I first came across the incredible stillness and power of Yaa Gyasi's writing some years ago when reading a short story penned by the Ghanaian-born author in Guernica Magazine. Inscape, narrated from a daughter's perspective, told the tale of a woman and her Ghanaian mother, weaving between themes of religion, culture and mental illness with… Continue reading What an evening with Yaa Gyasi taught me about inspiration
Every so often you come across words – a passage of literature, a quote, a pithy aphorism – that perfectly capture some truth inside of you; a long-held belief, an inward conviction, a sentiment so true it resonates, it seems, in every cell of your being like a well struck chord. For me, I’ve perhaps… Continue reading On the Beauty of the Tree
There's this strange nebulous space you tend to occupy as a writer, or even, perhaps, a creator or storyteller of any kind; a sort of hovering furtive interstice between here and elsewhere, wakefulness and daydream, vivid yet vague; like a mental version of twilight. Which is why I loved stumbling across this excerpt from Jane Vandenburgh's Architecture… Continue reading The Habit of Art
Thrilling, moving, visceral - at some point you run out of words to explain the feelings that run through you after watching Michael Buffong's stunning adaptation of King Lear. I went to the showing at Manchester's Royal Exchange Theatre last night and loved pretty much every minute of it. The dark, modern soundscape, the ridiculously… Continue reading King Lear: A World Where Race Doesn’t Matter?
So, in the lead up to Christmas I stumbled upon a drawing set someone had given me the previous year; a neat shallow tin of sketching pencils which, I thought, was a pretty cool gift, the kind of nostalgia-laden offering that had conjured up notions of taking stock and adjusting my lifestyle, i.e., I used… Continue reading Anatomy of a Self Portrait
Cue the credits, then the music, and our numbed seats rise slowly in unison, and a room of strangers together arch their spines, stretch their legs, and spread their arms, as though for flight, as the cosy dimness finally lifts and ushers us back to reality with the sated sigh of having been, for a… Continue reading Why Does Art Matter?