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  •             These works form part of the Exhibition HUM                 LINK TO OTHER PARTS OF THE EXHIBITION USING THE LINKS BELOW: 

    Music/Performance:  HUM - Music Room 

    Poetry:  HUM - Literature Room 

         Sound Installation:  HUM - Digital/Installation Room

             

               SCROLL ACROSS AND SCROLL DOWN

     

     

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  •  Wake Narrow the Naked Phrase

    A film of the creation of a poem

    by Kevin Nolan and Susanne Wawra

    using their Ping-Pong schema




    • WAKE NARROW THE NAKED PHRASE (2016)

    • Nolan’s second conceptual volume of collaborative poetry written with his collaborator the artist/poet Susanne Wawra. The two artists again conceived a conceptual poetic process this time they coined Ping-Pong Schema  - a particular process invented by Nolan and Wawra.
    • Seen from a distance, this process is as simple as a child's game. However, on closer inspection, the two artists reveal a complex and multifaceted intersection of creativity and authorship.  A synthesis of the consciousness and subconsciousness of the two writers not unlike automatic writing. Wawra and Nolan have coined their very unique process Ping-Pong: A conceptual poetry game where the poem is the ball that is played from one side to the other and back again.  As seen in the film shown here (see right), the poem is created word for word, stone on stone in a generative fashion without having the blueprint of the resulting structure.   

    • The poem comes alive in the space between the two poets, it is a separate entity composed from two poles that sometimes attract and sometimes push away.  It is action and reaction, a symbiotic creation of something unexpected and uncontrollable; yet somehow also controlled in their joint efforts to make a poetic narrative.  A preconception or intention can be shattered by a single utterance, which directs the narrative in a completely different direction surprising Nolan and Wawra at each turn: the result is a collage of sorts.  A mix of conscious/unconscious, random/deliberate, real/imagined as well as soft/hard, comedy/tragedy and knowlege/speculation.
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  • The Making of a Memory

    (modernist architecture, the twin towers and you)

     

    Within functioning structure

    the steel skeletons sought

    to lift the spirit of the city.

    Not so.

    Bad acoustics, frames,

    rain and excrement

    left a modern mark

    upon a people

    unable to answer or endure.

     

    Was it night's alleys that drew revolt?

    Would sunrise stop the muggings?

     

    Yamasaki,

    September sun hung swollen

    between two glistening towers,

    like two wounds across the heavens

    Inflicted by a rational animal

    cornered by meaninglessness.

     

    Till city shook

    Fallen communities of the sky

    giving over

    to the stronger shoulders

    of another world's spiralling spirit

     

    We observed

    unable to answer or relate.

    Alienated from truth.

    TV light shone blue and white

    flickering shadows.

    Us as two platonic prisoners.

     

    Suddenly

    I craved to search in vain

    for the hiding animals

    of a reality void of humanity.

    'Poetic' I thought, but

    I didn't scramble for my note books.

    Instead we talked all night

    and I remember then you loved me.


    *** 

     

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  •  The Death of Eric Alphabet

     

    A bray called

    Down Eric fell.

    Gun-hap. Ii-ahh!

    Joyless killer lay

    mauled, numb, odious

    Pnoy quietly rolled south,

    tawny, unfurled.

    Veal walked xii,

    yearning zoolatry.

     

     

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  •  Dancing to amplified silence

     

     

    underestimations, ruminations

    and scantily clad billboard thoughts

    take the form of one voice

    running outwardly awkwardly

    and understandably so

    like vibrating sounds of buzzing machinery

    rusting and rabid

    a relentless, timeless democracy of sound

    bleeding wth pleasure

    against a piano landscape of rust prints

    and natural advertisements

    this is a private reverie speaking

    in the year two thousand and eight

    the sky's lungs are old and overcast

    showing age

    like the face in the crowd

    denunciated, reviled but renowned

    wrinkly with sin and sawdust

    with scarecrow eyes

    tempting every doghouse dandy

    that walks or crawls

    through the forest of naked pianos

    and the absurd undergrowth of

    ineffable fantasies

     

    once

    in the yellow light of a late train

    intrigued and rambunctious

    drinking drafts of heavy rain in the inky night

    I touched on the thrown thoughts of my youth

    cumbersome but unified

    a bookshelf existence mummified in my mind

    thwarting toward too many unanswered silences

    verso, recto, verso, recto

    a sacrosanctly sadly subject to a useless scrutiny

    I had no anwers

    and them like passing dancers

    waiting behind velvet curtains

    urging me "outgrown this transparent silence

    take up the sword and speak!"


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  •  A Film of three poems from

    FRAGMENTS OF THE MIND

    read by KEVIN NOLAN

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  •  FRAGMENTS OF THE MIND  (2013)

     

    Nolan’s first conceptual volume of collaborative poetry written with his collaborator the artist/poet Susanne Wawra. The two artist conceived a conceptual poetic process they coined schizo-poetry Schema.

    Schizo-poetry schema

     Schizo-Poetry - Fragments of Mind is a collection of poetry written by two authors, singer/composer Kevin Nolan and visual artist Susanne Wawra. The word 'schizo' means 'split' and this is realised in poem pairs with the same title that split each individual topic into two perspectives.

    The starting point and title for each poem is a colour, from which the poets write into their own direction. The resulting two interpretations are presented aside each other in this book.

     These poems reach from light to dark, bliss to despair, humour to sincerity. They are brimming with sensations, emotions and sentiment in their exploration of life, feeling and meaning. While each individual poem tells a story and provides us with a fragment of mind, it is the juxtaposition of both renditions that takes on its own dynamic. It is an invitation to compare, combine and construct a greater layer of connotation, interpretation and significance.

    For this collection, the foreword was written by poet Patrick Deeley and an introduction by John Saunders, Director of Shine, the national organisation dedicated to upholding the rights and addressing the needs of those with mental illness.

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  • Singer/composer

    looking for CD art work

    for debut release

     

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    Captain Beefheart fan

    Looking to form tribute band

    Based in Galway West

     

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  •  Piano player

    looking for Dublin jazz band

    Can start right away

     

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    Musician seeks band

    multi-instrumentalists

    are preferable

     

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    Violin player

    seeking barbershop quartet

    Playing ten years now

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  • Bouzouki player

    seeks Tipperary rock band

    into Grinderman

     

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    Didge player searching

    for like-minded musicians

    Loves no-wave music

     

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    Musician seeks band

    Proficient with keys and bass

    Loves Christian music

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  • Piano player

    starving for Dublin rock band

    been playing ten years

     

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    Bullroarer player

    back from travels in Queensland

    seeks to play with band

     

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    Seeking Christmas gigs

    guitarist available

    know loads of covers

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  •  Drummer required

    for punk rock band ‘The Hicoos’

    for Dublin based gigs

     

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    Drummer seeks to join

    Dublin band for summer gigs

    Love Cohen, Cave and Waits

     

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    Need a bass player?

    or a piano player?

    well then I’m your man!

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  • Tea chest bass player

    wants musicians for jamming

    2I live in Dublin

     

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    Dublin ensemble

    ‘Burmese Violin’ looking

    for cello player

     

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    Singer/lyricist

    required for Dublin band

    Beefheart meets The Fall 

  •  Lambeg drummer seeks

    experimental outfit

    based in Mayo Balla *

     

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    Saw-man Joe aesthete

    seeks musicians and poet

    to form Dublin band

     

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    Saxophone/harpist

    in Tralee. Prefer rock, Eels

    Steve Stills. Contact Steve

  •  THE HOT PRESS HAIKUS

     

    Starting in April 2006,  Nolan contrived to have a haiku unwittingly published in the classified section of Hot Press magazine every fortnight. He did this for several years. Following the traditional 5-7-5 syllabic structure, the haikus were published in the guise of musicians' adverts. For the near half-decade that Nolan submitted his camouflaged haikus to the unsuspecting magazine, he had to continually provide new contact email addresses and phone numbers - often those of friends and family members unaware of or uninterested in his project - to prevent the editors from becoming suspicious. As the years went by and his haikus continued to appear regularly, Kevin told nobody about what he was doing, bar his then girlfriend. Because the magazine permitted many of the ads to run for several weeks before retiring them, Kevin would sometimes buy the latest issue of Hot Press and find that his fictive musicians had fully colonised the music-ads section.

     

    Projects such as the Hot Press Haikus, he says, are a way of both allaying and contemplating his sense of detachment. (Another project saw him taking photographs, over a period of years, of thousands of individual passing clouds, which he imprinted with the date and time at which they had been taken.) The haiku series, he says, is a reflection on artistic obscurity, transience, and obsolescence.

     

    The following is a selection of the haikus, which appeared in Hot Press from 2007 until 2012, and whose total figure ran into the hundreds (Nolan himself has lost count).

     

    The Hot press Haikus were published in the Irish experimental journal, Colony. 

    * This is the first of the haikus that Kevin Nolan ever had published in Hot Press magazine.

     


     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     








     

     

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  • For Lucia

     

    When pensive I focus my thought on you

    Tracing casket to cradle I picture

    A rose reaching out to the sun's bright hue

    A dance sadly stolen from the dancer

    Oh! to have seen you perform in Paree

    Or the poems which now no longer exist

    He saw the spark of an artist in thee

    Something his eyesight would never have missed

    But the armour of shining scales you wore

    Wa claimed and corroded by the season

    The rainbow girl whom he so much adored

    His daughter his muse his inspiration

    You danced for the dance an art with no aim

    But to be free as a child plays a game

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  •  

       

    The Cold

     

    Shiver, a soft pain. Skin's hard, smooth.

    Bone visible hands are numb, and my ring slips

    off my finger. Cold, colder and colder, as death-pensive

    statues shivering.  I'm more bone than skin now,

    existing in my very feelings centre.

     

    Warm breeze hits my throat and torso.

    I feel it, heat, with my hands and fingers shivering still.

    I go silent like sudden relief of pain and

    I suckle at the heat.  Resembling the calm after the raging fit.

    Trembling with left over elation.

     

    My hand is shrunk. That makes you feel something

    but you don't know why.  You feel the hot and cold parts

    of my body in start contrast and when I shiver,

    You begin to cry.

     (best read in cold temperatures)

     

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  •  

    Vibrations Of The Soul (2012)

     

    Extracts from Nolan’s debut volume of poetry with illustrations by his uncle the Dublin based visual artist John Nolan.

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  •  

      TTime and Place

     

    Retracing every tone, word, silence and gesture;

    locked in relentless role-play

    each time my answer is getting better and better

    in a reverie two hours too late on the ductile seats of

    the evening train home. 

     

    Where have I to have told my plight when I got home,

    she would have emphasized.

    Where have I to have loitered my head on her shoulder,

    she would have clung to me and vaolorized.

     

    She would have said, she is happy that I exist and 

    then, and there, where, if I were to have believed her

    I would not have felt so bad for existing.


    *** 

  • The Silence

     

    all the blood

    swishing around in my body

    and the vibrations of my heart beat

    really

    I have nothing to say

    except

    the blood

    swishing around in my body

    and the vibrations of my heart beat

    and my thoughts

    and the silence

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  • HUM

    Poetry by

    KEVIN NOLAN

    Featuring work from the following volumes of Nolan's Poetry:

    VIBRATIONS OF THE SOUL

    THE HOT PRESS HAIKUS

    FRAGMENTS OF THE MIND

    WAKE NARROW THE NAKED PHRASE

    AVAILABLE FOR SALE HERE