When I Think All Hope Has Gone -- R.I.P. Adrian Mitchell

Adrian Mitchell has died. His The Oxford Hysteria of English Poetry is seriously funny:

Then suddenly --- WOOMF --- It was the Ro-man-tic Re-viv-al And it didn't matter how you wrote, All the public wanted was a hairy great image. Before they'd even print you You had to smoke opium, die of consumption, Fall in love with your sister Or drown in the Mediterranean (not at Brighton).

And in the mid-1990s, Mr Mitchell suddenly found himself credited as co-writer of a big UK hit - The Bluetones and their lovely "Bluetonic" single - as they quoted a snippet of his poetry..

Rest in peace, Adrian Mitchell. I've always really, really liked you.

The Waiting Game

The other day our Xbox 360 started flashing red lights at us. So now I'm waiting for a UPS carrier to come and pick up the Xbox, ship it across to Germany and hopefully fix the faulty components. Other Half has been petting his new acquired copy of Fable 2 in a very forlorn way ever since the console went boo-boo on him. I hate waiting around for service-people, by the way. This morning I have been ripping back a scarf and knitting a bit on a jumper.

Remember, I mentioned working on the Lush and Lacy Cardigan? Well, I finished the back wondering if I would ever wear something that feminine. Then I started the sleeves and decided that ruffled sleeves were not my style and thus opted for plain sleeves. Although I followed the pattern (sans the ruffle), the sleeve didn't fit me. I would need to recalculate the sleeve cap, frog half the back to redo the shaping and .. it wasn't going to happen with a cardigan I wasn't even sure I was ever going to wear. The Lush and Lacy Pattern is henceforth relegated to my plastic folder (since it's my second time trying to make it and it's clearly not happening).

So now I'm knitting a top down jumper of my own design which I know I will wear. It has an interesting neckline which I hope I'll be able to pull off making. It is inspired by two things: a certain Betty Jackson coat (I just love her strong, bold lines) and 1930s fashion.

Seeing as Christmas is upon us, let's look at "Stuff Ms Karie Would Really Like, but Which She Probably Won't Find Under Her Tree" (sounds catchy, doesn't it?): + Trellick Skirt kit + A necklace by crazy for ruthie. I met her at a craft fair and was blown away by her design and craftmanship. Ruth's Etsy shop's full of pretties, but it's her more personal, graphic necklaces that I really love. + Scottish Printed Books by Antony Kamm. + The Modern Recess Dress (although I would change the buttons and the buckle). + A bag of Aran Troon Tweed in Violet. I have just swatched this yarn and it is delish. And I only have one ball. Boo.

Still no UPS carrier bloke. Time for more coffee and maybe a little mince pie..

Christmas Time (Almost)

I smell like a smoked sausage. Sunday afternoon was spent outside in our garden carolling, eating mince-pies, drinking mulled wine and huddling in front of little wood burners. It was very, very enjoyable and I hope it will turn into a tradition as it was a good way to celebrate Winter solstice begin the Christmas holidays. I was asked by some of my Scottish friends how Danes celebrate Christmas.

The most important difference is the actual date: we celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve. Most of December 24 will consist of preparing food, watching From All of Us (dubbed into Danish), attending church and then around 6pm sit down for the traditional meal. Obviously the meal will differ slightly from family to family, but we usually have roasted pork with crackling, roasted duck with prune and apple stuffing, caramelised potatoes, boiled potatoes, gravy, stewed red cabbage and halved apples with redcurrant jelly. David is a huge fan of the Danish Christmas dessert: ris ala mande: it is basically cold rice pudding mixed with vanilla-infused whipped cream and chopped almonds. It is served with hot cherry sauce. The pudding has a tiny game attatched to it: You put in one whole almond and whoever finds the almond gets a special present. After the meal people gather around the decorated Christmas tree, the (real!) candles are lit and you dance around it singing a mixture of psalms, traditional folk songs and a few recent Christmas songs. One of my personal favourites is the psalm Julen Har Bragt Velsignet Bud (Christmas Has Brought Us Blessed News). And then it is time for presents.

I think one of the biggest cultural differences for me is how the time up to Christmas is spent. In Denmark I was used to people gathering to bake or make candy together. You'd get together with friends or family to make decorations out of paper, branches and clay. The four Sundays leading up to Christmas would be marked by lighting candles and exchanging small presents. I have marked these traditions, of course, but it feels a bit odd when you are the only one excited by weaving Christmas hearts (such as the ones you can see in the photo of our tree), thinking about baking (which I actually didn't manage this year) or marking the Christmas Sundays. I have delighted in following the Christmas advent calender aimed at Danes living abroad, mind.

Tomorrow's blog will be all about knitting. Consider yourself warned. For now, let me leave you with a collection of the worst Christmas songs ever created. Enjoy.

It Was (Not) A Very Good Year

I'm sitting here being a touch introspective and thinking back upon the year that is almost over and done with. 2008 wasn't really the best year I've ever had. Yes, I met some lovely people this year. I found myself a new creative outlet. I had a very, very enjoyable summer holiday in Scandinavia. But all in all, this wasn't a very good year. Too many problems, too much hassle, too many worries and so forth.

So, here's hoping for a much better 2009. And since BBC4's doing another round of programming with me in mind (i.e. an entire weekend's worth of swing music!) here's Frank Sinatra singing "It Was a Very Good Year" (from Sinatra at the Sands (1966) - a classic album with Count Basie's Orchestra).

Visual Words

In my handwritten note I alluded briefly to the idea of handwriting possessing "presence" and printing having only "absence". In its infancy printing was known as "artificial writing" - the implication being that handwriting = natural, printing = artifice, obviously. I once messed about with ideas concerning printing and how English as a literary language emerged post-Gutenberg (and Gutenberg's cronies now often relegated to footnotes): poets like George Herbert would write poems which use the relative fixity of the printed page etc etc etc. Some people hold forth that the digital age provides an even greater absence between the Scribe and the Word - a form of hyper-absence which forms an even wider gap between word and meaning. I suspect my own hesitation towards e-books must spring from a peculiar awareness of this aporia. I think. Blah, blah, blah.

And so I came across Des Imagistes: An online version of Ezra Pound's anthology of Imagist poetry dating back to 1914. Contributors include well-known modernists like James Joyce and William Carlos Williams as well as the less-remembered (but equally important) Richard Aldington and F.S. Flint.

The website was created as part of a course at the MIT and the project team explain their choice of design:

This website uses a font stack of "Futura, Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif." Futura was designed between 1924 and 1926 by Paul Renner, and while Renner was not associated with the Bauhaus school of design, Futura is frequently used in connection with Bauhaus-related topics. The Bauhaus school was founded two years after Des Imagistes' publication, and its aesthetics harmonize well with the nature of imagistic poetry

Of course I thought of Typesetting The Waste Land which also explore the intersections of poetry, modernism, typography and the internet. I spotted a typo quite quickly and I am certainly not sure that the designer needed to highlight specific passages ("The Burial of the Dead") or render certain elements in different colours ("A Game of Chess"), but as the design pulls away from both the classic Faber and Faber layout (I'd scan a few lines but as per usual my copy's completely ruined) and the standard anthology versions (wherein its typesetting follows all the other texts and you get footnotes at the bottom of the page), it does strikes me as potentially interesting. I just wish the designer had chosen a less .. interpretative .. layout.

In case this sort of thing tickles your fancy - i.e. modernist poetry and print culture - let me recommend Jerome J. McGann's Black Riders: The Visible Language of Modernism (and I wouldn't object to getting it for Christmas, sigh).

Handwritten