Wednesday, 30 April 2014

Eabha Rose Website  

have been updating my acting website - and it's starting to take shape

Saturday, 26 April 2014

Lost in Motion II

i found my true self through another, one who looks like me and feels like me and 
loves like me 

..and is that part that what you want?

all of it is true

Thursday, 24 April 2014

Earlier this month, I had the pleasure of interviewing John Joyce for the forthcoming first anthology from Poets and Writers for a Different World Movement. During our meeting, we discussed John’s observations on the journey Irish art and literature has taken since the publication of his granduncle’s novel, Ulysses, and also John’s own work within the field of literature and music. These are some of of the more memorable observations from our meeting :

In holding a mirror up to society of the early 1900’s, [Joyce] explored what was really going on in terms of a country reputed to have had the biggest red light district in Europe at that time (this region of Dublin was immortalized in the ‘Circe’ chapter of Ulysses) as well as highlighting a society troubled by alcohol misuse, an issue we continue to trivialize

Dedicated to recording human nature with as much authenticity as possible, [Joyce] believed if he could get to the heart of Dublin, he could get to the heart of all the cities in the world. When Joyce first held up the nicely polished mirror, people didn't like it, and this discomfort was certainly to blame for the early rejection of his work.

Dublin has a remarkable literary heritage for a relatively small European capital, and Joyce as a forerunner in experimental writing, stretched the stylistic possibilities of the English language to their limits. He was attuned to the music of language and used this talent to cross frontiers. He took delight in playing with his medium. In combining the mythical with the absurd and using stream of consciousness, Joyce had a profound impact on future generations of writers and indeed his influence continues to make itself known.

Rooftop ~ Poetry

Tuesday, 15 April 2014

Doves of Beirut

written by Silva Zanoyan Merjanian, read by Eabha Rose
(first published in The Original Van Gogh’s Ear Anthology)
The Original Van Gogh's Ear Anthology 

Doves were arrogant in those days
feral, territorial of ledges.
I hadn't snapped their necks yet
Through grind of metal
on bone, stone
through air sharpened on greed hones

no scream left in punctured lungs
fate duct taped to fetal nights
barricaded behind shadowed ribs
that hardly rose for a fight
underneath rubble of lord's prayer and adhan

they pecked at concrete
heads bobbing - waiting
they knew I'd come
they knew I'd tire of walking
your curved dead -end streets
I knew those ledges well
gravel and loose feathers
wet with rain
stuck with white droppings
to my young toes curled on grit
but I knew your streets below better
lick of diesel on asphalt
grief's iron reek in gutters rising
damp alleys breathing
the way the old do
those who'd seen the blade
cut through flesh
a sigh every third inhale
a pause before funneling
jasmine and mold laced gasps into patched veins
tied to the stone
tied to throbbing ground
with historical claims,
to the sea breeze
that couldn't cool their burns
still rummaging for life
as they used to remember it

I walked on sweat of fig trees
on your sidewalks bleeding at cracks
when you had the pigeon for dinner
and I starving, gnawed on bones
where I'd tied my message
pleading for your unclutched claws
on my debt
I hear you like your whores younger these days
and you rather have your sons as killers
blind and foaming revenge at mouth
darbouka between their knees dropped for guns
streets mapped in bite marks
on time I served now dyed ash blond
I look away
the way the old do
eyes on the distance to your bleeding ledge

Friday, 11 April 2014

The Illustrated Word

To watch a piece of poetry come to life through performance has to be one of the most exhilarating experiences for a writer. My recent experience of watching this transition from one art form to another was like watching my imagination come to life. It certainly helped that the actors I was working with shared my hopes and goals for the characters. In carrying them into this new space, the actors brought with them the characters’ backstories and life experiences, played out through sound, movement and interaction.  My make-believe friends began to materialize before my eyes.  The more they did, the more I realized that these personalities are all elements of my own. I am never free from my text in the same way an actor is never free from the character they are living and breathing through. Each is dependent on the other for life.

Towards the end of the day, one of the actors, who is also a friend of mine, howled in exasperation after spending an hour shooting a scene in which his accomplice is leaning over a toilet bowl as he holds up her hair. ‘Trust you to write something like this…’ he said to me.

All in the name of art.

The following video is a reading of poet Silva Zanoyan’s poem, ‘Choices’. I chose this because I realized as I set out to record ‘Choices’ the importance of the relationship and understanding between poet and narrator. They too share an historic journey.

architecture of meaning

Montreal author Nicole Brossard's book of poetry (translated into English is entitled Notebook of Roses and Civilization), Cahier de roses et de Civilization, explores the movement of language and gender through language and the lyric abstract in both French and English. 

What is it about her language that overcomes, like a slow wave, sweeping in and drowning you? What is it about her language that makes you welcome the process of being overcome?

..once again the exact time the street
the cigarette we don’t light
again the time the sex of lips
existence silence that deafens
another metamorphosis
arms open

'The heat of summer on an earlobe, a parking meter, the shadow of crabs and pigeons under a cherry tree, an olive, a shoulder blade - In the poems of Nicole Brossard these concrete, quotidian things move languorously through the senses to find a place beyond language. Taken together, they create an audacious new architecture of meaning. Nicole Brossard, one of the world's foremost literary innovators, is known for her experiments with language and her groundbreaking treatment of desire and gender. This dexterous translation brings into English, with great verve and sensitivity, Brossard's remarkable syntax, sadness, and sensuality.'

Brossard's book does not include the French text, but the two translators, 
Rober Majzels and Erin Moure are experienced and the monolingual writer can trust them. The language moves confidently, flowing without obvious transitions over a range of themes: beauty, love, language, war. The rose is associated with nature and passion, civilization mostly with war and power. Three "Softlinks," prose poems dispersed throughout the book, offer the reader some ways into the meanings of the elusive lyrics that make up most of the work. Brossard is perhaps referring to the SoftLink library automation systems: libraries, repositories of the word, contain much of what is good in civilization. The outer world, the poems tell us, is not only a world of natural beauty but also the realm of men with "eyes of Kalashnikovs." 

The second "Softlink" decries the power of men in white shirts who traffic in weapons, and trade women and children. This is the darkside of civilization. Yet the urban, the core of civilization, can be associated with the erotic: the speaker remembers the '80s in Chez Madame Arthur, a famous Paris nightclub where "women wrapped their arms around / nights of ink and dawn."

If there is any resolution of the dichotomies of the rose and civilization, it lies in the words, which are treated in "Softlink 3" not as mere signs but as real entities. Any word, any language. In a passage that calls to mind Rilke's "Ninth Duino Elegy," which says we are here to affirm being through words, Brossard summons up the sorts of words that drive and haunt us: names of places and people, of cherished objects, words of pleasure and pain, words that "shoot up before our very eyes like cloned shadows replete with light and great myths." The word is entangled with civilization and its discontents, but also preserves and exalts the realm of the rose.

Tuesday, 8 April 2014

This is a little late but very proud and wanted to share! Paul's exhibition at the Agora Gallery took place between January 14th and February 4th. It was a huge success and the feedback has been wonderful. We are so proud of him.

Here is Agora's write-up as well as a pic from opening night!

'As he creates images infused with the purity of the moment, Paul Hartel paints with a playful sense of freedom and an energetic vibrancy. His paintings surge with an expressively joyful abstraction, filled with explosive movements of color and texture, at times referencing reality with elements of figures and scenes as he brings to life a rhythmic spontaneity and raw dynamism. Throughout Hartel’s art one discovers a celebration of the inner child, as he makes the subconscious visual with an interpretive jazz styling. Building his works in oil and acrylic paints on canvas, Hartel occasionally adds charcoal and uses a variety of tools and techniques to apply his mediums, including pouring, scraping, and his fingers.

Raised in upstate New York, Paul Hartel has lived throughout the United States and Ireland and now resides in West Virginia, where in addition to his career as an artist and photographer, he also works as a physician specializing in pathology. He has achieved a Master’s degree in Psychology and Medical Science as well as his Doctorate in Medicine.'

the strange creature

is she the lone hunter the mammal of the dog family but not quite

who tips on snowed benches
watch her scuff with the paw and poke with the foot
the little schoffel 
the fox-grape eyed, the mastering-chaos-mustering muscle and bone
what empathy for all your sins she carries
what well-deserving, bickering teeth she's got
lying beside you in the bluish rooms
now go now, choo
the fur will soon be changing into reddish-brown
spring on the way, muzzle up _ roll up and sail secure

(for Carol)

This heart wrenching piece of poetry is from the blog of Setty Lepida

Monday, 7 April 2014

Thank you, photographer, Michaela Alex for your patience and enthusiasm. This is one of my favourites!

Cut Up! - Oneiros Books

delighted to have two poems included in this new anthology available through the following link -

CUT UP! An Anthology Inspired by the Cut-Up Method of William S. Burrough, Brion Gysin

Edited by A.D. Hitchin, Joe Ambrose
In Paris in the late Fifties the Beat Generation writer William Burroughs and his sidekick Brion Gysin developed the cut-up method. It involved taking a piece of finished text and cutting it into pieces – then rearranging those pieces to create a new text or work of art. Burroughs wrote that: “When you cut into the present the future leaks out.” The cut-up had a profound effect on music, writing, painting, and film. Devotees of the cut-up include David Bowie, Radiohead, and Kathy Acker. In addition to bringing together new work by new people, CUT UP! also salutes some better known 20th Century voices who kept the spirit of Burroughs and Gysin alive.

Contributors include Kenji Siratori, Claude PĂ©lieu, Nina Antonia, Billy Chainsaw, Cabell McLean, Mary Beach, Marc Olmsted, Allen Ginsberg, Spencer Kansa, Michael Butterworth, Robert Rosen, Nathan Penlington, Sinclair Beiles, Gary J. Shipley, D M Mitchell, and Edward S. Robinson

“Burroughs used the cut-ups to write beautiful poetry, or he would cut up his friends’ personalities and see what emerged. The cut-ups are the runway to the magic universe. Everybody should cut their lovers up for better sex. Everyone should get themselves CUT UP!”

Victor Bockris, author of Transformer – The Lou Reed Story; Andy Warhol – The Biography

“Since Gysin sliced the papers and with Burroughs saw the realm of the possible, the cut-ups have always been essential as experiments across all media. This volume returns to theories, texts and images; it looks back, looks forward, and cuts.”

'This Is Not a Review' - Robert Rosen on CUT UP!
'A word of caution to those with delicate sensibilities: Phrases such as “corpse fetish pussy gangbang” (which I’ve cut from Siratori’s “Phishingera”) occur with frequency.
More adventurous readers, however, may argue that they do not occur frequently enough.'

- Robert Rosen

Read the full article here: