I was invited to go North in February to see, be part of, help with, a performance week Sinead O’Donnell was curating with others in Belfast. There was to be a Canadian Performance artist one of whom was Paul Couillard. The various Performances, discussions, and collaborations were around the theme “Chaos” A Condition or place of great disorder and confusion and to be held/seen in Belfast’s Catalyst Art Centre, Black box, theatre space, and other Not for Profit Art Spaces.

Two poems from our resident poet Alan Maguire; Manical Monsters and Urban Gorilla

The signal tower, elusive behind the brow of the hill, was one feature of the island I had wanted to see. Martello towers have always interested me- it’s their proud replication in so many different parts of their globe coupled with a universal redundancy. From the height of the tower is a full round view of the Bull, Cow and Calf islands, the stump of lighthouse on the latter like a charred log, the Mizen and Sheep’s Head to the south, the Kerry peninsulas to the North, and the Skelligs haunting on the horizon. On such a day it was not hard to imagine the fleets of fresh, white billowing sails floating past in the heyday of the pirates.

It’s getting an audience in to see a punk poet or a bunch of likeminded people to enjoy your art form and are willing to give up an evening to take a chance on something new. My poetry is inspired by the likes of John Cooper Clarke and bands such as Joy Division and The Fall more than the traditional poets.

 
I write not to be remembered, but to remember. I do not write to impress, or to confer meaning upon life or as a hobby; I write to understand. I write a life for myself I know I won’t live. I don’t write about lives that I neither want nor don’t want; there is a […]

So. Two people. Initially, at a point, they bumped, in a victual shop, a library, a friend’s home, an educational zone, the work place, wherever. And a magnetic simply was, drawing them, pulling them, tugging them, an increasing centrifugal incongruity propelling an inexplicable, centralising exclusivity, transmuting individuals into one.

It’s almost Oscar time again, and although it can seem like nothing more than a Hollywood showcase, look closer, and the Academy Award nominees can provide us with some good suggestions for entertaining viewing. I know that I particularly like to scan the short film lists, and this year sees two Irish shorts take their place in both the Live Action Short and the Animated Short film categories

‘A Report to an Academy’ is a short story by Franz Kafka told from the point of view of an ape. The ape, ‘Red Peter’, so-called for the red mark on his cheek, the only sign thought to distinguish him from his predecessor ‘Peter’, addresses an esteemed audience of academics on the topic of his life.

I had found the perfect place to expire. A compact 1-bed flat just off the industrial heart of the city, with rusted bars spiralling upwards from the window-perches, cream walls, subtle furnishings. There were no paintings colouring the walls, the television was small, and the sparse fire crackled hoarsely and burnt small heaps of wood in the corner of the room.

As a whole we are too obsessed with the celebrity. This is fame over talent and in most cases the new breed of celebrity is without any of it. They think their faces will earn them money and in some cases that is enough. We are living in an age where we will pay someone to attend a party; we will pay someone to get married, we will pay someone to live in a house, we will pay someone to open a shopping centre, we will pay someone to pose for a photo.
Fame eats into us. We are all hungry for it to some extent and want to be recognised for doing, being, something, or someone.