Friday, August 5, 2022

Meet the narrator!

Anybody ever thought about the voice behind the audiobook?  Here I caught hold of one such a person and I questioned them about their rather special talent. 

When your audiobook is in the hands of somebody good, it's fabulous.  I confess that if I don't like the voice, then I can't listen to it.

Here is one of the best in the business, being interviewed especially for MIE.

Kat Harrison.

                                                  

  1. Kat, how to you deal with the mechanics of reading? 

The mechanics of reading when you have two young kids at home is always fun.  Bless their hearts they have developed a patience for having to be quiet when mum is working thanks to the pandemic. It’s definitely easier now they are older but often it comes down to reliable and loving babysitters who allow me enough space and quiet to get the work done.

 Otherwise there’s always a random blooper of them suddenly giggling or causing mischief!

 

How many read throughs of a book do you need before you start the process?

I love this question! So when it comes to how many reads, if time is a luxury I do three, first one for fun, to get the joy of being the reader. The second one to understand it - I go through and triple check pronunciations and definitions, and the third is when I start recording to play with it.

But there’s been occasions where time has been of the essence and the first read has been the recording, checking definitions and pronunciations as I go. It can be a slower recording process as I inevitably need to re-do lines to correct the tone or who is speaking but still seems to be effective - touch wood no one seems to have noticed which was a third read and which was a first!


Have you ever thought that your voice is just not suitable for that book, or is it your job to make the voice fit? 

As for when do I ever say no, there’s really only two reasons for that, either

a)    I really just don’t have the time and wouldn’t want to keep an author hanging; or

b)    it’s material I don’t believe has any artistic merit or is written by someone as charming with such a shining moral character as Bo Jo.  If it goes against my own morals or principles it’s a no….. although I’m now imagining reading said book with a scathing tone of sarcasm and that sounds Delightful!!

I’ll rarely put myself forward or be asked to do something that doesn’t fit my voice because it is such an essential part of the job I think.  For instance I’d never be asked to read for a book where the main character is a male… if nothing else it would just be exhausting trying to keep that up.


How much input does the author have? 

I have found myself in an interesting situation right now, as I’m narrating a book where the central characters are Scottish/Indian.  I myself being a cis white Scottish female I did discuss with the author if she might be better finding a narrator with this background.  In the end as I’d narrated for her before she felt more comfortable going with a voice she trusted and in the current economic climate I couldn’t really afford to say no to the work. Thankfully the author agreed wholeheartedly that the voice should be Scottish and not an attempt at an Indian accent.  So I sincerely hope no one in the community will find it offensive.  It’s a tricky one when it’s voice but I strive where possible to send work suitable for minority performers where it should go. I’d be lying if I said this one wasn’t eating at my conscience a little though. 

It really depends on the author how much input they have when working with me.  I’m happy to work on my own steam but I do encourage authors to listen back and make notes of any changes they would like in terms of delivery or intonation.  Authors will usually give me a bit of a synopsis about the characters or how they think they should be and some even give me a ‘cast list’ of who they imagine would play them in a movie to give me an idea of the ‘voice’ of each character.  I’ll never forget trying to do my best Russel Crowe!

Do you ever read a book with a view to narrating it and the author has written a character with the most difficult accent to do? I believe Liverpudlian Irish is a very hard accent. 

I LOVE working with accents.  Accent is rooted in habitual behaviour so it’s essential in understanding the character overall.  Again it’s very rare that I’d be asked to narrate something where the main character is not Scottish because it’s so easy these days to find someone with the accent you need.  I do get to play with the odd side character though and funnily enough again, in the book I’m working on now, ‘What I Hid From You’ by Heleen Kist has a couple of American accents in there.  I can only pray I haven’t completely butchered them!

I know Heleen, Dutch/ Glaswegian,  she has an interesting accent all of her own! 

I do tend to pick up accents when I’m with people, but I also just drop into random voices in casual conversation at the best of times.  All I can say is it is never done with the intention to make fun of, it’s always just from a love of the different placement of sounds.  I’m basically still a child and get paid to play!


What happens when you come across a line that’s so funny you know you’re going to snigger?

I just outright snigger!! haha.  There’s a ton of fun bloopers on my computer somewhere.  Sometimes it’s appropriate to give the laugh to the character / narrator and sometimes I have to pretend I’m an adult for a moment and get through it seriously.

How long does a recording session last for? 

Again it really depends on the text.  For instance I have 7 and a half hours of finished audio produced so far and this was edited from over 30 hours of recorded audio.  I’d say the average novel would take a full working week to record.   I can’t speak to other narrators of course, this could be down to my lack of experience, I only have a few audiobooks out there so far, or it could be down to my perfectionism, where I’ll redo a line to death to find the version I’m happy with.

In one of Simon Brett’s books Charles Paris is recording a book and he’s always being stopped for putting in intonation in to the chapter headings. Is it difficult to do the parts of the books that are non narrative?

Saying the chapter titles or numbers is always a little strange but I’ve found I’ve kind of developed a ‘non narrative’ voice that I slip into without really thinking about it.  There are times where I think that needs work though.  I’ll definitely obsess over that now I’ve thought about it, eek!


When I was chatting to you, you made a comment about speed, and that some people speed up your narration to get through the book quicker. Do you think these people should be allowed to vote? 


Caro this is why I love you, you have such a scathing wit! I mean each to their own right?  Personally it affronts me that anyone would speed up a fiction audiobook.  I can slightly understand the need for educational textbooks but for a story! It feels like madness to me.  The author has poured their heart and soul into creating these moments for their readers to enjoy.  Not all narrators think about creating atmosphere and tone with their read, many narrators are, I’ve found, encouraged to be quite technical and dry - which allows for this speeding up when listening.  I often get praised for my ability to emote and create those atmospheres with the appropriate pace and rhythm dictated by the writing but the same reviews will slate me for being impossible to speed up.  To those reviewers I just give a sly grin and think ‘Good! You will enjoy this story at the pace it was designed to be consumed!’  It should be an experience!! Not something you have to get through as quickly as possible.  So yeah, let them vote, but for the love of God someone introduce them to something they actually want to savour, I can only imagine what they are actually listening to that warrants x2 speed.

 

What happens when you trip over your tongue? Or, come across a word that is difficult to say? 


I create a Blooper Reel that will make me and the author giggle - occasionally that will include a curse to the author themselves for their writing! Seriously though tripping over your tongue is more common than you’d think.  When I’m teaching Voice Over and Narration I always tell me students to just pause, take a beat and go again from the beginning of the sentence.  Without that pause you end up colouring the line with your frustration or amusement and nobody wants that.  It happens so often you just kind of get used to the process after a while.  Though a good vocal warm up can really help reduce the amount of times it happens.

 

Lastly, as an expert in this sort of thing, what advice would you give to writers who are doing a reading at events. 

 I’d say try to relax and know that nobody is there to judge you.  Not all writers feel the  most confident in reading aloud for people and I find that a great shame. People want to hear what you have to say.  Take a deep breath and ENJOY the story.  You wrote it so hopefully you still like it!  Whenever anyone speaks about anything with passion you can’t help but listen.  So let your love for the story come through. We tell stories to connect with each other, to remind ourselves of that shared human experience - so don’t try imagining the audience in their underwear for heavens sake! Instead take a moment to just connect with them before reading.  Each person there has their own worries and anxieties and have lived their own messy lives - focus on appreciating sharing a moment together and the story should take care of the rest.  A bit sappy perhaps, but more practical advice on the technical aspects will cost ya!

Kat Harrison
Actor / Voice Over / Director / Acting Coach

website:  www.katharrison.co.uk

Thanks Kat, always nice to hear from you!

Caro

Thursday, August 4, 2022

Lifeblood

 Michael - Thursday

It’s been said that water is the lifeblood of Africa. In the south and north, it’s a precious resource. Everyone knows of the importance of the Nile in prehistoric times. Even today, there is conflict over the water of the Blue Nile with various countries concerned about dams and water usage upstream from them. Egypt, Ethiopia, and Sudan are all involved. Equatorial Africa is better supplied with water as a result of better rainfall supplying huge permanent rivers such as the Congo.


Blue Nile Falls, Ethiopia

In southern Africa, the Kavango River is a crucial resource. The river rises in the high country of Angola (which normally gets good summer rains) and flows through Angola across the Caprivi strip of Namibia and into Botswana. In Botswana it is a crucial resource for the people and wildlife from Shakawe in the north all the way to the magnificent Okavango Delta which is a huge floodplain in the central Kalahari Desert. The water never reaches the sea. It takes nearly six months to reach its maximum flood extent in the Kalahari—100 miles across and down to the town of Maun in the south—and attracts animals and birds from all the neighbouring areas. The herbivores come for the water and fresh green vegetation and the predators come for the herbivores. The water spreads into a network of streams and channels surrounding lush islands which even sport palm trees. The environment is nothing short of miraculous.

The Delta from the air

For reasons connected with salt content in the water and the geology of the region, the water really is the lifeblood of the Okavango. The Delta needs the annual floods to maintain what is actually quite a fragile ecology.

Map from A Deadly Covenant
 showing the area

Namibia and Botswana are both arid countries and are seriously short of water. About twenty years ago, Windhoek, Namibia’s thriving capital city, proposed running a pipeline from the Kavango where it crosses the Caprivi to supply the city. The project was shelved among heated protests from Botswana and environmentalists, but the final decision was probably rather a matter of cost that ecology. (It’s about 500 miles from Windhoek to the Kavango.)

Lions napping near the river

However, people from Shakawe in the north all the way to the Okavango in the south utilize the water in a variety of ways. Also the rains have been less generous in Angola in some recent years and the floodwater reaching Maun has been well below average in those years. How all this will play out with global warming, one can only imagine. I advise a visit to the Okavango sooner rather than later.

When Stan and I were thinking about themes and settings for our new book, A Deadly Covenant, to be released in North America in a few weeks’ time, we wondered what sort of effect and reaction there would be to a water project to irrigate some of the Kalahari area somewhat back from the river. Fortunately for the Okavango in reality nothing significant is likely to obtain government approval because of the importance of the Okavango to tourism in the country. But sometimes there are ways around barriers when there is money and pride involved. The characters in A Deadly Covenant have both, and a local chief of an area south of Shakawe wants the water project to be his legacy. Not everyone feels the same way. People on both sides of the argument are willing to go to extreme lengths, even murder. Excessive for a battle over water? It’s not just water, it’s lifeblood. 



September events:

 

Launch of A Deadly Covenant

 

Wednesday, 7. 4:30 – 5:30 pm 

Totally Criminal Cocktail Hour at Valley Bookstore

The Zephyr Theatre, 601 N Main St, StillwaterMN 55082

Find out more about the event HERE.

 

Friday, 9, 1:45 – 2:30 pm 

BOUCHERCON Panel:

The Mystery of Multiple Points of View and Multiple Timelines (Writers use dual perspectives/multiple narrators and alternating timelines to tell their stories.)

Marty Ambrose; William Boyle; Mary R. Davidsaver; B.A. Shapiro; Julie Carrick Dalton; Stanley Trollip (Moderator)

Saturday, 10, 11:30 -12:15 pm 

BOUCHERCON Panel:

Under the Sun or Below Zero (You’ve heard of “setting as a character.” Well … what about the weather?  These authors’ works represent a dichotomy of climates where rising temps or bone-chilling cold are just as effective as any villain.)

Alexander McCall Smith; Stan Trollip (Michael Stanley); Catriona McPherson; Jo Nesbø ; Matthew Goldman (Moderator); Caro Ramsay

Thursday, 15, 12:30 – 1:00 pm (UK time) 

Virtual event at the International Agatha Christie Festival

Agatha in Africa

Michael, Stanley and Zimbabwe author Bryony Rheam discuss Agatha Christie’s trip to South Africa and Southern Rhodesia and its connection with her mystery thriller The Man in the Brown Suit.

 

Monday 19, 6:00 pm 

Nokomis Library event

5100 S 34th Ave, Minneapolis, MN 55417 Phone: 612-543-6800

 

Wednesday 21, 6:00 pm 

Thomas St. Angelo Public Library of Cumberland event

1305 2nd Ave, Cumberland, WI 54829. Phone: 715-822-2767

 

Thursday 22, 6:30 pm 

Spooner Library event

421 High St, Spooner, WI 54801 Phone. 715-635-2792

 

Saturday 24, 1200

The Bookstore at Fitger’s

600 East Superior Street, Duluth MN 55802


Tuesday, 27, 6:00 pm 

Launch of A Deadly Covenant at Once Upon A Crime

604 W. 26th Street, MinneapolisMN 5540 Phone: 612.870.3785 Email: onceuponacrimebooks@gmail.com

With Mary Ann Grossman

October events:

 

Saturday 1, 9:00 am – 3:00 pm

Meet us at the Deep Valley Book Festival

Mankato, MN

Free book festival. We’ll be there from 9am to 3pm. The event takes place at the WOW! Zone, conveniently located at 2030 Adams Street in Mankato, just off Highway 14.

 

Thursday 6, 7:00 pm

Barnes and Noble HarMar

2100 Snelling Ave N, Roseville, MN 55113

 

Saturday 8. 

The Poisoned Pen Bookstore

4014 N Goldwater Blvd #101, Scottsdale, AZ 85251 Phone:(480) 947-2974 Toll Free: (888) 560-9919 Email: sales@poisonedpen.com

Stanley joins Barbara Peters on Saturday afternoon to chat about A Deadly Covenant.

 

Friday, 14, 10 am 

Lake Country Booksellers event

4766 Washington Ave, White Bear Lake, MN 55110 Phone: 651-426-0918

 

Saturday, 15, 10:00 am – 5:00 pm 

Twin Cities Book Festival

Minnesota State Fairgrounds, Saint Paul, Minnesota

 

Wednesday, August 3, 2022

The Body In The Well Beside Me--Part Four

Kwei--Wednesday

Chapter 4



(Shutterstock)


 

After I cracked my head falling into the well, I suffered what the neurosurgeons told me was a subdural hematoma. They had taken me to the operating room and successfully evacuated the blood. So, I was fine except a couple issues: first, my gait was off balance, although the neurologist wasn’t completely certain why; second, and this was perhaps the most troublesome—there was a glaring discrepancy in my “cognition,” as they termed it. I thought the year was 1980, but it was really 2022. Both my arms were sore from being jabbed every day, sometimes several times a day, as the doctors ran so many blood tests on me without finding anything to explain the incongruity.

 

Working on getting my balance back was only a matter of physical therapy twice a day in the hospital. That problem was resolving and they thought they might be able to discharge me in a few days. It was my psychological state that was more of a challenge and that had everyone scratching their heads over. Dr. Muscat wasn’t the only psychiatrist who had arrived to examine me. Three others came in to render a second, third, and fourth opinion, and all of them left with puzzled looks on their faces. As for me, I had slowly become less mystified about my situation than they were. I’m a logical kind of guy, and logic told me that I had traveled forward in time from 1980 to 2022—as simple as that. Of course, it wasn’t that simple at all. No one had ever documented time travel in the real world. It was the stuff of fiction. 

 

That I had come from a different era was clear from all the amazing inventions I’d never seen before. The “telephone” practically everyone was using was really a kind of tiny “computer,” I guess, called a cellular or mobile telephone. It could perform tasks other than just send and receive calls—like taking photos, showing movies, and playing games. Dr. Muscat, the psychiatrist, told me that one cellular telephone could store a thousandfold more information than the computers that NASA used to send Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin to the moon in 1969 when I was nine years old.

 

I discovered a bunch of other incredible things, like toilets flushing when you moved away from them. Scared the crap out of me. The computers were nothing like what I was familiar with. In 1980, they had just begun to take off, but in the time between then and 2022, they had developed into something out of this world, some of them so slim you could fit them in a briefcase.

 

Several social workers came through as well to explore my options. One of them, a graying woman with a stern expression, brought a “tablet” with her, which was kind of like the mobile telephone thing but bigger, and when I gave her my address and described what our farm looked like, she went on the tablet and found an area photograph from 1973 that exactly confirmed my account. But then she said, fiercely, “Marcus, you googled this information and now you’re regurgitating it as if you were alive in the 1970s, isn’t that right?” 

            “I what?” I asked.

            “What?” she said, frowning.

            “You said I did something . . .”

            “Regurgitated?”

            “No, the other thing.”

            “Oh. You googled it.”

            “What’s that?”

            She gave me the side eye. “Very funny. Look, everyone is tiptoeing around you asking all these academic questions about if you’re suffering irrevocable brain damage or delusions, but I know what’s going on here. Now, if you want me to help you, you’ve got to quit the charade. Does that make sense?”

            “Not really,” I responded.

            She sighed in resignation. “All right. What I’m going to do is try to get you into a homeless shelter once you leave the hospital, and I’ll work on your ID and social security number, since you don’t have anything like that with you. Are you sure something didn’t drop out of your pocket in the well?”
            “The detective said they didn’t find anything.”

            She stood up. “Very well. I’ll be back in a couple of days. They can’t release you from the hospital until we’ve firmed up your discharge details.”

 

***

 

Four days earlier

 

I was watching the clearest-picture television imaginable in my hospital room when Lamar Ferguson walked in. “Good morning, Mr. Price.”

            “Morning, Detective.”

            He sat on the chair facing my bed. “I wanted to ask your permission to take a DNA sample.”

            “What’s that for?”

            “Well, to rule you out as having anything to do with the death of Slate Thomas, the man in the well beside you.”

            “I’m a little confused,” I said. “How do you mean?”

            “Hard to explain,” Ferguson said, “but suffice it to say that the postmortem suggests there may be foul play involved in his death. So, it would be nice to know that you have nothing to do with it.”

            Well, it would, I thought. “Okay, so what do I need to do?”

            “It’s just an oral swab,” Ferguson said, holding up a plastic bag. “I take a sample from the inside of your cheeks—no pain involved. All you need to do is open your mouth wide.”

 

***

At the week’s staff meeting, Dr. Jeffrey Binomial, the Psychiatry Department head, asked Dr. Muscat to give the group his findings on the puzzle patient, Marcus Price.

            “Well,” Muscat said, “he’s rational, intact, has no auditory or visual hallucinations, paranoid thinking, thought disorder, or delusions of grandeur, reference, or persecution. I suppose one could say that his apparent conviction that he is white when he clearly is not is a delusion of bodily change, which we do see in schizophrenics, of course. However, it’s not that he thinks he’s changing in real time from black to white, so that’s completely atypical.”

            “He’s obviously delusional,” Dr. John Brotman declared, “and I think we need to start him on a small dose of an antipsychotic and watch for his response in the hospital setting.”

            Muscat smoothed back his mop of black hair and frowned. He rarely agreed with Brotman. “I don’t advise that at all,” he said crisply. “In the absence of more symptoms, there’s no place for meds right now.”

            “Aaron,” Brotman spluttered, “you just told us the patient thinks the year is 1980. We’ve ruled out any metabolic disorders with about a million blood tests, and you think the patient doesn’t have thought disorder?”

            “No,” Muscat said bluntly. He didn’t dislike Brotman, he just didn’t care for him. “The other consideration is—”

            “Don’t say it,” Brotman interrupted rudely. “Cerebromorphic Passive Memory Adoption. Not again.”

            “Tone it down, John,” Binomial said gently. 

            “Either CPMA,” Muscat continued, unruffled, “or, as the patient believes, time travel.”

            Brotman leaned back and guffawed. “You can’t be serious.”

            “I’ll remind you that long before we knew about mental health,” Muscat said icily, “Hippocrates thought yellow bile caused mania. I don’t believe he knew about neurotransmitters. Just because we haven’t discovered time travel yet doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

            “All right, look,” Binomial said with finality, “we obviously can’t arrive at a treatment regimen yet for Mr. Price. Aaron, keep visiting him in-house and when he’s released we’ll see if we can continue to follow him in the outpatient setting.”

            The meeting broke, and Muscat returned to his office where his phone rang. It was Detective Ferguson.

            “Doctor, have you come up with anything to explain Mr. Price’s strange behavior?”

            “I can’t say I have,” Muscat replied. “It’s a work in progress. Has something come up?”

            “I’m unable to go into the details,” Ferguson said, “but let’s just say that forensic results have made him a greater person of interest than before.”

            “Enough to arrest him?”

            “I’m sorry, I can’t disclose that.”

            “Very well, Detective. Was there anything else?”

            “That’s it, Doc. Thanks.”

                                                            ***

After a tasteless hospital dinner, I was dozing off in the bed when I heard my name uttered softly. I opened my eyes. “Oh, hi, Dr. Muscat,” I said, sitting up  in some surprise.

            “I’m sorry to disturb you, Marcus,” he whispered, moving closer. “Has Detective Marcus been in to see you?”

            “He was here a few days ago to get the NDA sample.”

            “DNA,” Muscat corrected. “He did an oral swab?”

            “Yeah, that’s right.”

            “You shouldn’t have let him,” Muscat said, “but never mind, it doesn’t matter now. Listen, we need to get you out of here.”

            My eyes widened. “What’s going on?”

            “I think your DNA matched with something on or around the dead man in the well. That means Ferguson is going to be on your trail because he’s itching to make an arrest. But something’s not making sense here, and I don’t believe you’re guilty of anything. You need to get yourself out of this situation before you’re falsely accused.”

            I was panicked. “What should I do?”

            “I want you to see someone called Percival Sellers. He’s a time-travel expert who lives outside Happenstance.”

            “So you believe me about the time travel?” I gasped.

            “I think there’s a good chance you have time-traveled, yes. I’m going to give you Percival’s phone number and . . .” Muscat dug in his pocket. “Take this burner phone--don’t worry about what that means. I’ll show you how to use it to reach Percival. But first, we must get you out of the hospital undetected.”

            “How?”

            Muscat produced a plastic bag. “In here are scrubs, a white jacket, surgical mask, and a surgical cap. Go to the bathroom and change into them now. Oh, and there’s a pair of glasses in there as well.”

            “Okay, okay,” I said, nervous and confused.

            I went to the bathroom and exited transformed. I looked like a doctor. Muscat was arranging the pillows on my bed so that they looked reasonably like me sleeping under the covers.

            “I don’t have any shoes, though,” I whispered.

            “Shit,” Muscat said, clapping his forehead. “Wait right here.”

            He disappeared for couple of minutes and came back with two pieces of blue, fluffy material. “Shoe covers we use in the OR,” he explained briefly, taking off his shoes and handing them  to me. “Put these on and I’ll wear the covers. You look good, but you have to appear more self-confident—arrogant, even. Walk beside me and don’t look at anyone. You don’t need to—you’re a doctor. That’s how we behave. Let’s go.”

            Muscat switched off the light behind us and I strode beside him with as much authority and aloofness as I could manage.

            “Oh, Doctor?” one of the nurses at the station called out.

            “Fuck,” Muscat muttered under his breath. “Keep walking.” 

            He turned to the nurse, who had a brief message for him. He thanked her with a smile, and hurried back to catch up with me. We turned to the right.

            Were going to take the stairway exit ahead,” Muscat said softly. 

            As we approached the exit, one of the elevator doors opened and Detective Ferguson came out. He saw us both and my breath caught. I dropped my head and spun around in the opposite as Muscat quicky confronted Ferguson to block his full view of me. 

            “Detective, I have some news for you,” Muscat said.

            “Really? What’s that?”

            “Can we talk about it in the lounge?”

            Muscat practically pulled Ferguson into one of the family waiting rooms. I turned back and walked quickly to the stairs. Once in the stairway, I began to run down. I had to get to this Percival Sellers guy before Ferguson got to me.

            

                                                                        ~~~

 

            

  

Tuesday, August 2, 2022

Do's and Don'ts Around Hungry Ghosts

 Ovidia--every other Tuesday

Friday 29 July was the first day of the 7th Month of the Chinese calendar and the 'Hungry Ghost Month' covers the following 15 Days to 13th August.

This is a time when the souls of the dead are believed to return from hell to visit. It's also believed that it's the only time of year some of them get to eat and if they don't get fed or feel bored, they'll get up to mischief, so people provide food and entertainments to keep them occupied.

One of the things we're not supposed to do is photograph the offerings--but I made a quick collage just to give an idea of the food offerings on foot paths, under trees, outside shops...


I believe these are intended for random passing spirits. Most offerings for spirits of ancestors and deceased relatives are burned in homes, cemeteries or in the dark red or clear metal bins placed in residential areas. There, families burn hell money and paper offerings of cars, jewellery, televisions and computers.  

There are also big neighbourhood parties with dinners, auctions and stage performances where people and hungry ghosts can dine and be entertained en masse.


And this is a sketch I made of a man at a roadside pop up altar...


It didn't feel right to photograph him, but I was so impressed by the practicality of the set up. Paper money, incense sticks and coils can be bought behind the altar that's all red and gold.


But I wanted to talk about some of the Do's and Don'ts of this time of year. 

1. Don’t make major life  changes (marrying, moving house, major investments) because the energy disruptions can disrupt your judgement and also because there's a chance that some spirits might seize the opportunity to move into your new home/ relationship with you.

2.  Don’t help yourself to the food you see. This can be a contentious point because freegans and animal rights people say in the old times offerings were meant to be taken by the poor and scavenging animals.

3. Don't step on or kick over roadside joss sticks and offerings. There are stories of people who've been dogged by bad luck or bad digestion until they returned to the spot to apologise. If you accidentally knock over something, it's best to say 'Sorry' out loud and walk on.

Which contradicts:

4. Don't answer if you hear strange voices singing or whispering or calling your name when you're out at night. Who these voices are depends on where you are. Along South Buona Vista Road where I used to live, people report hearing and seeing things. It's also a high accident area, near Kent Ridge, where Singapore’s Malay Regiment fought the Japanese in one of the worst battles of WW2. Those who survived were tortured to death. But surprisingly perhaps, the voices aren't hostile. 

I haven't seen them myself but apparently they ask for cigarettes and tell you to appreciate your loved ones.

5. Don't sit or put things on the altar tables. An urban legend says a woman who perched her toddler on the offering table while she prepared her offering panicked when the child got terribly sick. Doctors were unable to find anything wrong till a medium contacted the spirits who told him 'we thought the child was an offering so we took his life force'. (the child was restored after compensatory offerings were made)

6. Don't wear white (colour of mourning) or red (attractive to spirits) clothes. 

This one's going to be a problem because Singapore's National Day is on 9th Aug and everyone will be out wearing red and white. But maybe there's safety in numbers!

But most of all it's a time for reflecting and remembering as we move on. 

Happy Ghost Month and Happy August everyone!






Monday, August 1, 2022

In the Artist's Studio: Felix Beaudry



 Annamaria on Monday



While we were in the Hudson Highlands together, friends from California invited me to go along to visit artist Felix Beaudry's studio.  Felix worked in textiles, they told me.  I thought I had an idea of what that meant.  What I saw hanging in his studio blew any preconceived notions out of my mind!

"They are three dimensional!" I exclaimed within seconds of saying hello.

 I looked carefully at the piece above, to see if the figures standing out in bas relief were appliqued.  They are not!

Felix Beaudry's works are nothing short of astonishing. A mask!  Whole heads of characters, with subtle  expressions, ranging from smug to dubious.   Knitted out of thread.


 

 

Felix Beaudry was born in Berkeley, California in 1996. He told me he has sketched and painted since he was very young. His mother taught him to knit when he was seven, but despite that early acquaintance with yarn, when he first enrolled at the Rhode Island School of Design, he thought he would major in ceramics.


But then, his focus quickly switched to textiles, and he learned to work on a manual knitting machine.  Soon he graduated to the digital model on which he now makes the works of art you see here. It has 1400 teeny-tiny needles.  Each one of which must be instructed on what to do.


Felix begins with drawings.  He works out on a desk-top computer all the myriad details required to produce the work; then downloads the program to the Stoll knitting machine, which produces his design.  Just as it might spit out brocade for someone’s drapery or upholstery. But in Felix’s case, it makes a one-of-a-kind, astonishing work of sculpture.

My snapshots do not do his work justice.  Here are some professional photos from Felix's single-artist exhibition of two years ago:




And some photos that properly show his current work:





This fall, Felix will return to RISD to teach in the textiles department. I can't wait to see what astonishing creations will emerge as he and his students inspire one another.