Tribe Issue 10

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2009 tribeINTERNATIONAL CREATIVE ARTS MAGAZINE

2 ISSUE 10 TRIBE MAGAZINE

ISSUE 10 TRIBE MAGAZINE 3


It happened somehow that recently I participated in two discussions concerning contemporary art. In spite of the fact they had different plots both were about same matter; a term we don't usually pick when first speaking of contemporary art -‐ beauty.

Indeed, what definitions do we use to describe the objects of modern art? Creative, inspiring, unique, daring? Rarer -‐ stunning, magnificent?So those discussions, very open and genuine and fairly hot, were about whether it is still possible to use the term 'beauty' when speaking of art being born this very moment. The participants were mostly artists and to my surprise the opinions were divided froma very firm NO! to rather weak WHY NOT?

I mentioned one thing -‐ all those who were firmly in favor of NO! took ‘beauty’ to mean something pleasant and saw it in only positive, joyful ways. Being a part of minority -‐ a weak WHY NOT? -‐ I was looking for counter arguments to present themselves. To me the artist’s destination is to reflect the things -‐ subjects, moods, etc that inspired him or her. To catch the insight of this magnificent moment when he felt ... what? The beauty of this world? Contemporary art has produced a lot of new ways to do this, minimalist artist uses minimum visual instruments, while abstract is about the combination of colors and shapes. Both can be equally boring and equally attractive, by the way...

So trying not to be pushy, I presented my point of view. In fact, in addition to everything that might be said about beauty, we can not also avoid the eternal moral aspect of the term. Even within the same generation the meaning of ‘beautiful’ varies greatly. Among the closest examples to me -‐ the official concept of beauty in the former Soviet Union. All my attempts to get any information about Salvador Dali back then ended with a short definition from the encyclopedia -‐ ‘an artistic phenomenon of capitalist society producing shocking subjectless paintings with the only goal of making money’. On the other hand the definition of Pablo Picasso or Manfred Mann, thanks to their loyalty to communist ideas, was not punished.

Arguing seemed endless -‐ at one stage I was even provided with something like “I was using the term ‘beauty’ as most Americans would think of the term. For example, as seen in flowers...” It didn’t get wide support though...

Anyway, back to what I was up to. Art is beautiful. The fact not everyone agrees with this does not mean it is not.

This issue of tribe magazine is the best illustration of this. Enjoy it.

Sergey Kireev, St Petersburg, Russia

WELCOME

Sergey Kireev writes

Contents illustrator Joanna Larsen Burnett

Find more of her work at: jolarsenburne].co.uk

Editor In Chief

Mark Doyle

Editor

Ali Donkin

Editor

Tilly Craig

Editorial Director

Peter Davey

Contributing Editor

Glyn Davies

Marketing Director

Steve Clement-‐Large

Cover

Brydee Rood

Contributors

Joanna Larsen Burnett,

Brydee Rood, Emily Rose,

Penelope Davies, Miranda

Robson, Danielle Banks,

Deivis Stavinskas, Elizabeth

Dismorr, Ellie Ellis, Ellen

Jantzen, Ian Clark, Ian Pyper,

Jess John, Kenny Knight,

Christine Vescuso.

Contact

To Submit:

[email protected]

To say hello:

[email protected]

Full contact details can be

found on our website.

www.tribemagazine.org

ISSN: 2050-‐5302

http://jolarsenburnett.co.uk/

http://jolarsenburnett.co.uk/

mailto:[email protected]





Miranda Robson pg 10

Penelope Dav

ies Pg 26

Brydee Rood Pg 48

Emily Rose Pg 64

Jon’s G

randad

Part 2

pg 80

Kenny Knight Pg 96

6 ISSUE 10 TRIBE MAGAZINE Good deeds

ISSUE 10 TRIBE MAGAZINE 7How To Stop Slumps

ISSUE 10 TRIBE MAGAZINE 9Danielle Banks


M i r a n d a

R o b s o n


C u r r e n t l y i n h e r s e c o n d y e a r o f f i n e a r t a t U n i v e r s i t y C o l l e g e F a l m o u t h , s p e c i a l i s i n g i n d r a w i n g a n d e t c h i n g , t r i b e c o r r e s p o n d e n t H e l e n M o o r e c a m e a c r o s s M i r a n d a ’s w o r k w h i l s t s h e w a s s h o w i n g a f r i e n d h e r p o r t f o l i o o n t h e b u s .


Where did you learn the etching process?

I learnt etching in Foundation at Falmouth and I fell in love with it. I continued on etching and drawing at University.

What is it about etching that you love?

Well I really love the process; it al lows me to push my passion in drawing further.

It’s a long process.

Yes, I have to experiment a lot to get the outcome I want to achieve. I work with acid, which can be temperamental. So I have to do a lot of test stripes and experiments, but it’s al l worth it for the excitement of seeing the final outcome.

What inspires you?

Movement, landscape, the sublime, the unknown, fog receding into the horizon, all things that are symbolic of journeys. That’s why I draw the sea it’s the perfect form to represent all of these.

I can see from your pictures that you work in two very distinct ways.

Yes, I love to sit and draw very detailed images of the sea; I f ind it very relaxing. But I also love to draw more freely with a few strokes and less controlled, sometimes I make very simple marks on the etching plate with a cloth.

Your freehand work looks very inspired by Japanese art.


Yeah I’m really inspired by call igraphy and using one movement.

What else informs your work?

Well I really l ike romanticism, the impressionists; I’ve done a piece inspired by Monet. Artists that inspire me are CY Twombly and a local artist called Sax Impey.

You’re from Somerset originally, so why are your so fascinated by the sea?

Me and my family used to come to Cornwall on holidays all the time. I love to surf, I swim a lot, and I spend as much time as I possibly can in the sea.

Where can we see your work?

I ’m currently exhibiting at a new gallery space run by students in Falmouth called ‘The Shop Gallery.’

Visit Miranda Robson’s tumbler: mirandarobson.tumblr.com

Or visit ‘The Shop Gallery’ website: theshopgallery.bigcartel.com

18 ISSUE 10 TRIBE MAGAZINE Deivis Slavinskas

ISSUE 10 TRIBE MAGAZINE 23Elizabeth Dismorr


Having spent time with photographer Jon Broks and helping to unearth the past for the present, it made me contemplate the process that the present is the past that fades into memory creating its own narrative that forms the present. What is memory, when faced with fragile objects like photographs; is it just a collection, a souvenir, another way of seeing the nostalgic fascination of fragments, captured in time? Does it inform some kind of historical document that informs the viewer maybe a shared language of culture values, morals and social identity and its place within political culture, or is it just a family snapshot, that shares a reflection on the past that creates and informs the present? There is no easy answer only more questions, no clear perspective. It ’s the exploration of ideas on this subject that keeps me frustrated and interested in this research and the abstract nature of seeing.

PHOTOGRAPHIC M E M O R Y

This issue tribe looks at the work of several photographers who are inspired by memory.

Editorial Director Pete Davey explains why photography helps artists explore memory.


Va n i s h ed Pa s t

Fami ly /Souvenir/ Consumption/ Voyeur/ Another world/ Nostalg ic / Preserved/ T ime-‐Space/ another Real i ty/ Values/ Morals/

F r a gmen t s O f T ime

C u l t u r e I d e n t i t y / I n s t i t u t i o n / F a s c i n a t i o n / I n fo rm / Po l i t i c a l Cu l t u re / E l ement s / Sha red Language/ Histor ica l Document

A n t h ro po l o g i s t

Mesmer i sed/ Snapshot/ Jux tapos i t ion/ Dec i s i ve Moments/ Captur ing the Moment/ People/ P laces

PHOTOGRAPHIC M E M O R Y


Pete: Penny your images are really intereseng and are full of emoeon.

Penelope: Well they are, my main objeceve when I use a camera is to take photographs from the heart, I try because I’m an emoeonal person, and because I want it to be a visual experience for the viewer. I want them to look at the pictures and feel something, I don’t want them to just look at them and think ‘oh that’s just a picture of a door’ I want my emoeon to go into my pictures.

Pete: What is the fascinaeon with black and white?

Penelope: Well it all started with this year, the second year of my degree, I have concentrated very much on family and memory, and objects of memory and things like that, so I for me black and white kind of gave it more of a eme statement and it kind of shows, because I’m quite old fashioned as well. I grew up in the 1960’s when there was a lot of black and white photography, and all of the images I have of my family are all in black and white, so to me it kind of ees in with the link from past to present. I did try to do some in colour but they just didn’t work for me -‐ the black and white has more of a emeless quality to it I think and I like Film Noir as well, so there is probably a bit of influence from that in there as well.

Pete: How do you feel about colour photography?

Penelope: Each to his own taste. I mean I do like colour photography as well but I think it depends on the subject. I find Maren Parr’s work quite amusing so I do actually quite like his work even though its saturated in colour, so I think it depends very much on what you’re doing, and what you’re trying to say.

P E N E L O P E D A V I E S

Interview by Pete Davy


Pete: You are very precise with your composieon I noece.

Penelope: Yeah, actually what I’ve noeced about my images, aker I’ve taken them they have a lot of corners and a lot of doors…

Pete: Yes I noeced that, it’s almost I don’t know if you agree, but it reminds me in some ways of Robert Frank.

Penelope: Yes, I really like his work and the use of cut off and again the use of black and white. One of my lecturers said to me, ‘well do you know what comes to my mind is what’s beyond the frame’ -‐ that made me think.

Pete: Well that’s another thing that runs through these set of images -‐ there is a frame within a frame -‐ was that on purpose or subconcious?

Penelope: Well when I am taking the photographs the thing I am actually doing is chasing the light, so all I’m


concentraeng on is where the light is and what the pa]ern is of the light but it’s only when I get the pictures printed that I can see lots of other things. I think they are full of metaphors because I came to college so late there’s a lot of turning a corner; what’s around the corner, opening a door of opportunity, one door closes another door opens, there’s a lot of that in it I think, it’s kind of to do with my learning as well.

Pete: I also think there is a sense of memory there, and isolaeon…

Penelope: Well yeah, because I’ve lost a lot of my family so, and I am a li]le bit spiritual. For me the light is a comfort, I’m always searching for the light because you know I have a darkness inside me and I have suffered from depression and things, so I think for me I search for the light, it’s also loved ones who aren’t here anymore. I find comfort in the light because I see them in the light, as kind of a story within me if you like -‐ they’re always with me so they’re always in my heart and yes I do someemes feel


very alone because I have lost them, but then kind of on the posieve I sell feel them in the light.

Pete: Tell me about the image with the text -‐ “Normal People Scare Me”

Penelope: I went into when my daughter wasn’t here I went into her room because I had never photographed in her bedroom and when I walked in there I kind of took a step back because she had wri]en that on the wall and I thought ‘Wow that’s really cool’ and on the other hand I was thinking ‘God this is worrying’, but she is a very quiet person and she doesn’t have a lot to do with outside people so you know I guess she is like me in lots of ways. I just really liked the text and I mean I like wrieng and that’s one of the things I want to combine is: photography and wrieng. I thought it was really intereseng the way she had wri]en it on the wall, because normal people scare me as well.

Pete: Are they any parecular arests who have influenced you?

Penelope: I don’t know really to be honest. I like classics I have read quite a bit of Charles Dickens and things with that character base. I really like abstract expressionism and surrealists, the Dada movement, that all really speaks to me when I look at Mark Rothko because I mean his work is all about splashes of colour but when you read about him and find out how he’s painted and what he is actually trying to convey they are all very much a visual narraeve that you have to read into and I guess that has kind of influenced me a bit as well.

I suppose I do tend to like narraeve and I do love my home so a lot of my work is home based because I think you can find a lot in your own surroundings. It’s all about the act of seeing and you know things that are like blindingly obvious. Things that have become so obvious that you don’t noece them anymore and I like that idea of actually conenuing to noece what’s there rather than it just being around and you not noecing it. -‐ everything has kind of a life of its own outside of eme.

Pete: So you’re interested in the mundane?

Penelope: Yes I do, because I think we take far too much for granted in life and I think that’s where that comes from -‐ I don’t like people, things or objects being taken for granted.

Pete: Can you talk about the use of objects in your work?

Penelope: The first photograph in the series is of the camera and the camera has kind of had a story for me because at first when I was at college the camera was something I was learning how to use: exposures, apertures and all of that. Then it became something that I hid behind because out there at the eme I was kind of a bit nervous about my work and not feeling very confident, so I would go out and realise that I could hide behind my camera and I wouldn’t have to mix too much and I could just kind of concentrate. Now the camera has become one with me because I do go anywhere without my camera, so it’s become me now and the camera. With the camera I can just capture things whereas before I didn’t know how to express myself or how I would actually get out what’s inside me, so the camera has become really important for me. <


Penelope Davies


Ellie Ellis

ISSUE 10 TRIBE MAGAZINE 43Ellen Jantzen


Ian Clark


Ian Pyper


BRYDEE


BRYDEE ROOD


Your work interacts with natural surroundings, in particular "To bewith you, to be free..." goes further, you use the sun's path and thewind as integral elements to the work. Why is this use of naturalelements interesting for you?

Perhaps for the simple reason that this is the world we live in, the space we inhabit. These elements are life and it feels right that they are integral to my work, the light and breath of my installation. My experience of being at Headlands was so incredibly influenced by the surrounding landscape, the wild Headlands wind blew through 90% of my days during the 3 month residency, whipping my hair about my face, pummelling my skin, cracking my lips… ignoring the presence of the wind would have seemed strange. I work in a very site sensitive way, the things I experience inform the decisions I make about my work comes together and also in this case how it falls apart.

You talk about habitat and our relationship to it, what do youthink is the experience of a viewer coming to the installation for the first time? Do you seek to create a sense of habitat? The natural and unnatural combining as with our own habitats?

Yes I think so, creating an experience which differs to how we usually find things in our daily life. I’m fascinated by how we relate to the environment we inhabit, so this exploration in space is perhaps an extension of this concept of exploration, what we find how we feel, what we perceive and what we do or seem to do automatically as a pattern or as a predictable outcome. Which might also differ to what we do instinctively although there is a lot of crossover and our interpretation of such things seems blurry at best. I’m interested in the hazy area, the contradiction, the cultural blind-‐spot between deep intuition and newly or more superficially formed habits, in terms of how humans respond to their locality and the resonating impact these actions might sustain. I feel a deep sense of connection to world around me, guided by intuition. The answer to your question may not be so clear or direct; but the crux of my interest intersects and poses visual questions around our tenuous relationship to the natural word, referencing and critiquing our material existence and how we consume and dispose.

'To be with you' features two kinds of natural elements, thepredictable (the path of the sun) and the unpredictable (the windblowing through the gallery). What motivated you to chose thoseelements in particular?

Well actually although it might have seemed predictable I found the effects caused by path of the sun by accident. At Headlands there were wonderful dinners prepared for the artists, so I was not often in my studio at sunset as it coincided with our collective dinnertime. Of course I knew the windows faced west to the setting sun -‐ however I had no notion of the intensity of the sun on the yarn structure until one evening towards the end of installing,


when I returned to my studio unexpectedly at sunset, I was struck by the blazing gold light which appeared to channel in perfect alignment; settling on the thread, causing it glow with vibrant flare echoing the rich fiery tones in a way I could never have imagined. I was so excited by it that I was determined to finish the installation by sunset the following evening and document it. As for the wind -‐ the fragility of the work was something I was aware of from the beginning, but the direct involvement of the wind was also in some ways found by accident. I was into the third day of hanging the yarn structure when a fellow artist yelled “Hello” outside my closed window. I climbed down the ladder and opened my window just a little so I could lean out and converse -‐ within seconds the Headlands wind had blown in and swept up an entire section of thread-‐work. In that moment I knew this was something quite special, that the wind would be the end of this piece. I was also interested in how the wind echoed the movement of the ocean and the local proximity to the coastline, of the wind constantly shifting the of topical patterns of land and sea, bringing that motion and flow into my installation and documenting the movement of the bags was like watching an underwater scene, there was this circular motion akin to swirling movement in gyres.

Apart from your use of the natural, man made waste and inparticular rubbish bags, has been a continuous feature in your work.What was it about the bags in particular that drew you to working with them? Are their aesthetics as important as what they symbolise?

I like to make full use of each material’s unique properties (sculpturally and aesthetically) as well as employ historical, cultural, and environmental resonances -‐ the rubbish bag fascinates me because it is a receptacle for waste, it represents a failing system, everything we put in inside it is somehow magically disconnected from our being -‐ it ’s a flawed process -‐ the end product of our material life. I’m fascinated by this missing link -‐ how can we experience things differently to unlock new potential? How can we understand our culture of waste? I have become possessed by the action of fill ing the bags with light and air, spinning and catching the wind like a whirling dervish, like the gyration of the oceanic currents -‐ locking sacred air inside, adding my breath to the inflating structure. The sculptural forms of the flaccid and inflated rubbish bag interests me in equal measure as the transformative mingling of light and air. There is something very different about a rubbish bag when it is not stuffed with the waste of everyday life. Perhaps I am questioning what is it that we really throw away from our material world? The aesthetic research and obssessive studying of various rubbish bags, bins, dump sites and transfer stations in different parts of the world influences the way I work, just as much as the how the place my work inhabits informs the inclusion of other elements and new rituals in process.


I am interested in your relationship with the waste materials youuse, they hold so much possibilities to make interesting objects, youare able to play with form and colour using them, yet they are waste.

You have negative or positive associations with your materialafter having worked with it.

The contradiction is implicit. There is never negative or positive, there is always both, all and everything at once.

'The Waste Whisperer' creates some fairly unusual images-‐ a smalldog trailing a horse laden with waste bag balloons -‐ you don't see that every day! Those elements of the ridiculous have featured in previous works of yours before such as 'Müll Ballon Wolke Kanal Projekt', do you feel there is a different reaction from the viewer to works such as these? How important to you is keeping the fun in contemporary art?

I am a very playful person by nature so of course it is intrinsic in my art practice; I also feel that humans learn through play, it is how we make patterns, how we grow, discover, fail, learn… so the playful qualities in my work signify this quest for knowledge, this insatiable appet ite for new theories -‐ i t ’s a h ighly experimental and unrestricted way of working, play is way of pushing the limits of my art practice.

For me many pieces of your work seem to invoke a sense ofadventure, 'The Waste Whisperer' has a Don Quixote quality to mesomehow, ‘Müll Ballon Wolke Kanal Projekt ’, adventuring down the river and your work in Rajasthan all seem to have elements of grandjourneys, is that a feeling you seek to create in your performativework?

I feel this relates to my deep intuitive instinct to find new ways; in a sense the journey is the process, is the work. How we do things being impossibly connected to the end result -‐ to me processes of art and life are critically interwoven, through action and experience I am exploring this dysfunctional relationship between human beings and the environment.

As an artist who works both in installation and performance do youfeel that your installation work tends to keep an aspect of theperformative somewhere within it?

Yes always, I think it ’s been a progression of ways of thinking and expression. My work is incessantly trying to escape, to move beyond its l imits, whether it be the precarious interaction with the surrounding environment, or the air seeping out of the inflated rubbish bags, or the wind that whisks the bag away, or the tactile qualities in the work begging interaction -‐ it seems the work has a


l ife of its own, this activated response has propelled my installation into performative and participatory directions.

From a balloon adorned horse to fairy lights and dust bins, mixingthe magical and the real is a common element in much of your work.Does this come from a want to transform elements of waste intosomething special? In some ways -‐ perhaps waste is magical already?

If used intelligently waste can be fuel, compost, new beginnings -‐ there is magic already there. But yes, in a sense I am playing with the “magic” of the starry sky the power of wind and sun, the notion of conjuring or spiriting waste away, with the magic of touch, light, sound... But actually all of this is very real; the material reality of my work belies interpretation. Maybe it brings us back to exploring hidden contradictions…

Bright colour shines out of your work. Why are you attracted tocolour? Would monochrome ever hold an interest for you?

I don’t like to rule anything out. However, my practice seems to accumulate colour, I find myself very compelled by how colour and light filter our perception. Colour punctuates my vision; it makes me pause, lingering on some detail... so this way of looking is reflected in how I create. Often I am working with one colour at a time, at least for now -‐ it ’s infinitely more likely that I will slip into the rainbow instead of the oil slick, or should I say the rainbow reflected in the oil slick. I am drawn to the colour of things as I find them; in my own neighbourhood we have bright yellow and orange rubbish bags bulging and bundled alongside royal blue bins with bright yellow lids.

ISSUE 10 TRIBE MAGAZINE 63Jess John


EMILY ROSE


“I was unconsc ious ly and desperately try ing to hold on to something

prec ious and th is something was the present ,” T ina Barney.

My photographs are an invest igat ion into the inexorable pass ing of t ime.

I bel ieve emotions attached to th is concept are something that i s

universa l ly exper ienced, and whether i t be through a fa i lure to mainta in


a person, p lace, or era, the real i ty that u l t imately everything moves on,

changes, or d ies i s real ised.

I have come to bel ieve that the prel iminary reason for my picture tak ing

can be expla ined through an attempt to hold onto to what i s now. I th ink

a general anxiety about the future p layed a part in spark ing my interest

in photography and is certa in ly s igni f icant when consider ing the


motivat ion behind th is ser ies . The concept of being able to hold and v iew a

p icture, an exact miniature repl ica of a real l i fe moment years after i t has

occurred, i s st i l l one that I f ind incredibly surreal , despite the

convent ional i ty of photography in modern day society. I t i s th is idea of the

preservat ion of a moment and what i t may communicate at a later date that

I f ind part icular ly interest ing.


Through the explorat ion of my fami ly ’s h istory I d iscuss what i t i s to lose the

past and in turn what one has just exper ienced as the present . I

photographed in areas that are re levant , e i ther where my fami ly has l ived or

where they are from, the inter ior locat ions are speci f ica l ly the houses that

they previous ly inhabited. However, I th ink as much as these images project

a melanchol ic sense of loss , through the merging of past and present and a

layered photographic technique they a lso commend the beauty of the

photographic process in general .

emilyrose21.tumblr.com


Christine Vescuso

christine-‐vescuso.com


Jon’s Grandad

(Part 2)


Kenny Knight & Peter DaveyThe Honicknowle Book of the Dead is a refleceon of life on the fringes of society, popular culture and the innocence of childhood.

I placed myself into the works of Kenny Knight by constantly re-‐reading his poems and allowing myself to wander around the areas of Plymouth that are referenced throughout his works, allowing them to give up their ghost and reveal their hidden secrets for me to then capture, refleceng the past but maintaining the present. This idea of becoming part of the ritual, manners and customs of Kenny’s poems allowed me to capture the hidden landscape in space and eme. It’s this idea of looking and using the imaginaeon to find odd and strange things that fascinates me, of finding the unusual and unnoeced of the subconscious mind, allowing the images and words to create their own narraeves. Like lepidopterists, we are both voyeurisec poets, constantly in states of flux -‐ our memories always in juxtaposieons with words and imagery.

It gives me great pleasure to announce that the project has now organically adapted into a photographic poetry exhibieon called The Honicknowle Book of the Dead which will be shown at the Pipe Gallery in Plymouth stareng 16th of November. There will be a talk by Jason Hirons, readings from A Curious Shipwreck by Steve Spence and readings from The Honicknowle The Book of the Dead.

Nov 30th, the final night, will feature Andrew Brewerton, Steve Spence, Norman Jope, Sandra Tappenden and Kenny Knight, Anthony Caleshu, Tim Mills, as well as German and French Surrealist Poetry.

Peter Davey


Guthrie to Ginsberg

All those old troubadourswho wanted to be folk singerslike Woody Guthrie,singing songs aboutworking the cafes and barsall along the waterfrontsix strings and a suitcaseof borrowed mythologiesplaying the coversof a previous generationone eye on freedomone eye on the rainbowand all those hobo shoeswho wanted to travelfrom one end of the sunsetto the other.Who closed their doorsevery morningand opened themagain at night,to sleep in the sameold bed of dreamslike stay-at-home Jack Keroaucs.Who never went any furtherthan the railway stationto watch fossilised-trainshaul romance and adventurethrougha haze of primal smokeFrontierstman of a kindOne eye on the worldOne eye on the tableAnd all those blacksmithsWho wanted to be beat poets Like Allen Ginsberg, Gregory Corso,Lawrence Ferlinghetti,at a time when I was a young manand you were a young man,growing up in sunflower backyardsin the fifties and the sixtiesof the twentieth century.One eye on the girl next door.One eye on America


Skinny

When I die bury me in Woodland Woodunderneath that treewhere we once undressedin the dirt of multiple autumnor dangle me discreetly in chainsfrom Blackie Bridgewhere I’ll conduct the river into a song:the dead waving to the livingthrough the medium of Ernesettle Creekevery time the train rumbles on its wayto Calstock, or back.Inter me in the dungeons down in Knowle Fortwhich I thought at an early age was a castlewhere the Knights of the Round Table slept.This was before the middle agesand the middle classes were invented,before the coffee table entered the charts of popular cultureon the left wing of Tony Benn’s living room.or lay me underneath my favourite street corneron the Crownhill Road at West Park,where I hung around for a year or twosomewere between paper boy and puberty.When I die I’ll apply for housingin the Happy Humping Grounds and dream of our reunion in a double bed.If I get as far as the afterlifeI’ll try to get it twinned with Honicknowle,but knowing my luck I’ll get reincarnatedlong before I cross over the Border into St. Budeaux.And nine months later I’ll make a comebackin the lands of the dead,in a little cul-de-sac somewhere south of Woolaton Grove,where the orchards growand the nightingales raise their families.I know what I want to be when I grow up.I want to be six feet two and skinny.


Treehouse

I wanted to go home.I cried and I don’t know why.I was lost and the big city was famous,too famous to know me.I was scared by all the legs.It was like walking through a thick forestwalking on the pavement.The forest was big and I was smalland far too slow to dodgethe trouserbark skirtbark trunks.The trees didn’t have roots, just shoesalthough mostly not muddy.There were even starlings and other birds tapping their beaks on the ground.I’d stop and listen to their songs.It’s easy to forget that collected togetherpeople become a forest.It’s easy to forget, once you’ve grown and become a tree, that you’re just another partof the moving landscape of big forest to someone small.Sometimes I’d imagine these trees;pin-striped and other varieties, dancing together to music they heard on the radio,dancing like real trees dance to the lazy rhythmsof thundercane and tornadosong.I like the weather when it was raining, even then.I wanted to explore the world but was restrictedto the margins. I was too young to be trusted with an atlas. I always lost gloves.I wanted to fall in love and bruise my legs.Buttercups and dandelions hated me.I spent half of my childhood laughing at televisionsand the other half staring, through windowsfrom claustrophobic classrooms of cold brick.I was frightened by unknown things.I gradually grew tall.I became addicted to cigarettes after I gave up toys.I don’t wear short trousers anymoreeven though I have nice legs.I was born in the fifty first autumn of the century I now live in a Treehouse of my own.

ISSUE 10 TRIBE MAGAZINE 103Words: Kenny KnightPictures: Peter Davey


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