dark am i, yet lovely, a lily among thorns, majestic as stars in procession

dark am i, yet lovely, a lily among thorns, majestic as stars in procession

Friday, 28 December 2012

The Hobbit

A recent project of mine contains a heroic kinda guy from the past known only, so far, as the Dwarf Knight. I had this image, see, of a Dwarf in gladiatorial armour leading the front line into battle. I got this image when listening to a certain song, a helluva thumping stylish song I might add, and developed the imagery whenever I donned the headphones to listen again.

Perhaps you see stories to certain songs as well. My advice is to play your favourite songs sparingly, because you never know when you might need them. They have the power to access a special part of your brain. Depending upon your taste in music, of course…

At the time of writing I is not seen any of the previous movies related to The Hobbit. We all know what I’m talking about. The Geek of the Rings. The Lord of the Geeks. That famous trilogy. Beowulf was enuff for me. Beowulf reinforced mystical notions of castles and queens. Whatever good action sequences were in The Lord of the Rings, I always thought it was a bum deal having to spend three hours in an armchair to view them. A nine hour trilogy? No.

The same went for Beowulf, actually. I would never have gone near it but eventually watched it by accident. And similarly for The Hobbit—accident only. And it’s for certain now—accidents spring up the best surprises. When you’re bored by fancy dress silliness, and a class ending comes rocking in, then hands up, well done, respect. You realise, maybe, at a point, luckily, that emotionally, the material on the screen is primed personally for you. The material ties in with your writing, with the imaginary fantasies in your head. With your favourite music. With its own music. In slow-mo.

Nay spoilers here, but the word I’m looking for is RESONATION. It took its time, because after ninety minutes I was becoming almost deeply gutted for not watching Tom Cruise is Jack Reacher instead (is that the name of the movie, by the way, Tom Cruise is Jack Reacher? Judging by the weight of the font on the posters, it wouldn’t take a total buffoon to guess that it was). But then, when Andy Serkis came into it as that skinny cute ugly disturbing creature known as Gollum, things perked up a bit. By the finale, things had perked up a lot.

But let’s not discuss Andy Serkis or this’ll drag on and on and it’s getting late. We’ll skip over the lovable Martin Freeman from The Office, too. At one point I remembered oh yeah this movie is Peter Jackson’s doing and then, just moments later, he hit me with a signature shot I recognised from Braindead (1992) and King Kong (2005). Uncanny, I tell thee. Will try to describe Peter Jackson’s signature shot in another post sometime, maybe. Like I just got done impressing upon you, time’s a-tickin’.

Could go on forever here, but think it’s time to wrap up and catch Kermode’s opinion on the movie. The main thing I wanted to say is that I learned something important from The Hobbit, something I think I already knew but something it always helps to be reminded of. To sum it up would be this:


Too many folks get hung up about winning, losing, and drawing, when really, it’s not about that at all. Oh, you won again did you? One-nil? So bleedin’ what. THROWING YOURSELF IN THE MIX is about courage and honour and dignity, the sheer undeniable inspiration of combat and rivalry, not winning or losing or drawing.

I never got my Dwarf Knight from The Hobbit, although it will look like I did. I think the origin may be an old computer game called Ghosts n Goblins. Yup, that would make more sense.

Saturday, 15 December 2012

Sand In My Face - An Extract

I never had a face to pin my anger on. Just a barn door back and calves like upside down pyramids. The next day I bought myself some plastic weights and a bench from Argos. Then I bought a copy of The Beef magazine. At first, putting weight on and getting big seemed like an impossible dream, something only to be achieved with drugs, but one night I studied myself in the mirror after a workout and had a revelation. I was staring at my chest, my shoulders, and my biceps. I wondered to myself what could be so darn hard about increasing the size of these three muscle groups? There’s no exam to pass. There’s no secret or mystery. The evidence is in front of my eyes. I can see the tools I'll be working with. And suddenly it all seemed so simple.

from Schmoe 2

Thursday, 13 December 2012

Termite Stalagmite

Sick and tired of handling fairly big lumps of clay and trying to batter some shape into them so something small of more manageable size was attempted instead. It’s more interesting to make more fragile shapes, like a leaf for instance, but the risk increases and how do you transport it? With this one, the clay had begun to go off by the time windows were pressed in, so that means you have to grab it a little harder. Not very desirable when a fingersmith’s touch is the order of the day. Simply picking a piece of clay up from the table leaves an impression. That's why they say, “Clay has a memory.”

quite often things look a little wonky but if it comes to the push then a spot of blu-tack can level the base any time after final firing

Sunday, 9 December 2012

Best Verse Ever

There’s an exhibition of doors in Merseyside Museum. Basically a collection of real doors unhinged from their original frames, wherever they might have been, and erected together as a group after some serious artful intervention. They are painted and decorated and peppered with thoughtful jokes and poetry. One in particular has some of the best verse on it ever created by man. It is only four lines, which is not a lot when you think about how many words you could fit on a whole door if you tried, but sometimes less really is more, and especially in this case. Honestly, this post cannot speak highly enough of the text you are about to read. Unfortunately there is no name attached to the master wordsmith responsible, but wherever he or she is, here’s to them taking a well-deserved bow. Forget Shakespeare’s sonnets, or any other famous names you might associate with the craft of writing. This below is the real deal. No messing. No nonsense. Just straight-up layman literature, John Smith’s style. Here it goes:

Woke Up
Had Shave
Did Crossword
Had Another Shave

Friday, 7 December 2012