Saturday, 15 October 2016
Mark has included it in this lovely collection of his work, his comics, the imagery he toys with and the world as he sees it. The book itself is a lovely object with the feel of a found artifact attempting "to put this moment here." There are some lovely photographs taken around and off locations well known to those who like to browse in the soft outre.It is a kindly and timely reflection of some themes, places and people who enrich my own life.It is almost like a familiar piece of music.
Hope the locations found in it can still be found years from now.
It is a new publication from Mark but it did touch me in a melancholy way.The past is the now waiting to happen and sometimes I wish I could slow down the things I enjoy and speed through the things I do not. I suppose that is why we have such things as art, writing and music.To help us keep track and make some sense of it all. And that is why I think Mark is such a creative person.
He can do it.
For any age.
Sunday, 2 October 2016
At some point in the night I heard the tap tapping of wind bare branches against the rain slick window pane of my room. It was only as I finished the novella and turned over for sleep I realised the branches of the tree outside my house were nowhere near tapping distance.
A late evening viewer arrives at a house that has sat empty for twenty long years and is shown around by the sitting house keeper. A tale of murder and madness unfolds.
It also has a very haunting sound track by Marc Wilkinson. A fragile presence itself it makes itself felt at certain points in the narrative, sign posting oncoming tragedy.
It seems like this an obscure and quite forgot about piece that deserves to be seen.
An absolute treat foe forthcoming Halloween.
And how on the money he was. My da used to tell me ghost stories when i was a boy. Long rambling stories told in front of the fire. This is not a cliche to me it is a memory. Story telling is an art form and ghost story telling is an especially crafty one. Sheridan Le Fanu was a great teller of tales and his stories work so well on paper it is almost as if you have joined him on a chair before a crackling hearth on a windy wintery night. A few of the stories are collected versions of yarns told in a similar manner through out the Irish countryside. Mysterious figures that draw ever closer with no good intent. Stories that begin with an aged person relating the experiences of their youth. Fateful and terrifying experiences that change the course of the tellers life. There are encounters with chilling half real entities with talon like fingers that close around a bodies throat or come staggering judder man like out of dark places. There is very little whimsy present in these stories. They do not shy from the hardness of life particularly lives lived without love. Old Ireland could be a tough place to be weak and vulnerable I suppose it still is. Depending on the kindness is a lottery and there are way too many losers.
I thought of the band from Dublin The Virgin Prunes and their macabre sound. I thought of old empty buildings where something stirred the dust and cold breath from undead lungs. Some of these stories should just be read out loud. To an empty room if need be.