Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet,
performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal
about town, feminist, freewheeler, and
friend. One day, she is going to be an
ideas curator. Which basically
means, she will tell you
exactly what she thinks.
Until then, you’ll have
to read between
the lines.
fall into the easy of your skin
Somehow, in the very quiet of my house, with all the windows open and the rain coming down, the great acoustic cataclysm of this storm at play, Words or Whatever seems very far away. But it was only a moment ago, surely?
I don’t know that I haven’t said more than enough about the event in its lead up, and now that it’s been and gone, I’d just like to savour the lovely moments and thank those who were able to share in them. Graphic designers, sound engineers and rappers of the world are safe in their chosen careers, but I had a damn good time.
Still, I hope that you might want to explore more of the work from our features, Trudie Murrell, Tiggy Johnson, Rhyll Tonge and Betsy Turcot. Or their amazing supports, Marilyn Roberts, Liz Bennett, Angela Willock and Sally Morris. I’d like to thank Thomas Day for giving us the mic and letting us do things with it. Look out for Words or Whatever in the future, and thanks to Blackstar for opening up their space to us. Go and drink their coffee and say thanks.
You might also want to get a little Infra happy/sad. You might have an enormous screen or an enormous printer and want to see some small poems writ large. You might want to listen to Stef Petrik’s beautiful piece, The Polynesian Triangle again. You may wish to explore the work of Gig Ryan, Andrea Gibson, Eve Libertine, Coco Rosie, Emily XYZ, Lucy Blackman or Mary Oliver, inspired by the incredible words of honour that were shared.
You may wish desperately that Trish, Stefanie, Chloe, Fern, Rhyll, Ahliyah, Sally, Marilyn, Liz, Jo, Angela, Betsy, Trudie, Tiggy, Anna, Rachael or Des had been sitting near you, whispering sweet/evil nothings into your ear. I just wish I could have heard all of their poems. Some things are best savoured in ephemeral ways. Not everything can be archived/achieved, I suppose.
As always, I have to acknowledge that nothing is created alone and my warmest thanks go to Betsy Turcot for being co-collaborator, creatress, conspirator and friend. The next thing she and her partner create is sure to be even more magic.
Wasn’t the sun out just a moment ago?
(with kind thanks/apologies to Zoe Keating but thanks to Angela, Betsy, Sally and Fern)
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Though she would be far too humble to mention it, I think you missed the lovely Anna. She whispered her one-minute peace into my ear last night, which took my breath away.
Well spotted! It was a cast of thousands in the end – so thank you for reminding me… Anna’s poem is also repeated in the zine if you want to check it again…
Wasn’t the sun out just a moment ago? Maybe – or was it the effect of a thousand exploding stars showering us with a radiance of words. Beautiful and a little haunting maybe. . tony
Any zines left over? Would love to check it out.
We have but ONE enormouse MEGAZINE – 6 metres long.
But you can have it at your place, because I don’t even have WALLS that big.
I’m so sorry you couldn’t be there!