Tomorrow could be boring

Work, book reviews, more work and Oasis

I still colour code things in my diary. A red dot means "travel or out of office". In the last few months I've been in Poole, on Dorset fields, in Finland and in London more than I've been at home or in any kind of stable desk-based environment. My diary looks like it's suffering from a bad case of measles.

Pros: Not boring. As one might be able to work out from the title of this blog, the threat of boredom is my kryptonite. I've become really good at transporting all my "must-have" items to almost anywhere. People who know me always come to me for those plaster, painkiller, spare lipgloss, herbal tea and chocolate emergencies.

Cons: I always manage to take on just a little too much, so something has to give. This blog, for example. Or my attendance at Rushmoor Writers. I seem to be always either packing, unpacking or doing laundry. I have failed to get back into shape because I am either "too busy" or too knackered. Still haven't solved the living-in-my-head problem.

I've just spent the last six days at a wonderful community project, playing something called the Oasis Game. I'll be writing a diary about it this week and pop it over to Blogcritics and here when it's ready. I had the opportunity to spend time with some of the most inspiring, hard-working and loving people in the world, including Saci Lloyd, a local author, Tamsin Omond, a well-known campaigner, our Brazilian, Spanish and Dutch facilitators and many amazing colleagues from Lush.

This experience was definitely unusual for me; I'm not known for campaigning or direct action. Being fairly introverted and wishing to stay behind the scenes has meant that I've not even considered participating in anything like this before. Last week left me feeling more than a little bemused at my own attitude towards direct action. After all, I love doing stuff and doing stuff RIGHT NOW. Nothing frustrates me more than fussy bureaucracy and not being able to act fast once I get an idea. (I just need to learn to accurately assess the time I actually have available. Right now I feel that I haven't got a work-life balance. More of a work-work balance).

In the meantime, Jane Austen fans might be interested in reading about Martin Owton's writer friend's book "The Unexpected Miss Bennett." It took me a bit too long to get the book review out there, but hopefully it will still help unite fans of Austen's work with Patrice Sarath's fiction.

My list of writing committments is not too terrible, apart from the fact that as soon as I tick one item off it, something else appears. It's entirely my own fault for agreeing to or volunteering to do things because they interest me. Just don't expect fast results. I'm doing my best to fit everything in.

I'm back in Poole tomorrow and will get briefed on some new research projects. Next week I'm going to Finland for a few days. Timo and I will stay at his cousin's summer cottage at Nuuksio, then I'll be interviewed for Evita magazine and on Saturday I'll meet my 90-year old great aunt for the first time and finish the day off at my uncle's 75th birthday party. The day after we come back from Finland, I'll be off to Bournemouth for a big Lush meeting.

Look out for the Newham Oasis Game diary here soon.

Eastercon report: Odyssey 2010

Odyssey 2010, The 2010 Eastercon, 2 - 5 April 2010
Radisson Edwardian Hotel, Heathrow, London, UK

If you have a greater than average urge to don a hat, waistcoat, beard or a ponytail (especially if all at once), you may be a Fan and not realise it. I currently seem to be making it to only one con, and even to that at the pathetic frequency of every other year. Each time I decide that I'd like to go to more of them. They are fun and fascinating events. Also probably one of the few places where you'll see teenagers with knitting needles instead of hoodies. Perhaps the only place.

Even though as a child growing up in Finland I was reading Lem, Heinlein, Asimov, Clarke and Vonnegut with the odd Edgar Rice Burroughs' Mars book thrown in long before I'd got into Star Trek and the original Battlestar Galactica, I didn't know anything about 'Fandom' before my first Eastercon in Jersey. I'm so glad I now know they exist. One of the first Fans (with a capital F) I met back then turned out to be a bit of a Fandom superhero, Peter Weston. We still only ever bump into each other and catch up at Eastercons. 

According to Mike Carey, the difference between a Comic Con and an Eastercon is that the former feels less connected and less personal and the latter feels more like a bunch of people who've known each other for ages. There must be so many levels of these cons I am completely oblivious to - fandom politics and hierarchy, for instance, but to a naive punter like myself the environment feels un-snobbish, welcoming, inclusive and exhilarating.

As always there were more interesting programme items than time, and short of creating a space-time anomaly, one had to choose. I left out the bondage workshops, animatronics and sword fighting techniques, but there were still plenty of sessions I would like to have seen and couldn't.

When talking about happiness, life coaches and other such bods often recite that experiences make us happier than material things. The good (or bad, depending on one's viewpoint) thing about Eastercons is that they provide you with plenty of both.

FRIDAY 2.4.2010

9am

We pile into the Smart, put on Jokaiselle Tulta and drive down to Heathrow. The journey is shorter than two years ago because we now live in Farnham instead of Horley.

10am

Life of a Hydrogen Atom, Nik Whitehead

At first I am slightly concerned because the black and white Power Point presentation that greets us seems like an example of 'How Not To Use Power Point' from my presentation skills course. Within seconds, Nik's charismatic delivery and humour override any such doubts. She makes the session feel as though I've been given the pudding before the main meal.

"You're a different audience - different in all the right ways," she quips at one point.

Nik takes us through Life, Universe and Almost Everything in one hour, from the Big Bang to a sobering look at what might happen to our Universe in the end.

Current contenders are:

- The Big Freeze = if our Universe is considered to be open and will continue to expand ad infinitum, it will eventually suffer a heat death.

- The Big Crunch = if our universe is considered to be closed, it may eventually stop expanding and crunch inwards; possibly creating another Big Bang in the process. (Apparently this line of thinking is falling out of favour)

- The Big Rip = Everything will be torn apart by the expansion of the Universe and there will be 'rips' in space-time.

Luckily for us, our Universe is only around 14 billion years old. Still, I do frequently suffer from what could maybe be described as existential depression.

Afterwards, I reflect on how irritating I find it when people prefer superstition and woo to the marvels that are right here and very real. We are all made from stars. Fact. How much more amazing could things be?

11am

Comics 101 - Essential Comics for New Readers, Sam Sykes, Claude Lalumière, Mike Carey, Crazy Dave

"Comics is not a genre. It's a medium."

The panel throws out so much excellent commentary and information that I fill 5 pages of my notebook. It is nice to see Dave Mansfield again though I don't think he recognises me from 2008. (If you're reading - hi Crazy Dave!).

One segment makes me hold my breath a little. "What would you recommend to a child who is new to comics?"

I feel too intimidated to comment at this point, just in case mentioning Asterix, Lucky Luke and Tintin would be thought of as dorky. Relieved that someone else puts their hand up and mentions them instead. Also lament that Marsupilami never really made it over here.

Of course, coming from Finland, my comic book reading was hugely influenced by the Moomin comics, as well as Aku Ankka. I don't mention these.

I'm impressed by Claude. He is insightful and articulate. At one point he says: "Comics is a language - if you haven't been exposed to it from an early age it can be hard to decode." Of course this could be some kind of industry cliché I am blissfully unaware of, but it was certainly one of the most thought-provoking moments for me.

The discussion touches on the lamentable decline and eventual disappearance of newsstand comics, which has probably been one of the biggest causes of declining readership over the last couple of decades. I wonder if we could start some sort of a movement to bring comics back. Maybe that would be as likely to succeed as getting your kids really into radio plays.

Here are some of the recommendations:

 Flight anthologies - about storytelling and a sense of wonder.

Alfred Bester's The Stars My Destination as a comic. Apparently very hard to get hold of.

Starstruck.

Transmetropolitan.

Schlock Mercenary (web comic)

Ultimate Spiderman (if you want to get your superhero-fan kids into comics, but don't want to make their head explode by all the back-story).

Sam Sykes recommends Uzumaki by saying: "Are there any Japanese people in the audience?" No hands go up. He continues: "Good, because I might have phrased this a little differently otherwise. If you want truly weird shit, you've got to angle in that direction."

Walking Dead (apparently drawn by a really lovely bloke who once drew Dave a picture of a mad zombie scientist).

Sam also recommends The Boys, which he describes as a "a really horrible, violent comic." I'm beginning to spot a theme with Sam.

Claude mentions Love and Rockets, which I am chuffed about because I've only recently discovered it myself.

Palomar was described as magic realism, which makes me think that I must look it up immediately.

Beanworld is recommended for kids. Apparently it's about walking, talking beans.

Palestine is mentioned as an excellent achievement of conveying complex issues and the genuine horror of war.

Dave explains the general gist of A Super Girly Top Secret Comic Diary. Sadly it seems to have drawn to a close.

The Age of Bronze is mentioned as a good example of historically well researched project.

The Sandman comics, Lucifer and a nifty manga website are mentioned by members of the audience.

12pm

Lunch - shredded carrot and currant salad from the con Buffet. A bit soggy.

1pm

Iain Banks Before the Wasp Factory, David Haddock

The editor of Banksoniain fanzine takes us through what Iain was writing in the 60s and 70s. We hear anecdotes about his early adventure stories and terrible character names. My husband has to explain to me why Toss Macabre is funny.

2pm

Allergies - an Introduction to Our Current Understanding, Brian Gray

"Histamine is basically molecular teargas."

Who knew talking about snot could be so entertaining? Brian is a super-charismatic, knowledgeable, educated and a less creepy version of Sideshow Bob. His presentation is engaging and informative. I leave with a well-put-together handout and a grin. I'm also now jealous of North Americans' anaphylaxis kits. Mine is pretty pathetic by comparison.

3pm

Was going to go to: Writing Steampunk. Instead end up at: Battlestar Atlantia (LARP intro session)

 The hotel corridors are plastered with these cool posters. Both Timo and I are big fans of the new Battlestar Galactica. Even my text message alert goes: "By your command" in a cylon voice. But I digress. I've not done Live Action - or any other kind of - role playing for a very, very long time. I probably won't start again now. However, I must have one of these posters. So I head to the games intro session and speak to the artist. She is delighted that I like her work and lets me have one of the spare copies. I'll frame it later.

I spend the remaining time browsing through the dealer room (for those who don't know what a dealer room is; it's a science fiction fan market with everything from clothing, jewellery and books to two-headed bears). I pass the Genki Gear stall twice before admitting to myself that I must buy at least one of their t-shirts.

4pm

Utopia - How the Concept Has Developed in Philosophy and SF, Iain M. Banks, Elizabeth Counihan, Edward James, Nik Whitehead

"In order to create Utopia, you have to destroy what was there before."

A fascinating discussion about the very definitions of Utopia and Dystopia. "Utopias are fun to live in, but crap to write about," said Iain at one point. He clarified by stating that it's much more interesting to write about what he called the peripheral stuff; where conflict occurs.

"Brave New World seemed like a Utopia to the Americans at the time: hey, free drugs!"

5pm

How Writers, Artists and Illustrators Interact, Mike Carey, Al Davidson, Deidre Counihan, Chris Moore, Steve K

 

There is a definite difference between book jacket illustration and graphic novels/comics in that the former is more like packaging design. It's meant to sell a product. There is some more discussion about how novelists and illustrators interact. I've never properly thought about what goes into comic script writing and the session ends up focusing on this topic fairly heavily. I learn about the old Marvel 3-step process and what happens these days instead. The best part is when everyone starts to share their war-stories about demanding agents and ridiculous art direction. Mentioning no names, of course.

I discover that Mike Carey is a fellow book-sniffer and find this delightful. There's nothing like a science fiction convention to make you feel less like an outsider.

 SATURDAY 3.4.2010

It's my birthday and we decide to have a slow start. This allows me to open presents, the winner of which is this super-awesome Irregular Choice bag. I immediately turf out all the junk from my current handbag and put the new one into use.

 

 

10:30am

We bump into Martin Owton, Dave Gullen, Gaye Sebold from the T-party. I make a feeble attempt to explain why I've let my membership lapse to never-seen associate status. Martin suggests I should try the (now) local to me writing group he is a member of in Farnborough.

11am

Guest of Honour: Iain M. Banks, interviewed by Jane Killick

I am beginning to understand why the only two authors I really couldn't seem to get into when I first started reading English fantasy and science fiction as a non-native speaker were Terry Pratchett and Iain M. Banks. Who knew space opera could be so...colloquial?

Iain is animated, charismatic and charming. His talk keeps everyone entertained and the hour whizzes past.

I am still catching up with my Banks reading. I've gone up the science fiction 'branch' of his career first.

Iain's fantastic Scottish accent is beginning to flavour my internal dialogue.

12pm

Bad Science, Ben Goldacre

"All Men Will Have Big Willies"

At first I couldn't believe my luck when I saw that Ben was going to be here too. You'd just have to throw in some kind of olfactory lecture and it'd be perfect programming for Pia.

There are some technical difficulties in the beginning. Ben ends up with his laptop on a chair, on a table and comments: "Now that the Pierrot-part of my presentation is over..."

A great presenter, Ben shows that he's done this sort of thing on stage before. The early technical hitch cuts the show short, which is a shame because everyone is enjoying themselves immensely.

I already know most of the stories he tells us because I've got his book and read his blog, but I'm thrilled at the opportunity to see him in action.

1pm

We pile out of the room and to my surprise, Ben stops me: "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

We talk for about an hour and Timo joins in half-way through. I tell Ben about the book I'm working on and he scolds me for not pulling my finger out and sorting it out already. He threatens to write it if I don't.

We end up missing what we were planning on doing and decide to have something to eat instead.

I pop to the dealers room and treat myself to an adorable (very flattering) portrait done by Al Davidson. I can't resist the pull of another Genki t-shirt, so I reason that it's my birthday and who needs to eat lunch anyway? I end up chatting with Lydia on the stall and she tells me about their adventures as an independent company.

Sara-Jayne Townsend from the T-party is also in the room and we stop and chat for a while about her new book Suffer the Children. She is quietly hopeful, but very down to earth about it all.

3pm

Drawing Comic Art, Al Davidson

"Never commit too early to your lines."

I signed up for this session, which is lucky since it seemed over-subscribed. There aren't enough chairs and the arrangement is awkward for Al because he needs to draw onto a flip chart from a seated position. Somehow Al manages to run the session with ease despite these difficulties. He shows us some of his Doctor Who original artwork panels, discussed various drawing techniques - and we get to participate in some quick lessons in comic art short-hand. It's amazing how much Al is able to fit in. I learn a lot, but leave wishing I could sign up for a course taught by him.

4pm

Whisky tasting with Iain Banks

Did you know that Iain's original idea for a science fiction pen-name was a blend of his favourite whisky brands at the time?

We didn't sign up for this session, which means we were banished to the back rows and only got a few glasses passed around to us. The volume of audience 'participation' increases in tandem with number of whisky samples. The mods seem annoyed by this, but I don't mind. It's like a strange kind of bar with pauses for tasting notes. To my delight, the discussion touches on olfaction a fair amount, at which point I am able to contribute a little. Now it really is a perfect programme for Pia.

The whisky tasting ends at 6pm and we head home. I only sniffed, so I'm driving.

SUNDAY 4.4.2010

10am

Biggest Biological Tropes in SF, Stephen Gaskell, Paul McAuley, Michael Owen, Sharon Reamer, Gary Stratmann

"Life as we know it (if there's a Jim in the audience)".

The usual topics of carbon-based life forms versus the possibility of silicon-based; what IS life anyway and all that jazz gets covered. Very interesting, but find myself once again mesmerised by Paul McAuley's brain.

The question of "is there another type of life on Earth that we just haven't discovered yet?" is an interesting one.

Gary has a fantastic way with words: "The broader question of life is easily answered - it's DNA versus Lego." And: "It's been important to human psychology to believe we are special."

11am

Guest of Honour: Alastair Reynolds

"It's a great time to be writing science fiction. Science moves faster, so you just have to work a little bit harder."

Alastair presents a journey through early science fiction to modern writing by drawing on the theme of how science and fiction interact. He puts developments in the genre in political and cultural context and admits to still hoping that faster than light travel could be possible.

He mentions his frustration at not knowing what will be discovered by science after he has gone and I nod in agreement. It's one of the most annoying things about being curious.

12pm

We pick up a copy of Murky Depths from the dealers room. This is a new one for me, but the sample copy I picked up looked interesting.

Pictured: our book haul from the con.

2pm

Best Unread  (in English) European SF books, Jonathan Cowie, Jo Fletcher, Kirill Pleshkov, Hannu Rajaniemi, Christian Sauve, Ian Watson, Cheryl Morgan

Discussions about the difficulties of translation - and specifically - interpreting the content correctly are always fun, given my background, but I was cheating a bit and mostly looking for some good Finnish recommendations. Hannu mentioned Karsta, Apina ja Uusikuu and Lumikko ja Yhdeksan Muuta. I'll have to get hold of them when I next visit. I didn't know that 'New Weird' was called 'Uusi Kumma' in Finnish. It sounds funny.

3pm

Guest of Honour: Mike Carey

Mike is interviewed by Paul Cornell. The conversation moves fluidly through Mike's works. I am charmed by both of them. I hadn't noticed how much Mike looks like Lucifer in the comics until Paul points it out.

The pair cope admirably in what can only be described as a Monty Python-moment when two gophers decide to sweep the stage during the talk.

MONDAY 5.4.2010

10am

Language and Dialect in Writing, Iain M. Banks, Gary Couzens, Jude Roberts, Cheryl Morgan

The description of this panel featured a question I would have been interested in: "How interdependent are language and culture?"

Instead most of the panel focuses on Culture; which is still fine and entertaining, given that we're in the company of the person who invented it and another one who is writing her PhD on it. Audience participation moves the discussion towards personal experiences and reading of accents - how much we use accent and dialect as a social marker and so forth.

Timo suggests that I should give Feersum Endjinn a go. Iain says he wanted to make a short book longer "...so I thought I could slow it down by making you have to figure out 'what the hell is he saying now?'"

1pm

Was: Climate Scepticism: Pros and Cons, but we tossed a coin and went for Just a Minute instead.

Just a Minute, a rip-off of the game by the same name. John Dowd, Lisa Konrad, Sue Mason, Neil, Henry Proctor and Alastair Reynolds.

Some of the topics: the geography of Radisson Edwardian hotel, the colour blue, potatoes.

I manage to speak to Alastair briefly after the panel. He surprises me by guessing I'm Finnish and recommends Tahtivaeltaja magazine to me. He clearly has fantastic taste.

2pm

Black Holes For Beginners, Nik Whitehead

"Singularity really means: shit, we don't know what the maths is doing here. It's where it all breaks down."

I realise that we've come a full circle and end our con with another Nik Whitehead item. This session is even more fascinating than the first - probably because it involves so much more tantalisingly unknown and mysterious material.  I wish I could attend lectures by Nik all the time, but I doubt I'd have the smarts for it.

She mentions the 'spaghettification' of space-time and I can't resist shouting out: "Does that mean the Pastafarians are right?"

3pm

We're hungry and knackered and decide to head home. We're in the lobby paying for our parking when I lament to Timo that I hadn't had a chance to get my copy of Lucifer signed by the author. At this point, in a spooky replica of the John Meaney-moment from 2008, Mike Carey turns up and I get my autograph. He asks us whether we enjoyed the con and we try not to be too tongue-tied.

Homeward Bound

Listening to Plastic Beach on the way home, we discuss the con and how it feels for it to be over and whether we'll be going to the next one, or the one after that. Maybe the every-other-con pattern will continue, which may be just as well considering  how much you come away with. We pick up a bottle of Dalwhinnie 15-year-old. Cheers, Iain!

 

 

 

See the 2008 report here!

What is the difference between 15/km2 and 392/km2, other than 377?

Finns are drowning, getting drunk and crashing their cars this weekend. They are also building big bonfires, eating sausages, swimming naked in the sea or in one of the 155.000 lakes, heating up saunas - and some might even be collecting wild flowers and putting them under their pillows based on old love spells.

It's Juhannus (Midsummer) in Finland and I feel homesick. I miss some of the above. Not the drunken, drowning part. I miss the odd, golden haze of Finnish summer evenings. I miss Puffet ice cream sandwiches. I miss the way supermarket cash register staff don't look at you in the eyes and how you have to pay for your plastic bags. I miss the cheesy Finnish soap operas and reading old, yellowing Aku Ankka (Donald Duck) pocketbooks at the summer house. I miss having space to move around, even in the cities, without feeling suffocated.

I would love to go for a midnight swim, or for a stroll in the forest.

When I moved to England over 16 years ago, one of the many things I didn't quite realise was that I'd be swapping space for crowds.

Today the population density of Finland is 15/km² and the population density of England is 392/km². Even the numbers tell you that one place is crowded and the other one is not, but I made an image to illustrate the difference. Whilst the figures would have changed in 16 years, the ratio would have remained similar.

Of course one has to take non-arable land into consideration (there are all those lakes in Finland after all. And when you take a birds-eye view, the whole country looks like a giant forest, splattered about with water and the odd field and town). Most of Finns live in the cities and down the south. There is a tendency for city-dwelling Finns to huddle together for warmth and resources; it is normal and expected for people from all sorts of backgrounds to live in blocks of flats. Sharing the heat, sauna and laundry facilities makes sense in the harsh conditions that are the norm for majority of the year.

The Finnish summer is bittersweet; heart-breakingly beautiful, but so fleeting that half of it is spent recovering from the winter and the other half anticipating its return.

Even keeping all of the above in mind, one place is crowded the other one is not. There is a difference in how it feels to be here and how it feels to be over there.

But here's the real catch: I've grown accustomed to having lots of people everywhere. Visiting Finland makes me feel a little uneasy. Where is everybody?

Yet in my heart I crave space. The wonderful duality of expat psyche.

Finns are, generally speaking, rather homogeneous. There is the same stuff in the shops, the same aesthetic preferences, the same morals, the same political leanings. When viewed from the outside, that is. And when generalising rather broadly. Nevertheless, the homogeneousness is noticeable from this angle and is perhaps one of the other reasons why, after a while, staying in Finland makes me feel like I've been sealed in Tupperware. You have to get out and take a deep breath. And of course, living away from it all, I fill my home with reminders from Finland. The same stuff, the same aesthetic preferences, the same morals, the same political leanings. I finally found a guy with whom a relationship seemed easy and right. His mother is half-Finnish. Etc, etc, etc.

There is a deep comfort in being among people who, without any effort, think and feel like you do. Living abroad is a constant daily mental effort; I once assumed that this would be eliminated over time, but I'm not so sure any more. On the surface (spoken language, body language, writing, appearance, manners, rituals...) one can become very well adapted; almost indistinguishable from the real deal. A bit of an accent in everything you say or do, but almost, almost. I think and dream in English. I no longer accidentally offend people quite so often (reading "Watching the English" helped with that). I blend in locally, in London and almost anywhere in England and the UK as a whole. There are so many different types of people living over here anyway that this is relatively easy.

But your deepest feelings, memories and psyche remain rooted in where you came from. Ironically, when I lived in Finland, I never felt I belonged there either. Only once I'd moved away, I gradually realised just how Finnish I really am.

The summer holiday season will soon be over. The Juhannus-celebration marks the start of the real Finnish summer. This year I may be able to pop over in September, but by then, I won't find fresh berries on the market stalls or get to swim in a lake. But this year is different - my best friend is becoming a mother and her baby is due then. She only recently came to visit London with her mum, but I miss her already. And, as I've mentioned before, she's the only reason it truly sucks to be away. With everything else, one can make do.

Turns out the Chinese invented Breakdance

Shaolin Monks was great. A mixture between Martial arts prowess, energetic dance and stagemanship; it was a Martial arts circus. Definitely something to see (I could add the nauseating: for the whole family). There were spectacular shows of well-practiced moves, the circus-element of brick-breaking and balancing on sharp spikes seemed to appeal to the younger audience and there were moments when the cartwheels and rolling on stage held a striking resemblance to Breakdance.

The highlight of the show was a double-act by two very young boys - they looked like they were under 7 years old, but their size might have been misleading. They effortlessly sparred, skipped and hopped through complicated Kung-Fu moves with the sort of ease that usually follows years and years of tireless practice. Watching them was like an optical illusion that made the audience gasp time and time again; it was like watching miniature adults.

We did notice one thing - the audience was completely different from the last Sadler's Wells production we went to see. Yes, lots of families, but also people who looked like they'd never set foot in a theatre before. Many people arriving really late. Or talking during the performance. I don't care if it's your first time when you're 48 years old, but you could at least observe some polite common sense rules on how to conduct yourself.

Perhaps that's harsh. But seriously. Granted, not everyone was taken to their first concert/opera/theatre performance at under 5 years old, taught to sit still and focus, taught to figure out the plot of an opera sung in another language from looking through the programme booklet, but I do idly wonder whether common sense about certain things has to be taught too. Is common sense something you can, or have to teach?

It seems that many Finns still value opera, classical music and the theatre in the sort of way I was used to. In that you don't have to be wealthy, or in any kind of particular social class to take yourself (and your kids) off to see the latest production of The Magic Flute. At least that's the impression I get from the delightful film "Pelikaanimies" (Pelican Man), a film we watched yesterday. I bought it on our Finnish trip this summer, but we hadn't got around to watching it until now. Pelican Man is a simple, but delightful fantasy aimed at children, but entirely watchable by adults. One day a pelican decides to turn himself into a human by landing on a beach and putting on human clothes. The film explores human perception, what it's like to be an adult and what it's like to be a little boy whose parents have just divorced. There is lovely Finnish scenery and a beautiful feel to the whole film.

Attack of the space sausage!

The Learning Day at Escape studios was great fun, if totally exhausting. I can't remember the last time I felt that (mentally) wiped out. And really, that was a bit unexpected after only a deceptively simple set of exercises. I think it's the mental tiredness I used to experience when working in IT; something I haven't encountered for a long while. When you've intensely concentrated for several hours on the trot and have had to assimilate a lot of information in a short time. Maybe a bit like being in Higher Education (that's if you're actually trying to learn, versus spending your time in the pub...).

In the last two years I might have worked hard physically, but it's a different sort of tired.

When I got home last night I had something to eat, watched Chicken Run (with newfound respect, I must add) and fell asleep on the bed. Was woken up by Timo's call at around 1am: "I'm leaving work." The poor sod had a stupid-busy day.

The software packages we used at Escape were Shake and Maya. I felt immediately at home with Shake; sure, it wasn't simple, but at the same time it felt really intuitive and the concepts were fairly familiar. I've done enough Photoshop work and I "get" certain things more easily than others, so the Shake part of the day was definitely enjoyable on that level. In fact, I wished we could have done more with it. When I begun to understand the power of this package, it was time to stop. It definitely left me wanting to explore it further.

Not so much with Maya. I've had the Maya personal learning edition installed for a while, but unlike Photoshop, which I was able to just play around with in the beginning, until I started learning how to use it properly... well, my experience with Maya was definitely not the same! When I'd looked around it before, I just felt overwhelmed. It didn't seem to have a natural way to learn by trial and error because even to do the simplest thing, you'd have to know some of the basics about the interface and various tools. So you have to have an understanding of it even to get started.

Hence why this introduction to the package seemed like a good way to start; to just get an idea of what Maya was like; just to see whether it'd be something I could get my head around and to possibly even enjoy, or to do something useful with.

Our first task was to get somewhat familiar with the interface. So we made a simple ball shape and animated it to make it bounce. This eased us into the software. So far so good. I didn't fall behind, crash the software, or make my ball resemble a Sea Urchin (like some others in the class). Awesome.

Then, we were asked to open a file with two elements already in place: a human hand (with one digit missing; an odd-looking four-fingered hand) - and a polygon block floating above it. We were informed that the task would be to shape the hand out of the block. So far so good. The beginning all made sense; how to modify the polygon shapes into resembling the hand's structure; how to use the different views available, etc, etc.

However, at the point which the tutor had modelled two perfect fingers, my hand was more like a fairly creepy multi-digit space sausage. At least I hadn't created a zig-zagged 3D chess board like the student sat next to me.

Still. A space sausage. So, by this time I felt uncomfortable and like I'd just fallen off the wagon; the tutor had moved onto explaining skinning and I still had one of the four digits missing and the remaining ones wiggling at me, all misshapen and sausage-y from the screen.

In the end, we animated the "hand" to wave bye-bye. I'm thinking I could apply for SFX in horror films.

I stayed behind to chat with the tutor, who, incidentally, had started from a similar background to mine - from drawing and illustration to software and so on. She'd gone down the animation route fairly early on and I have a feeling that this is the crucial difference; I seem to be happier and more intrigued by the still image and by the 2D (or 2-and-a-half-D, as described by our Shake tutor) world. I expressed my doubts to the Maya tutor and she told me not to be so discouraged. She also mentioned that Maya is also a powerful texturing/skinning tool and that those skills are extremely useful in the industry.

Overall, I really enjoyed my Learning Day. It was exactly what I had hoped - a glimpse into the world of cutting edge digital effects, and a way for me to assess whether it'd be worth trying to learn any of these packages.

I think my next software investment will be Corel's Painter 9 (or whatever version will be out by the time I can afford the price tag!). I doubt I'll be delving much deeper into 3D. I don't have the hunger for it - and the work does not happen by magic. Those packages are a tool, just like Photoshop is - the work is only going to be as good as the skills and patience of the user.

However, if 3D would be something that I'd want to pursue career-wise, then Escape Studios would be a very good way to get into it. I'd recommend them on many levels - the tutors all have extensive industry experience, or are currently working in the industry - and the studios and equipment all seemed appropriate and professional.

A modified version of this post was cross-posted to BlogCritics.

My only warning would be: take a packed lunch. And a book. Because at lunch, or breakfast, or just about any other time of the day, you may not want to go out. Sheperd's Bush (at least the bit around the studios/Tube) is a DUMP. Hobos falling over on the road; two branches of McDonald's within 500 metres of oneanother, a KFC, some dodgy all-you-can-eat buffet, a small Starbucks with sullen staff, a slum shopping centre with a Morrisons. Nice.

Escape route

I am going to Escape Studios tomorrow, as a student on one of their "Learning Days". The day will be an overview of the studio as an environment, as well as a glimpse into the most popular software packages used on their courses.

The world of 3D image creation has fascinated me for quite some time. Just imagine - getting to grips with a little piece of magic. That's what it feels like anyway; the process of producing all those computer graphics for games and blockbuster films IS like modern day magic.

My gut feeling is, that I'm probably more in my element with 2D art, but I am nevertheless extremely keen to gain at least a basic understanding of another dimension. I'll report back!

Take a ticket, your number is 37758

Today, on Mozart's birthday (thank you, Google), I am going to talk about football.

There were at least two things wrong with that sentence, but no, you weren't imagining it. I'll allow you time to re-arrange your reading glasses on your noggin and to wipe that ridicilous grin off your face.

You see, Timo, my gorgeous half-Finn, half-Northern Irish love, is an avid football fan. Luckily not in the Eeeeeenglaaaaand-beer-bellied-going-out-to-get-smashed-wiv-the-lads-way, but rather, in that Fever Pitch-a-tad-obsessed-about-club-football-specifically-about-Arsenal-way.

Which, to a person like me, previously uneducated about these important differences, and ignorantly assuming that all football fans were alike, is a lesson learned. No, Timo didn't just make me write that. Although, I do think that he has subtly brainwashed me. A little. But I think I volunteered.

Not only am I beginning to understand the offside rule, I've now actually been to a football match (not just any match, but Arsenal versus Wigan, which was held on Tuesday at the Highbury stadium. Highbury is a place full of history, has beautiful Art Deco facade, and is due to be closed as a stadium and converted into flats. Arsenal FC will move to a new stadium nearby).

The picture on the left is of a penalty shoot-out (click for larger version), which, sadly, did not result in a goal for Arsenal. It is quite amusing to see how superstitious many of the devoted fans are - Timo kept on saying that he wished he hadn't taken that picture, because obviously, that's what proved to be unlucky for Arse. Yeaaaah.

When we were waiting for the match to start, outside the Gunners pub near the stadium, one of Timo's friends commented: "So, it's her first time at a match. Hope she's lucky".

A coach full of Wigan fans travelled past and the people inside thumped and jeered so viciously that I wouldn't have been surprised if they would have managed to break the windows and spill out onto the street. I guess there's a reason the Gunners has a sign above the door, stating: "Home fans only".

The match itself was exciting, but uncomfortable and frustrating. Exciting, because it was a new experience and because I couldn't help but get drawn in to the trance-like state of willing those players to get that fucking ball into that fucking net. Already.

Uncomfortable because it was very, very cold. One of the coldest nights this winter, with temperatures below freezing. And frustrating, because despite a score of 2-1 in favour of Arsenal, it was Wigan who came out as the winners, due to the calculations that determine the winning statistic when deciding who moves forward in the contest. And with this being the second match, and with Wigan having scored higher in the previous one... bah.

I've joined the club as a Red Member, which means that I'm now automatically in line for a Gold Member status (which, sadly, doesn't come with complimentary schmokes and pancakes*, but does mean that the likelihood of being able to obtain match tickets is higher). Timo is also a Red Member, and has joined another kind of line... the ridicilously long one for season tickets. His queue number is 37758. Maybe his grandchild might get a season ticket. If he's lucky.

I wish Arseblog would have been nominated as best sports blog in the 2006 Bloggies, but perhaps the regular visitors (or those witty and clever people who leave the most comments on any weblog, ever, according to Arseblogger) were too busy commenting and not busy enough nominating. For shame. Next year?

*If you get this reference, you're officially a nerd. Well done!

Edward Scissorhands adapted to a ballet

I am ashamed to admit that I've never been a huge fan of ballet. Sure, I was exposed to it from infanthood (as part of my mother's extensive campaign of her idea of culture versus American import soaps and Barbie dolls). I even had the opportunity to see The Bolshoi at the Bolshoi and yet, ballet was always just "okay" for me. Enjoyable, but forgettable. Opera, now that was something else, but all those tutu skirts and tight smiles of exertion - nah. They left me cold.

I enjoyed some modern dance. I fell hook, line and sinker for all the Flashdance, Breakdance, anything-dance films and clubs of the 80s.

But I haven't been to ballet for years.

This will have to change before February 2006. That's because a wonderful, wonderful man (I don't know him personally, of course, but he's wonderful) had the vision to get in touch with Danny Elfman and Tim Burton with a very special project in mind. The wonderful man in question is Matthew Bourne, famous for number of strong and unusual stage projects, his most controversial one probably being an overtly masculine production of Swan Lake - and the very special project is Edward Scissorhands, the ballet!

Matthew Bourne and New Adventures are back with their latest creation: a magical new adaptation of the classic Tim Burton motion picture Edward Scissorhands.

A Christmas treat for all the family, this touching and witty gothic fairytale tells the story of a boy created by an eccentric inventor who dies leaving him alone and unfinished. Left with only scissors for hands, Edward must find his place in a strange new suburban world where the well meaning community struggle to see past his strange appearance to the innocence and gentleness within.

Matthew will be teaming up with set designer Lez Brotherston and composer Terry Davies, who will take the original film score by Danny Elfman and adapt it especially for the stage. Source: ticketmaster

Danny Elfman is one of my favourite modern composers. I idolise Tim Burton. Edward Scissorhands really touched me when it was first released. This ballet production is running in London, at Sadler's Wells, Rosebury Avenue, Nov 22nd to Feb 5th.

If there ever was a reason for me to get re-aquainted with ballet, this is it.