AN INTERVIEW WITH stewart taylor
AN INTERVIEW WITH stewart taylor
photo
Mike Daish.
Tell everybody a little about yourself
I’ve been writing poetry regularly for nearly ten years, having done lots of dabbling before. My main focus is on poetry in performance, having a background in theatre and drama teaching. I’ve won several slam events but my main claim to fame to date is winning the Anti-Slam Apocalypse (worst poet wins) in 2016, in the guise of archetypal pretentious poet J Arthur Prufrock.
Was your creativity affected in any way during the lockdown? Did being lockdown make you feel inspired or deflated?
Living in unusual times has thrown up many ironies and associations and provided plenty of stimuli for creative work. However, I think one of the most challenging aspects of it for me was trying to get beyond a sense of ‘should’. Whilst I think poets should be responsive to what’s happening in the world rather than a relentless focus on Universal Truth, feeling that you ‘should’ be writing about current events or about anything is never a good place to start. For me, I do better when starting from my personal lived experience, what annoys me, puzzles me, makes me laugh.
What I have done during lockdown, that I might not otherwise have done, is to concentrate on filming my work and, as a result, improve my skills in video editing. Examples of my recent film work can be seen on my Facebook artist’s page Stewart Taylor’s Wordmeat Moshpit or on my YouTube channel. I am now planning to record a video version of my one-man show Spillage! I was booked and ready to present it at Camden People’s Theatre in late March and at the Brighton Fringe in May but something got in the way. What was it, now...
What was the main thinking behind your poem submitted to Together Behind Four Walls ?
Early on in lockdown I think I was more worried about what might happen with the pandemic, as I think we all were. Anyway, I had a fairly strong dream which I wanted to share in some way as a form of expiation. It was quite a disturbing dream at the time. I wrote a full prose account of the dream in my notebook just to clarify it and keep a record. Then I wanted to find a form that would echo the dream experience so I settled on a triolet. Its use of repetition would support a non-linear sense of time and its compact nature would reflect the fleeting nature of dreams. As it turns out, it’s not technically a triolet but I’m happy that it appears to have some formal discipline even if it doesn’t win a Poetry Forms prize.
Since writing it, I have become more and more aware that strong, vivid dreams have been a feature of lockdown for many people. I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise. People have had a lot more time to sleep and a lot more to process than before.
What inspires most of your poems?
I love language and playing with words. I like to create effects through rhythm and rhyme and write with a consciousness of how things will sound in front of an audience. It is important that saying a poem gives me pleasure - the feel of the vowels and consonants in the mouth, the joy of the image, the connection with memory. Subject matter is of course important, I can’t write about something that doesn’t matter to me. But I guess the sensual aspect of performing decides whether I complete a poem or put it aside.
Do you remember the first poem you ever wrote or one of the first?
I remember writing something at school when I was about seven years old. It was in response to Browning’s Pied Piper of Hamelin which the teacher had read to us. I loved its use of rhyme and rhythm and it certainly influenced me when we were asked to write a poem of our own. I can’t remember much of it save the last two lines:
Rats! Rats! They’re not very nice.
Kill them all! Kill them all! Squash’em in a vice!
My Dad had a vice in the shed at home and I was fascinated with how it worked and how strong it was. I never intended the line to cause amusement and, indeed, none of the other children, when I read it out at Assembly, laughed or even remotely giggled. I remember the other teachers, though, restraining smiles and looking away as I sat back down on the floor.
Do you ever think of poems before going to sleep or just after waking up?
Thankfully not just before going to sleep although this has been a time for editing work in the past, sometimes meaning I can’t get to sleep until it’s finished.
I can sometimes wake up with an idea, either something hanging over from a dream or something that has woken me up and won’t go away until it’s written. But generally, ideas can come at any time. I find it hardest of all to sit in front of a blank page having specifically set myself the task of writing a poem. It’s much easier if I’m writing something far more prosaic and an idea for a poem emerges.
Do you hand write poems or go directly on to your computer?
I always start by hand. I just can’t associate creative work with typing. There’s something about the feel of the pen on the page that is just as much part of the process. The point where I type up work onto the computer is a marking point in the development of the poem. It usually means that I’m committed to the work and want to be able to record and share it. Of course, there then begins an editing process in which the computer is really helpful. The capacity to adjust work but retain previous drafts is invaluable. And the act of reading the work in black and white print often sets off more ideas. I print off a new poem thinking I have it finished but it inevitably becomes covered in scrawl by the end of the week.
Do you ever give up on poems you have started?
Yes, this happens but it’s usually due to distraction with something else. The more time I spend on something, the more likely I am to see it through. Otherwise it will bug me and I won’t be able to let it go. What does happen with some completed poems is that they gradually get forgotten. They might get into a performance set when they’re new but over time they get dropped in favour of a newer poem or an old faithful.
If you had to write a poem about yourself, how would it start?
I would avoid explicitly writing about myself as I think it would be overwhelming. I wouldn’t know where to start. However, I do think that everything we write is a revelation of the self and I think I’ve got a fairly good idea of the different voices and personas that make up what might be called my identity. But if I was forced to answer the question, I think the starting point would have to be here and now. Just being aware of the present would be the key to any kind of poem about the self.
I find writing about myself a challenge in any context - a web profile, a job application or for self-marketing. But of course it is an essential part of life. I’d much prefer to present myself through characters and voices other than my own.
You can follow my work through Facebook or through WordmeatMoshpit.wordpress.com. Do let me know what you think!
Mike Daish.
Tell everybody a little about yourself
I’ve been writing poetry regularly for nearly ten years, having done lots of dabbling before. My main focus is on poetry in performance, having a background in theatre and drama teaching. I’ve won several slam events but my main claim to fame to date is winning the Anti-Slam Apocalypse (worst poet wins) in 2016, in the guise of archetypal pretentious poet J Arthur Prufrock.
Was your creativity affected in any way during the lockdown? Did being lockdown make you feel inspired or deflated?
Living in unusual times has thrown up many ironies and associations and provided plenty of stimuli for creative work. However, I think one of the most challenging aspects of it for me was trying to get beyond a sense of ‘should’. Whilst I think poets should be responsive to what’s happening in the world rather than a relentless focus on Universal Truth, feeling that you ‘should’ be writing about current events or about anything is never a good place to start. For me, I do better when starting from my personal lived experience, what annoys me, puzzles me, makes me laugh.
What I have done during lockdown, that I might not otherwise have done, is to concentrate on filming my work and, as a result, improve my skills in video editing. Examples of my recent film work can be seen on my Facebook artist’s page Stewart Taylor’s Wordmeat Moshpit or on my YouTube channel. I am now planning to record a video version of my one-man show Spillage! I was booked and ready to present it at Camden People’s Theatre in late March and at the Brighton Fringe in May but something got in the way. What was it, now...
What was the main thinking behind your poem submitted to Together Behind Four Walls ?
Early on in lockdown I think I was more worried about what might happen with the pandemic, as I think we all were. Anyway, I had a fairly strong dream which I wanted to share in some way as a form of expiation. It was quite a disturbing dream at the time. I wrote a full prose account of the dream in my notebook just to clarify it and keep a record. Then I wanted to find a form that would echo the dream experience so I settled on a triolet. Its use of repetition would support a non-linear sense of time and its compact nature would reflect the fleeting nature of dreams. As it turns out, it’s not technically a triolet but I’m happy that it appears to have some formal discipline even if it doesn’t win a Poetry Forms prize.
Since writing it, I have become more and more aware that strong, vivid dreams have been a feature of lockdown for many people. I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise. People have had a lot more time to sleep and a lot more to process than before.
What inspires most of your poems?
I love language and playing with words. I like to create effects through rhythm and rhyme and write with a consciousness of how things will sound in front of an audience. It is important that saying a poem gives me pleasure - the feel of the vowels and consonants in the mouth, the joy of the image, the connection with memory. Subject matter is of course important, I can’t write about something that doesn’t matter to me. But I guess the sensual aspect of performing decides whether I complete a poem or put it aside.
Do you remember the first poem you ever wrote or one of the first?
I remember writing something at school when I was about seven years old. It was in response to Browning’s Pied Piper of Hamelin which the teacher had read to us. I loved its use of rhyme and rhythm and it certainly influenced me when we were asked to write a poem of our own. I can’t remember much of it save the last two lines:
Rats! Rats! They’re not very nice.
Kill them all! Kill them all! Squash’em in a vice!
My Dad had a vice in the shed at home and I was fascinated with how it worked and how strong it was. I never intended the line to cause amusement and, indeed, none of the other children, when I read it out at Assembly, laughed or even remotely giggled. I remember the other teachers, though, restraining smiles and looking away as I sat back down on the floor.
Do you ever think of poems before going to sleep or just after waking up?
Thankfully not just before going to sleep although this has been a time for editing work in the past, sometimes meaning I can’t get to sleep until it’s finished.
I can sometimes wake up with an idea, either something hanging over from a dream or something that has woken me up and won’t go away until it’s written. But generally, ideas can come at any time. I find it hardest of all to sit in front of a blank page having specifically set myself the task of writing a poem. It’s much easier if I’m writing something far more prosaic and an idea for a poem emerges.
Do you hand write poems or go directly on to your computer?
I always start by hand. I just can’t associate creative work with typing. There’s something about the feel of the pen on the page that is just as much part of the process. The point where I type up work onto the computer is a marking point in the development of the poem. It usually means that I’m committed to the work and want to be able to record and share it. Of course, there then begins an editing process in which the computer is really helpful. The capacity to adjust work but retain previous drafts is invaluable. And the act of reading the work in black and white print often sets off more ideas. I print off a new poem thinking I have it finished but it inevitably becomes covered in scrawl by the end of the week.
Do you ever give up on poems you have started?
Yes, this happens but it’s usually due to distraction with something else. The more time I spend on something, the more likely I am to see it through. Otherwise it will bug me and I won’t be able to let it go. What does happen with some completed poems is that they gradually get forgotten. They might get into a performance set when they’re new but over time they get dropped in favour of a newer poem or an old faithful.
If you had to write a poem about yourself, how would it start?
I would avoid explicitly writing about myself as I think it would be overwhelming. I wouldn’t know where to start. However, I do think that everything we write is a revelation of the self and I think I’ve got a fairly good idea of the different voices and personas that make up what might be called my identity. But if I was forced to answer the question, I think the starting point would have to be here and now. Just being aware of the present would be the key to any kind of poem about the self.
I find writing about myself a challenge in any context - a web profile, a job application or for self-marketing. But of course it is an essential part of life. I’d much prefer to present myself through characters and voices other than my own.
You can follow my work through Facebook or through WordmeatMoshpit.wordpress.com. Do let me know what you think!
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