It’s been a hard week at House Luke including an untrustworthy story collaborator, a duplicitous publisher, extreme fatigue and a harassing receivership agency. The fatigue is something I’ve suffered with since my 20s, and may be related to my epilepsies or my habit of night shift work. Sometimes it manifests in 15 hour sleeps, 24 hours or two whole days. When people say “you must have needed that sleep”, I tend to have good reason to snarl. It is a humorous and affectionately meant remark, so I don’t.
I missed Tuesday and either side, so was a bit late for Comic Capers, the anthology to link in with celebrating the Black Box’s small comics convention on Sunday. [BellyLaughs][Black Box Belfast][Facebook]
The anthology was solicited by Paddy Brown, and I volunteered to take over as editor when the worload was annoying Mr. Brown. We’ve got a fairly good package. It’s twenty pages featuring the skills of Davy Francis (above), Stephen Patterson, John Robbins, Paul H. Tubb, myself, Dek Baker, Paddy, Alan Nolan and that rapscallion Danny Pongo.
The A4 collection costs £2.50 with proceeds going to Action Cancer. We’ll be up for selling via mail order too if you’re willing.
Sometimes stuff works out. I went at editing the collection on an all-nighter and feel much better that it’s all made up. Well done to all involved.
Creative Writers Network (1997) was my first published piece of writing , an opportunity offered me by Rhoda Watson (pictured below), when she mentored me for a few weeks in 1997. At that time, I’d not been writing at all for four years.
Within the year my confidence had returned to the point were I felt I could submit a piece to Comics International’s Comment. Cringeworthy reading,
This Flash-forward a few years to a meeting with Joel Meadows at Caption. Joel had seen my work on TRS2 and was keen that I write a regular column for Tripwire magazine. The offer took me quite by surprise and I wasn’t really prepared for it, but maybe I turned a reader on here or there.
Back in 2008, I was curating an exhibition in the Oxford Jam Factory showcasing some of the artists that take part in the yearly comics festival, the ‘Caption Collective’ as we were somehow dubbed. Jeremy Day (nee Dennis) helped me with the running, Daniel Merlin Goodbrey designed us a rather awesome flyer.
About that time I was using Oxford Brookes University print shop for getting my comics reproduced. Mark always managed to deliver exactly what I wanted: a simple A5 booklet with good alignment, stapling and a reasonable price. Knock off paper and card would be bound together to produce A5 notebooks which sat at the desk for customers, either for free or for a donation to the charity box. I swooped a few ot these and several made their way to Caption.
The first drawing is by Jeremy, the last is signed. I’m not sure who the rest are by. Tell me and I’ll update this. Put in a decent bid and I’ll send you the notebook and send the money to Caption Alternative Comics Art Festival.
Three hours free before the ferry, and Bruce’s Kitchen Cafe was closed, maybe related to a resident’s funeral.
Above: a stone chair dedicated to the island, with a poem by Seamus Heaney.I wandered around the shoreline, taking photos and attracting the attention of a dog. The eponymous Rathlin became my companion for half an hour, bringing a stick for me to throw. yanking out tubed stem seaweed for me to throw, lifting a plank from a building yard and dragging it across the street, presumably to throw, and as an ailibi. And when I washed the seaweed off in a little stream, Rathlin piled right into it, all four legs.
And then, the money ran out. And I went home
I’ll be back though. I’ve already twisted the arm of the Belfast Writer’s Group for a retreat out there, and Richard sent me this text earlier,
“Cheers 4 lovely postcard. Is just a place out a time up there – like a realm just slightly off the frequency. U know 4 yr bday there shud b a party up there. Out in the wilderness, us all imagining we’re the last remains of something, and we’re braced against the outside closing in”
Which sounds very tempting. My birthday is 70 days away,
So yeah, I was first inspired to Rathlin after reading about it in the graphic novel Troubled Souls by Ennis & McCrea years ago. The central character has himself in a bloody spot and thinks back to craic on the rock with friends, lighting fires and jumping on top of them in beer-fuel, trouser legs catching. For all it’s faults, (and I’m sorry John) McCrea’s paints (on his 1st book) are some of my favourite of his comicbook career. He brings out lovely greens and reds, there’s texture and beautiful flow – it’s a classical fine artist’s comic through and through. Romanticism, impressionism, it’s the painting on the wall to a child. The one page sequence with Rathlin housed the idea in my mind firmly, a grail place.
So, I crossed the five currents of water-ways. The trip from Ballycastle was 25 minutes, with alternating services at 45 minutes transporting cars. Islanders or long stay visitors only. Jennifer McCurdy, a long-term resident, picked me up at the harbour and gave me a long tour around permanent facilities — the fabled McCuaig’s Bar & Bruce’s Kitchen Cafe, Emma’s Chip Ahoy, the decorated garden I’d seen from the boat:
Soerneog View Hostel was about twenty minutes walk out, while the other accommodations and most houses were in the close proximity central street. It was more a private rent-able accommodation than what I think of as a hostel. Check out my Marie Schrader bedclothes.
Stepping outside, Rathlin impresses instantly.
Rue Lighthouse is one of three marking the seven mile island, away from the harbour and populace of a hundred. So I went that way.
There’s the weird juxtaposition going on: the mass expanses of (BIG) country, fields and trees everywhere, but knowing that it’s limited. It seems to roll in front, but a mile over there….I could see Arkill Bay, Doon Bay (North Channel) the Sea of Moyle (Atlantic Ocean)
This is as close to wilderness as it comes. Halfway between the madness of Wuthering Height’s Heathcliff, sure to feature as a Game of Thrones location. Not a soul around yet though, and I began texting Mum eager that she and Dad take advantage of this Europe-sque outbound paradise. Halfway through, I jump at a hellish scream. Some weird fat partridge,pheasant or grouse bloodcurdling yell flies out away from under a dense hedge-row and across the field. In front of it, a brown hare, the bird pursues. Little bastards.
That’s Ushet Lough there, halfway between the hostel and the shoreline. The walk takes an hour, except when I got there, large bulls and cows wandered about the shoreline, one giving me the evil eye. It was already dark, but as I told Judy, I could have taken it. In a fight, if we were to, which we wouldn’t, because the animals of Rathlin and I are such good friends we’d never fight.
Halfway back, I saw people!
At the hostel, I oven cooked my pizza, drank some lemonade and whiskey and at 9pm wandered back outside for a quick walk to the harbour. There were no streetlights, which made it a bit of a challenge, but I’d reviewed the road footage while inside and it was familiar. Then I banged my leg into the garden gate and the neighbours must have heard it. Oops.
I shot some footage in the dark at Ballintoy Harbour, real primal hulk smash stuff, but it didn’t come out. Instead, me at Sheep Island View hostel in Ballintoy. It’s not embedding, so go spot the difference over on YouTube.
Bit tired today, so here’s some photos of my night and morning spent in Ballintoy, beginning with a trip down to the harbour, and the Main Street the following dawn.
I LOVE THIS HOUSE LONG TIME. PLEASE BUY IT FOR ME. OK, THANKYOU.
Hearty recommendation of the pub opposite this one, The Fullerton Arms, were I was greeted with friendliness for pool, booze and chatter and greeted again with quality coffee the following morning.
andy-luke.com 