The other week, the MA in Creative Writing students went on a visit to New Walk Museum and Gallery Leicester. The students were all asked to write Ekphrastic poems, based on paintings, artefacts or sculptures in the galleries. Rosalind Adam wrote the following poem and accompanying notes about the painting Messiah by Ernst Neuschul:
Messiah?
After Messiah, Ernst Neuschul, 1919
The symmetry of sunbeams
across angular mountains
that hypnotic manic stare
finger on fourth chakra
body proud
yoga honed
the conceit
of youthful talent
before Juden war Verboten
before the daub of swastikas
before the last train out of Prague
Rosalind Adam
Research Notes by Rosalind Adam
This painting is part of Leicester New Walk Museum’s German Expressionist Collection. At first glance I mistook it to be representative of Hitler Youth and the Führer’s hoped-for Aryan race. I looked up Ernst Neuschul on the Leicester Museum website and discovered that ‘an exhibition of his paintings was closed down by the Nazis. Because of his Jewish birth and radical political opinions Neuschul also lost his teaching post’ (http://germanexpressionismleicester.org/leicesters-collection/artists-and-artworks/ernst-neuschul/).
I made notes about his movements before the Second World War, his relocation from Poland during the 1st World War and on to Berlin to study at the Berlin Academy of Arts during the volatile period between the wars.
On the web page about the painting itself, it talks of Neuschul taking an interest in ‘Freudian psychoanalysis, sexual liberation, spiritualism and yoga’ (http://germanexpressionismleicester.org/leicesters-collection/artists-and-artworks/ernst-neuschul/messiah/). The reference to yoga reminded me that his finger was on a chakra point. I checked exactly which chakra this was. The 4th chakra is the heart chakra and some believe it to be the most powerful of all the chakras: ‘It’s at this chakra that we start to see the possibilities of the internal and external world…the world of spirit and form.’ (http://www.2012-spiritual-growth-prophecies.com/chakra-symbols.html). The finger on the heart chakra gave me a lead into the kind of poem that I wanted to write. That and the title that he had chosen for his self-portrait suggested that he was confident in his own talent and had plans and dreams for greater things. He did not know when he completed this painting in 1919 how disastrous things would become for anyone of Jewish birth or political views that would oppose the Naze regime.
Once I had written a rough draft I decided that, as this was about a piece of Pre-WW2 Expressionist Art and as I had begun the poem talking about symmetry, I would attempt to create a symmetrical layout of the stanzas. I removed all the punctuation from the first two stanzas but played around with putting full stops at the end of each line in the final stanza to represent full stops in his, and so many other people’s, lives. This did not work for the poem and so I finally removed all the punctuation.
The website talks about Neuschul getting the last train out of Czechoslovakia. I have always heard of this train being called the ‘last train out of Prague’ and so this is how I referred to it, especially as it has a more satisfying scan.
Monday, 21 November 2016
Monday, 7 November 2016
The Angel of Welford Road
Last week, the MA Creative Writing students went on a field trip to Welford Road Cemetery. Lauren Foster took these photos of a headless angel in the cemetery:
Photo by Lauren Foster
Photo by Lauren Foster
Subsequently, Lauren wrote a spoken-word poem, "The Angel of Welford Road," which you can listen to here.
Wednesday, 2 November 2016
Magical Mystery Tour 2
Here are some more photos of the walk in Leicester which the MA students went on the other week. Earlier photos and a poem were posted here.
"A! U!" (photo by Lauren Foster)
"Colour Coordinated" (photo by Lauren Foster)
"Ferries Not Frontex" (photo by Lauren Foster)
"Ghosts of Footballs" (photo by Lauren Foster)
"Let Me In" (photo by Lauren Foster)
"Lonesome Sandal" (photo by Lauren Foster)
"No money for old rope" (photo by Lauren Foster)
"On the cards" (photo by Lauren Foster)
"Useless roadcone" (photo by Lauren Foster)
"What's that secret you're keeping?" (photo by Lauren Foster)
Wednesday, 26 October 2016
Saffron Lane
(Saffron Lane estate, 1927)
Congratulations to third-year English with Creative Writing student, Yasmin Musse, whose poem, "Saffron Lane," has just been published in the online magazine I Am Not A Silent Poet. You can read it here.
Thursday, 20 October 2016
Magical Mystery Tour
Yesterday, the students on the MA in Creative Writing went on a "magical mystery tour" in Leicester. Here is a kind of scrapbook of some of the strange, banal, familiar, unfamiliar, uncanny things we all saw ...
A row of flats above grey garages
where grey sheets hang
along grey passages
high above the plot where
once unwilling boys,
11+ failures,
were crammed in
crammed with
knowledge they’d never use,
so now they live
in flats above grey garages
and hang their grey sheets
along grey passages.
Pub Wisdom (photo by JT)
Pub Décor - perhaps an allusion to Francis Bacon's Screaming Popes? (photo by JT)
"All property is theft" (Proudhon) (photo by JT)
Frames ready for the wall art (photo by JT)
Very dangerous roofs (photo by JT)
Wall poetry (photo by JT)
Post-alley party (photo by Rosalind Adam)
Aspirations (photo by Rosalind Adam).
Rosalind Adam drafted the following poem, inspired by the last photograph:
Aspirations
A row of flats above grey garages
where grey sheets hang
along grey passages
high above the plot where
once unwilling boys,
11+ failures,
were crammed in
crammed with
knowledge they’d never use,
so now they live
in flats above grey garages
and hang their grey sheets
along grey passages.
Review by Eliot John of "Welcome to Leicester", edited by Emma Lee and Ambrose Musiyiwa
Imagine a puzzle of Leicester… large and colourful and made up of a thousand tiny, intricate pieces. Now, imagine that you’ve just emptied out the contents of the puzzle-box. The image is scattered and broken, beautiful and diverse.
Welcome to Leicester (Dahlia Publishing, 2016) is a Wonderland in poetry form. From the Contents you are transported on a zig-zagged journey through the city, as if you were viewing it from Willy Wonka’s Great Glass Elevator. You jump from ‘Granby Street’ to ‘Western Road’ and back to ‘Highfields’ in only a handful of titles. A few big names also stand out, Richard III is there, of course, and Shakespeare, then there’s Picasso placed nicely in the middle and obviously a number of Leicester City footie fans.
Where do I start? Let’s begin as Alice did in her Wonderland - straight down the rabbit hole. The Leicester equivalent is the notorious carpark, the resting place of an infamous king. 'King Richard of Leicester' is an incredibly witty, fast-paced poem that gives you the low down on Richard and his great discovery. Colin Cook is that teacher you had in school who made history fun and relatable. You would leave class thinking 'Mr. Cook is so strange, isn’t he?' but you’d still be laughing and quoting the poem all the way home.
Rob Gee also mentions ‘some dead bones of a dead bloke in a carpark’ in his piece 'On Leicester Winning Premiership.' This poem is like being a VIP at the Mad Hatter’s tea party, only with Vardy-bombs instead. It perfectly portrays the elation felt within the community after the grand win. It is an adrenaline-filled ode to the club. I challenge you not to tear up by the end.
Julia Wood shows us a different side to Leicester in 'Fosse Park, After Dark.' I wouldn’t dare to read this one after dark. ‘Concrete ghosts’ will haunt your dreams and leave you breathless.
You cannot help but admire Leicester after reading this anthology. It’s an odd mix of poems on history, food, scenery, ethnicity, festivals, sport and more. But hey, that’s Leicester for you.
About the reviewer
Eliot John is a poet and creative writer from Leicester who specialises in spoken word and flash fiction. Eliot regularly hosts burlesque shows in the city for The Leicester Vixens and is renowned for their witty and dark approach to life. Recurring themes that are explored in their work include loss of identity, sexuality, ethics, and the vices of modern culture.
Saturday, 1 October 2016
Induction Day, by Rosalind Adam
An MA in Creative Writing? At my age? What would the other students think? What would they see when they looked at me? After a stern pep-talk from Daughter and a third outfit change I was ready to face them all.
On campus I was surrounded by students wearing red lanyards, bearing their plastic encoded ID. It was over 30 years since I had graduated from Leicester University. There were no plastic encoded cards in those days, never mind lanyards around people’s necks. Doors were opened with keys, metal ones, and our student ID card was just that, a card, folded into a booklet with our photograph stuck inside. I still have my old ones and have been known to use them as after-dinner entertainment. It was the hair. Year 1 shows me with straight, dare I say, boring hair. In Year 2 it had become a little more ruffled but by Year 3 I was sporting a full-blown, shoulder-length, curly perm, chestnut black with a hint of red.
Just the sight of all those red lanyards made me childishly enthusiastic at the thought of sporting my very own. The large hall in the Charles Wilson Building was set up as a temporary ID issue point. From the door I could see members of staff handing over lanyards with the regularity of a car production line but, as I entered the hall, I was stopped by a security guard.
“Can I help you, Madam?”
“I’ve come to collect my ID card.”
“You mean, you’re collecting one for somebody else?”
My eyes narrowed. “No, it’s for me.” I was trying to keep the anger from my voice.
“Oh!” he said. “How…”
“Don’t!” I snapped but he continued anyway.
“How very brave of you. Well done.”
I was lost for a suitably stinging retort.
“I’m doing an MA!” I barked as if that explained it all, as if there was anything that needed explaining. I thrust my head up and strode past him into the hall. I queued at the wrong desk and then, lanyard hanging awkwardly around my neck, tried to exit through the entrance door. It took a coffee, a strong one, for me to half-recover but I was still seething. I needed a good experience to end the day. Would I find it in the library?
I now had my seemingly endless reading list and I asked the librarian how many books I could take out. She checked my ID card and replied, but it was noisy in the reception area and, please remember, I’m not as young as I was.
“Pardon?” I said. “Did you say 14 books?”
“No,” she grinned. “I said 40.”
Forty books! A perfect end to an almost perfect day. MA in Creative Writing? I’m ready for you now.
Rosalind Adam is an MA in Creative Writing student at the University of Leicester. You can read her blog here: http://rosalindadam.blogspot.co.uk/
On campus I was surrounded by students wearing red lanyards, bearing their plastic encoded ID. It was over 30 years since I had graduated from Leicester University. There were no plastic encoded cards in those days, never mind lanyards around people’s necks. Doors were opened with keys, metal ones, and our student ID card was just that, a card, folded into a booklet with our photograph stuck inside. I still have my old ones and have been known to use them as after-dinner entertainment. It was the hair. Year 1 shows me with straight, dare I say, boring hair. In Year 2 it had become a little more ruffled but by Year 3 I was sporting a full-blown, shoulder-length, curly perm, chestnut black with a hint of red.
Just the sight of all those red lanyards made me childishly enthusiastic at the thought of sporting my very own. The large hall in the Charles Wilson Building was set up as a temporary ID issue point. From the door I could see members of staff handing over lanyards with the regularity of a car production line but, as I entered the hall, I was stopped by a security guard.
“Can I help you, Madam?”
“I’ve come to collect my ID card.”
“You mean, you’re collecting one for somebody else?”
My eyes narrowed. “No, it’s for me.” I was trying to keep the anger from my voice.
“Oh!” he said. “How…”
“Don’t!” I snapped but he continued anyway.
“How very brave of you. Well done.”
I was lost for a suitably stinging retort.
“I’m doing an MA!” I barked as if that explained it all, as if there was anything that needed explaining. I thrust my head up and strode past him into the hall. I queued at the wrong desk and then, lanyard hanging awkwardly around my neck, tried to exit through the entrance door. It took a coffee, a strong one, for me to half-recover but I was still seething. I needed a good experience to end the day. Would I find it in the library?
I now had my seemingly endless reading list and I asked the librarian how many books I could take out. She checked my ID card and replied, but it was noisy in the reception area and, please remember, I’m not as young as I was.
“Pardon?” I said. “Did you say 14 books?”
“No,” she grinned. “I said 40.”
Forty books! A perfect end to an almost perfect day. MA in Creative Writing? I’m ready for you now.
Rosalind Adam is an MA in Creative Writing student at the University of Leicester. You can read her blog here: http://rosalindadam.blogspot.co.uk/
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