fabergemonkey

detail

One of my greatest pleasures in life is noticing detail.

Have you ever been sitting at a table, drinking your coffee, biting into your cake, and just noticed the detail?

The simple but elegant working of the table leg.

The swirl on the icing of the carrot cake.

The hint of chocolate in the flavour of the coffee.

The pattern on the table cloth.

I once sat in a boat, in the middle of the Indian Ocean, for 15 minutes examining the chair I was seated upon. It was handmade (as was the boat). It was simple (as was the boat). Yet the maker, for no reason than that he or she could, had carved small, patterns into the chair, obscurely and without fanfare. The blue of the sky and the ocean was beyond beautiful, but the very human touch on the chair fascinated me.

The incomparable Taj Mahal, the countless temples of Bhaktapur and the immensity of the Sagrada Familia. Stand there, in awe at the creativity of humanity, drinking in the vista with eye and mind. Go in closer, until left with only the detail; the intricate and delicate carvings, the bombastic designs, the minute choices in the shade and colour of the marble and stone.

Details are often invisible, often disregarded and overlooked. Yet, for me, it is often these touches that speak more of the endeavour and creativity of the craftsmen and women involved, those countless small moments of inspiration that add up to something more.

So I try to remember the details within the whole, to run my eyes along the curve of this, the straight of that; to trace and race along patterns and carvings and painted lines; to feel beneath my fingertips the texture of stone or cloth or wood; to smell and taste all the subtleties amongst the entirety of the flavour; to hear the timbre of a bell, to listen to the flapping of prayer flags as their colours dance madly to the wind.

I like to think of these details, of the effort and care behind them, and of the natural ones, where the world has conspired to exhibit an endless ocean of detail, say, in something as ‘mundane’ as a field of grass. I like to think of the pleasure the craftsperson had in a job well done, whether it is the intricate frame of a window, or the little crunch of nuts in a muffin, or the haunting sound of an 1832 cello played well.

I like to hunt the detail, whether it is in my writing or in my photography. I love to find it, explore it, experience it. For me, detail is as important as the whole and always will be.

hard

I am well aware that my blog has languished a bit of late, particularly over the last two weeks.

There are reasons for this; namely a combination of my inherent laziness, said laziness being kicked into touch by the NaNoWriMo challenge, writing for isca media and iwalkdevon and various other factors too minor to mention (well, except the critical factor that I am all too often running out of cake).

The above, combined with the hell that is work, has run my creative and mental energies ragged, reducing them to mere shadows of themselves. They are concentrated elsewhere, and thus this little bolthole of mine languishes.

I can, however, say one thing. Writing is hard. It is not just sitting there and bashing out the words. It requires thought, more thought, planning, inspiration, creativity and plenty of mental energy. And masses and masses of self-discipline. Looking around the twitterverse and blogosphere will attest to this, many a writer, accomplished or otherwise, battling day by day to put enough words to paper. Hats off to you, I am only just beginning to understand the effort and cost of such endeavour.

This is the field I want to enter, this is the world that excites and interests me, that makes my day bearable. Like my other love, photography, there is nothing like crafting something you can be proud of, with care, attention and hard work. All artists, musicians, photographers, writers, dancers, etc live through it, the cycle of grind and graft, slowly shaping the end result, learning and adapting as they go.

This is where I am, somewhere near the beginning of this cycle, marching onwards with hope and determination (and cake) towards a goal that I can only just perceive and quantify.

It is difficult. It is frustrating. It is draining and painful and tedious. Yet it is also enlightening and enjoyable, full of discovery, full of learning and hope and creativity and energy. It is a perfectly formed microcosm of life, embracing all its problems and all its qualities.

 Despite it all, the ups and the downs, I aim to journey on, and regardless of recompense, learn my craft alongside my fellow journeymen and women, until one day I will be doing what I want to be doing, the way it should be done.

isca media

I am extremely delighted to have been asked to join the creative family of isca media as one of their writer/bloggers.

iscamedia is a media and online publishing collective of  independent freelance journalists, writers, photographers and film-makers. They have a great philosophy and I am very much looking forward to working with some very talented people over the next few months.

isca media are also responsible for iwalkdevon, a lifestyle and arts website and the forthcoming magazine and website for Making Me, a charitable organisation whose aim is the raising of funds for rehabilitation Arts programmes for adults making a new life for themselves after confronting significant challenges. Also forthcoming is their new film magazine Film & Fly, launching in January 2010.

#nanowrimo – day 1

It is not yet 6am on Sunday 1st November 2009, and it is the first day of National Novel Writing Month (#nanowrimo).

I have a vat of delicious Ethiopian Sidamo coffee on the brew. I have music. I have the peace and quiet of the early morning. I have bread baking in the breadmaker behind me, ready to reward me in a few hours time for my efforts. The cat lies beside me on a chair, content to keep me company.

I have characters. I have a plot. I have the ability to do this.

How does it begin?

Ah, yes. With the very first words…

“The boy awoke to both light and darkness, to both warmth and cold.”