sane.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Describe your writing process.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Um, lotsa ways. Maybe early morning pen on paper, maybe editing old poems on computer, maybe none of the above. Anything can trigger this weird activity. I have no set routine or methods, except I usually come inside when it’s too hot to work outside on the farm and sit at the computer and write away for a few hours at something or other (poems, essays, blogs).</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I have books strewn all over the place which I’m using or intended to or intend to, dog-eared, marked, awaiting processing/quoting... Often I’m working on several things at once, or just drop them for long periods or never finish them. Sometimes I can’t stand reading poetry (like eating cake all the time), prefer prose, novels, non-fiction, science.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What has kept you in Bundanoon for so many years? </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The farm. The commitment to place and growing roots there. Maintaining the trees I have planted. Why would I go elsewhere? I no longer need to find paid work. I’ve had to move too much in my life. There’s a spiritual and ecological limit to modern nomadics. Moving, you just take your boring old self along again anyway. Although even just travelling can be nice, it is much overrated. Like most places, Bundanoon is a very special place. Suburbanisation, aka development, is the usual danger.</span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">What </span>troubles you? </span></i></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The survival of civilisation, humanity, great sections of our plant and animal cousins, a livable planet. The continuation of capitalism, imperialism, nationalism and mainstream majority obedience and voluntary slavery. The survival of books, solitude, concentrated reading and knowledge in the deep sense in a world of totalised screens, info overload and so-called social media.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What brings you great happiness? </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The farm and all its beings, trees, some animals, the ocean, books of all kinds, some music, some art, a few poems, some writing, most little kids but especially my two grandsons.</span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Which of your chapbooks are you </span>most proud of? </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Chapbooks or books? Pride? Can’t say I favour one over the other. Has to be equality in a family, no favouritism. Each book a product of its time and state of mind. Out of my hands once published. Not mine anymore. Becomes a bit of the collective mind, well that is if</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">there’s at least one reader.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Cut A Long Story Short - give me the big picture. </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">This last book is subtitled</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">‘ A myth in 80 poems and four seasons’. Maybe that’s the gist of ‘the big picture’. Kind of a structured ‘memoir’, also containing some poems I wrote in my 20s, 30s and 40s, so kind of a New & Selected in some ways. It attempts a reading of the personal/autobiographical (as poetic myth of course, not ‘truth’) against the public/political of the last 60 years, as I don’t think the two can really be separated. It also references a lot of other favourite poets because we all write ‘intertext’ whether we know it or not, standing on the shoulders of many others.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What will tomorrow bring? </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Rain, drought. Noise, silence. Life, death. The usual. The unexpected. Change. The illusion of time passing. </span></span></div>
Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-22931312097518183902014-11-16T19:41:00.000-08:002015-06-01T20:59:25.054-07:00CRUX #2 - JOHN FOULCHER<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTw6mXg6YU9e3q-VLc_WhWc-GSvIOC_vVVJnLOjNS0ZVokkz-HklUuOKrvG-a0x5iuLp1d5WXP6SOXn-jCyJptq4NMA3tlFt1kX-vxH0_q8UW2bpHt3GiJvhRi4YPhGps5IY_Tnee5-JKL/s1600/J+and+J+in+Paris+2014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTw6mXg6YU9e3q-VLc_WhWc-GSvIOC_vVVJnLOjNS0ZVokkz-HklUuOKrvG-a0x5iuLp1d5WXP6SOXn-jCyJptq4NMA3tlFt1kX-vxH0_q8UW2bpHt3GiJvhRi4YPhGps5IY_Tnee5-JKL/s1600/J+and+J+in+Paris+2014.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">How do I introduce John Foulcher? He is an icon, a luminary. So many Australians have devoured his work, hungered for more. My words here won't do him justice! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I first read John's lyricism in the early 1990s. It made an indelible impression. I return to John's poems when I want to find serenity in my day. I also open his work up when my own writing seems rudderless, hollow, inadequate. John's writing is economic, crisp, honest, open to interpretation and deeply evocative. There is nothing sentimental or preachy there. When we digest a Foulcher poem, we immerse ourselves in so many wonderful things, find ourselves transported entirely. He understands the Australian people, he understands Australian landscape. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">John's poetry has been widely published and anthologised; he has published nine collections. From 1986 to 1994 several of his poems were set for study on the NSW HSC Syllabus. John has been granted four Australian Council Residencies, the most recent at the Keesing Studio in Paris during 2010-2011. He has a brand new poem in <i>The Best Australian Poems 2014</i> through Black Inc. John has taught English to many students in Victoria, the ACT and NSW. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> *</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Before writing poetry,
what were you doing to make sense of the world?</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That’s a difficult question. I wrote my first poem when I was about
sixteen. Before that, the world didn’t make much sense at all; everything
seemed like wind, and I had no control over anything. Poetry was like riding
the wind – that sounds melodramatic but it was like that, initially. I suppose
I looked to religion as well, or, more precisely, the story of Jesus. All that
unendurable suffering at the heart of the story resonated with me, I think. I’ve
always had a religious sense of life, though I’ve remained on the margins of
conventional Christianity, occasionally falling off the edge. I’m not sure
poetry has helped me make sense of the world – more exactly, it’s made the
ambiguities of the world more bearable. Turn anything into art and it becomes
more bearable</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What have you learnt
about yourself and teenagers after many years teaching English in high schools?<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I’ve learned we never really grow up, that the tempestuous concerns of
teenagers are all our concerns. Familiarity, though, makes them easier to
negotiate. I’ve learned that young people help you in seeing the world in
fresh, invigorating terms. I’ve also learned that I never want to be eighteen
again. Why would you go back there?</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>People are divided on
their opinion of Canberra, where you now live. Why do you think that is?</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When I first moved to Canberra from Sydney, many of my Sydney friends
were, well, a little bewildered, I think. ‘Why would you want to do that?’ one
asked me. ‘It’s the world’s largest lawn cemetery.’ I think there’s a kind of cultural
cringe in that sort of response – ‘oh Canberra’s so boring’, that sort of
thing, as if life only occurs in the freneticism of big cities. I hate the way
people sneer at Canberra because it’s ‘sterile’. Interesting that many overseas
visitors, many the ones without the agendas of youth, like Canberra. It’s a
soft focus city, it has a calm. I think it also suffers from the conflation of
government and place. I’m happy in a way, though, when people deride Canberra,
and often agree with them – it keeps them away. Canberra, in a sense, is one of
Australia’s best kept secrets. I like it that way.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>You often return to the
Snowy Mountains in your poetry. Is it the landscape in Australia that most
impresses you?</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">That was a seminal landscape for me. I first walked the Snowy Mountains
at a time in my life which was pretty difficult and it took me out of myself,
my anxieties. Somehow, I think, the Snowy mirrored the barrenness I was feeling
at the time, but it also showed me that the barren could be beautiful,
breathtaking. It’s my soul country, and the contours of the soul are often
pretty harsh.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>In 2010 you had a
rewarding residency in Paris. Could you live there?</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Definitely. You never have only one soul place, and Paris feeds another
part of my inner life. I love its sense of the past, and it has a spiritual
underbelly I didn’t expect to find there. When we lived there, most evenings my
wife Jane and I would go to vespers at a church called St Gervais-St Protais,
in the fourth arrondisement. There’s a working community of nuns and monks
there, and I’ve never experienced the depth of spiritual experience that I did
during those chanted silences at St Gervais. I’ve come to think that all church
services should be conducted in a language the congregation doesn’t understand.
As soon as you understand, some fool will take it literally. The churches - that’s
one great thing about Paris, though there are many others. Having said that, I
found I missed space, the sky, expanses. I think I’d like to live in Paris for
six months every year. The rest of the time, somewhere with a big sky.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>What has kept you
writing poetry since you were a teenager?</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">All sorts of things, I suppose. The less admirable reasons include
insecurity, ego. But there’s more to it than that – yes, I suppose poetry does
help me make sense of things, and there’s nothing so exciting as the feeling
that you’ve created something genuinely good, or as good as you can get it
anyway. The urge to create is one of the most powerful and fulfilling instincts
we have, whether it’s poetry, a garden or making a kitchen. Poetry’s no
different from all other creative endeavours – and, let’s face it, almost
everything can be creative. I hate this ‘shaman’ concept of the poet – I think
it’s nonsense, this idea that the poet is somehow a special being. A poet
builds with words; a carpenter builds with wood. Each to his own.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Tell me about your
relationship with John Knight and Pitt Street Poetry.</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">John and I have been friends since we co-led the Drama group on
Scripture Union Arts Camp in 1973 – sounds bizarre, doesn’t it? We actually ran
a magazine together in the mid-70’s about poetry and religious experience (a
lucrative market!) called ‘The Eye’s Habit’. That was fun. I recall doing
interviews with Les Murray and Robert Gray for that magazine, and both of those
poets have remained lifelong friends. John and I went our separate ways soon
after that – he to medicine, me to the classroom. But we remained friends, and,
years and years later when John told me he wanted to go into publishing, I knew
he would do a fine job of it. He’s a man of prodigious talent. When he asked me
if he could publish my book, ‘The Sunset Assumption’, as his first book, I had
no hesitation at all in agreeing. I knew John, and I knew I would be on a winner.
Still, I expected Pitt Street Poetry to take years to get to the place it’s in
now. Right now, I feel, it’s mounting a challenge to be the best poetry
publisher in the country. Quite some feat in such a short time. John and Linsay
are the best editors I’ve ever had. Without question.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>What do you want your
writing future to hold?</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As I enter my sixties,
I hope I can write with less attachment. I’ve always been subject to other
people’s opinions, I think, far too much. In the past, I’ve needed the approval
of others as justification to write. I don’t have that so much any more. I
write because I can’t imagine life without it, and as long as I can look at my
books and say, ‘That was the best I could do at that stage in my life’, then to
hell what people think of it. I hold no illusions about my work, and couldn’t
care less about ‘posterity’. It’s for now, here. As my friend the poet Steve
Kelen once said to me: ‘Why write? Well, why breathe?’</span></div>
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<!--EndFragment-->Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-672358788167662538.post-63391992420350415742014-11-02T16:23:00.000-08:002015-06-01T20:56:57.963-07:00CRUX #1 - FIONA WRIGHT<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: large;">Welcome to <i>Crux - Interviews with Australian Poets</i>. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;">In this first edition we meet Sydney's Fiona Wright. Fiona's multi-faceted work captivated me the moment I found it in Gleebooks. Her poems are witty, pithy and poignant. At the south-west Sydney high school where I teach, I recently set several of Fiona's poems for Yr 11 Standard English to study. The students found her poetry accessible and honest, and were most fortunate to have Fiona visit them. </span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;">Fiona's work has been published in various journals and anthologies both here and overseas including Black Inc's <i>Best Australian Poems 2008, 2009, 2010, Overland, Heat, Australian Literary Review </i>and<i> Going Down Swinging. </i>She was runner-up in the 2008 John Marsden Young Writer's Award. She received the Dame Mary Gilmore Poetry Award in 2012 for her debut collection <i>Knuckled. </i></span></span></span><br />
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<i style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: large;">What was there before poetry?</span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: large;"><br />For me, not a lot. I started writing poetry in earnest in my last year of high school, although I realised later on that I had been writing things that I didn't know were poems, of a kind, at least, for years before that. I kept it up through university, and started getting my first publications too, which was a blessing, really, because I was studying media with an eye to becoming a journalist (because what else do you do with good marks and an aptitude for English?) and realising very quickly that it probably wasn't the field for me. Instead, I started working on student lit-mags, and interning with a few arts organisations and I met people who were making a viable living as writers or editors or arts workers - a thing I'd never thought possible before - and so I set out to do so myself. Which has essentially been making it up as I go along, but I love what I do and I know how lucky I am to be able to say that.<br /><br /><i>How did poetry captivate you?</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><i><br /></i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;">I hadn't read much poetry when I started writing, but I quickly found a few books that I really loved - the fierce and sexy Dorothy Porter; a feisty Russian poet, Yevgeny Yevtushenko - and that was it, really. There's an intensity to both of those poets - personal and political - that was really important to me at the time. I was a very intense teenager - I'd like to say that I've outgrown that, but I'm not sure that I ever did - and it was a rare occurrence for me to find that intensity matched. But I also found poetry a really playful form, or a form with a lot of room for humour and surprise, I'm still having a lot of fun with those things.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: large;">I've also always liked the way poetry so often resists the kind of closure you find in fiction, the way it's ok, or even better most times, to leave things unexplained and unresolved, the way so many things in our lives are. It's ambiguous and puzzling and contradictory, like people are; and that can be fascinating and incredibly potent too.<br /><i><br />Describe your writing process.</i><br /><br />I'm a scribbler. I'm always carrying around notebooks in my handbag, because I've found that I write a lot in my head when I'm walking, or waiting, out in the world. And during those strange times before falling asleep or waking fully. I always draft poems by hand and edit on computer, although it's the opposite when I'm writing prose. I've developed a really lovely habit over the past few years of writing mostly in the mornings, in a cafe, for a good two-hour block, as many mornings per week as possible. I find working in a public space really helps me focus (or that could be the coffee), and it's also great for eavesdropping and people-watching, which are two of my favourite things to do. And then the afternoons are for editing, reading, and planning. Some poems don't need much editing, others have to kick about for months, and be pushed through any number of different variations and permutations before they find their final form.</span></div>
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<span style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: large;"><i>What did you most hope to achieve with your debut collection Knuckled?</i><br /><br />The flippant answer to that is that I most hoped to have a book! I think most first collections aren't put together with a specific project in mind, rather they tend to bring together the material-so-far, as it were. And that is partly true for 'Knuckled.' But I also wanted to make a collection that had a strong voice and a sense of humour, and I was really intent on mapping as well. Most of the poems are very firmly about place and about the way places can carry stories for us, as sites of experience and memory and emotion. And of course, I was working a lot at the time with a writers' group in Western Sydney, a group that's now become the Sweatshop Literacy Movement, and we were all working on writing about the western suburbs, from the inside, and bringing that particular place into our literature more prominently.<br /><br /><i>Tell me about your involvement with Red Room Company.</i><br /><br />I first got involved with Red Room through their Toilet Doors project, in 2004. It was a project that teamed up six poets with graphic designers and illustrators to make a series of posters for display on the backs of public toilet doors, instead of the ads for urinary tract health or gambling helplines that you're more likely to see there; the project really appealed to my sense of humour, and it was the first large-scale publication or project I'd ever been included in. After the project ended, I started working with the company as an intern, of sorts - I needed to do an internship as a part of my ill-advised media degree, and the company needed more hands, so it worked out quite well. Red Room is a really vital and energetic organisation, and I'd certainly never seen anything like it at the time; and because it was still quite small, I was able to be involved on all kinds of levels - from researching project partners to helping out at events, to media work, reading submissions, and, of course, meeting and working with the first poets I'd ever met. It gave me a great grounding in contemporary poetry, and really gave me the confidence to pursue my own work, which I'm still so grateful for. Red Room now runs a really great poetry education project alongside their other work, so I still get to be involved, sometimes, in their workshops and projects within schools, which is always a joy.<br /><br /><i>What have you learned from all your years in publishing?</i><br /><br />I think there are two really important things that I learnt really quickly, which are essentially, don't take it personally, and don't be lazy. Don't take it personally I say because I've seen the other side of submissions, in terms of both how huge and competitive the slush pile really is, and how some of the decisions that magazines make about what is accepted and what is rejected come down to factors that are almost outside of the writing itself. By that, I mean that some decisions come down to themes that have become apparent within that particular issue, the number of pages still available, the fact that the gender balance might need correcting, or because they're not quite right for that particular publication - so some works might miss out by a tiny margin, and not necessarily because they're bad pieces of writing. </span></div>
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<span style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: large;">Don't be lazy is also, I guess, related to the size of slush piles - because you're reading so much writing, as an editor, it becomes quite obvious that there are some little tics and tricks that writers fall back on when the work just isn't working, as it were. It gets to the point where you can spot a cliche in an instant - and of course, any kind of cliche isn't going to make a piece stand out from the huge pile of slush that it's been plucked from. I guess what I'm saying is that reading bad writing, or sloppy writing, really helped me recognise some weaknesses in my own work, and to work harder to overcome them.<br /><br /><i>What role does poetry play in Australia in 2014?</i><br /><br />I think poetry is always going to be a small force, in terms of its reach and readership, but that doesn't make it any less vital or important for the people who love it and live by it. What I love, and have always loved about poetry is the strength of the community it has, how passionate and intelligent that community is, but also how generous and supportive it can be too, when it is at its best. I don't think poetry is ever going to be a commercial force, but in many ways, that is its very strength - it's a counter-narrative, and a thing that is always defiantly and even perversely itself. My favourite kinds of people are like that too.<br /><br /><i>Is Sydney your home for good?</i><br /><br />That, I don't think anyone can ever tell! For good is a long and definite thing! But Sydney is my home, I love it here, and it's where my community is too. I love the way this city is so various, that it has so many little pockets and enclaves that are so different from the others, and that it's so fiercely tribal too, perhaps as a result. And it's beautiful, I love living in such a beautiful place.<br /><br /><i>When can we see another poetry collection from you?</i></span></div>
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Lorne Johnson http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847237893591335672noreply@blogger.com0