Emerging from 'Hamnet'

 

She of Nature and He of Art - it’s inevitable that they collide.

Nature is wild and generous beyond boundaries.

Art is selfish, yet without guile or malice.

Nature seems unbreakable, but when she breaks it's loud and unforgiving.

Art takes everything from Nature, but when he gives back, it's redemptive; elevating the physical to metaphysical on this mortal stage.

She of Nature and He of Art - it’s inevitable that they create life together.

And where there is life, there is its end.

In Hamnet, the end is so crippling, it threatens to destroy both Nature and Art. But they sustain, because the thread that connects them never severs, despite the storm. 

Chloe Zhao and Maggie O’ Farrell navigate the storm with such intuitive deftness, it feels as if all of the world's philosophies are moving through them. The film is soft and deep, nurturing grief, as it takes root in every character - in Agnes, Will, his mother and the children. It makes you stay in moments so stretched - so real - it's as if time has come undone, then rewoven itself to give breaking hearts, all the room in the world to crumble, then reassemble.

The first time I watched Hamnet, I couldn’t drag myself away from Jessie Buckley’s Agnes. But the second time, I saw Will’s ache, his battle with himself and finally, the non-negotiable surrender to art; a pull for which Agnes expands space. How unfair, then, that her own primal need to return to the forest is never honoured. But Art sees all. 

Will's atonement? Pressing the full might of his art into rescuing them from drowning. His Hamlet laid at her feet, love’s ultimate offering, so that she can bid goodbye to her son by witnessing, through the play, that grief isn't the only thing death brings, it's also freedom. 

In the end, both Art and Nature work together to restore Agnes’ knowing back to her, back home where it belongs. If that won't split you open in a cinema hall full of strangers weeping with you, nothing will.

- Hamnet, 2025

The Artist's Return

There's this stupid certainty that returning to my creative self at age (almost) 47, having burned pretty much all my media/art bridges 5 years ago, with no light in sight, is the wisest way to use my life from here on out. I could be out on my arse financially, I could become homeless (pretty soon actually) but there's this stupid certainty that it's where I need to head.

Because there was this silly little show, maybe you've heard of it, that managed to push through the grey, rubble-laden, packed-stiff-dry-earth of 'Netflix-&-chill' teevee to become this massive moment in popular culture globally...Yeah that little show. Boy, it showed us something.

This is the return of the artist, climbing over debris left by 'content-creators', seeing but not agreeing that audiences are 'consumers' or that art is meant only to confirm the darkness we find ourselves in as the human race. Art can build whatever world it chooses to, and in doing so, give us possibilities of whichever world we want to live in. 

This little show has given us a world which leads with kindness, where conflicts resolve not just with bravado and wits, but with empathy. It doesn't pretend evil doesn't exist, but neither does it treat us like defeatists, exhausted from living these dystopian lives. It takes all that and then gives us a story where compassion becomes the air we breathe in and, more importantly, breathe out.

Whether I define myself as an 'artist', or not, is irrelevant. We're all artists if we lead with authenticity and I guess the only question is: are we -am I- doing that? What is my voice in this world? Is it what a client or a channel or a boss or a 'market' or a political party tells me it is? If it's not, then what it is? If I were to make a silly little show, what would I lead with? Would I have courage if everyone around me said it wouldn't 'work'?

Jacob Tierney seems to have done whatever the fuck he wanted to do (I simplify, I'm sure it was more complicated than that). He has built an almost unbelievable premise, where the worst of humankind never really takes over and the plot twist is: love. How fucking audacious for these times. How fucking radical.

In doing so, he's given the artist in me strength to lead with whatever I want to lead with. My only job now is to go deep and excavate. 

Do not forget Gaza - Anas Al Sharif 11/8/25

 

Happy New Year 2025

 

There, my blessing with thee.
And these few precepts in thy memory
Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportioned thought his act.
Be thou familiar but by no means vulgar.
Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel,
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in,
Bear ’t that th’ opposèd may beware of thee.
Give every man thy ear but few thy voice.
Take each man’s censure but reserve thy judgment.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not expressed in fancy—rich, not gaudy,
For the apparel oft proclaims the man,
And they in France of the best rank and station
Are of a most select and generous chief in that.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be,
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell. My blessing season this in thee.

 

Being Here

I almost died when I was born.

My parents didn't know how to care for a baby born, technically, in the European spring, and I got bluer & bluer until a nurse saw me and took measures to warm me up again. 

This is an oft-repeated story in my house. My mother tells it like a funny story about fresh-off-the-boat tropical natives in a cold & grey land. As a child listening, I remember feeling special every time it was told. It was one of the few times my mother would talk about me as an individual human being, not as a thing she had to feed, clothe and keep alive. 

In this story is the absence of my father. He doesn't feature in it. Nor did he ever, as far as I can recall, ever tell it.

But as a woman inching towards her 46th year on this planet, I now realise that this is a story about my almost not existing. And I think that's how I have lived my whole life. 

I've tried to exist as little as possible. I've tried always to get out of the way, make the path clear by removing the obstacle that is me. I've been exhausted down to my bones trying to justify being here - by always being useful, by being of service, by anticipating & needing all needs. Most recently, in a very dark moment, I coolly & calmly considered not being here anymore. Of matching the insides with my outsides and just...exiting.

Yeah, so these are my two states of being-here: Being of service or not being here at all.

Now I think that if, as a newborn, I almost died and made it back, it must be for a reason. It's too much effort to revive a dying thing, if one sees no purpose to it, right? 

So let's start with that. 2025 - the year of being here.

Summoning

 Find you a girl willing 

    to dismember him

    break his legs, cause financial ruin

    destroy his reputation

                                       Because he hurt you

Then together you will

            raise children not of your blood

            grow things no man could conceive

            like pleasure

                                        At no one's expense

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C'mon ChatGPT, critique this shite: What does the poem have to say about patriarchy?

The poem critiques patriarchy subtly but powerfully, exploring its impact through both destructive and transformative lenses. Here's an analysis of its commentary on patriarchy:

Patriarchy as a Source of Harm

• The first stanza suggests a male figure who "hurt you," symbolizing the harm perpetuated by a patriarchal system. The emphasis on actions like "break his legs" and "destroy his reputation" reflects the violent reckoning some may fantasize about in response to systemic oppression or personal betrayal by men within that system.
• The hyperbolic nature of this vengeance ("dismember him") highlights the depth of pain caused by patriarchal harm, suggesting how deeply ingrained systems of male dominance can fracture relationships, emotions, and lives.

Subverting Patriarchy Through Feminine Solidarity

• The poem shifts focus in the second stanza to a collaborative and creative vision: "Find you a girl willing" implies solidarity between women, which is often a counterforce to patriarchal norms that encourage competition and isolation among them.
• Together, these women "raise children not of your blood" and "grow things no man could conceive." This imagery rejects traditional patriarchal definitions of legacy (through biological offspring or material achievement) and instead embraces creation on their own terms—things born of choice, care, and mutual empowerment rather than dominance.

Reclaiming Power Outside Patriarchal Constructs

• The final line, "pleasure / At no one's expense," is a direct rejection of patriarchal norms that often frame success, power, and pleasure as zero-sum games. Instead, the poem envisions a world where fulfillment is cooperative and equitable, not built on exploitation or harm.

Overall Commentary

The poem critiques patriarchy by contrasting its destructive tendencies with the potential for an alternative mode of existence based on solidarity, creativity, and non-exploitation. It suggests that while patriarchal systems inflict deep wounds, there is a possibility for healing and creation outside of its confines—offering a vision of empowerment that does not perpetuate cycles of harm.

    

Photographs

We weren't supposed to take as many photographs

It was not in Nature's design 

to recall ourselves at 8 years

or 80.

It was not fated 

to be reminded of his face 

Hers

Ours, not as ugly as we thought at 25

It shouldn't be so easy that

un-summoned they invade 

our screens, like dogs

Darting in front of cars

without warning

Or prophecy 

It was meant to be a forgetting, this existence

of love and lesions

So we might string each day

Into a necklace of last days

So that each breath carrying it, this existence

became the soft touch

deep sigh

and last look

Before we turned away

See, if there were so many photographs

How would we say goodbye

And live

Critique of my poem by ChatGPT (the fucking free version)

This poem is poignant and reflective, with a strong meditation on memory, impermanence, and the modern abundance of photographs that alter how we process life and loss. Below is a critique that focuses on its strengths and areas for potential enhancement:

Strengths:

1. Theme: The central theme of memory's role in life and how photographs disrupt the natural forgetting process is beautifully original and thought-provoking. It makes the reader consider the paradox of preserving versus living.

2. Imagery: The poem uses evocative images, such as "a dog darting in front of a car" and "a necklace of last days," which are vivid and elicit strong emotional responses.

3. Tone and Mood: The poem captures a contemplative and almost mournful tone, which suits its theme well. The pacing and phrasing invite the reader to pause and reflect.

4. Structure: The lack of rigid form complements the poem's meditative nature, giving it an organic flow that mirrors the unpredictable process of remembering and forgetting.

5. Philosophical Depth: Lines like "It was meant to be a forgetting, this existence" and "How would we say goodbye / And live" carry a philosophical weight, prompting the reader to ponder life's ephemerality.

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Areas for Improvement:

1. Clarification of Ideas: While the poem is richly layered, some lines might benefit from slight refinement for clarity. For example, "Or prophecy" feels abrupt and could use more contextual grounding to tie it firmly to the surrounding imagery.

2. Consistency in Metaphor: While the metaphor of the "necklace of last days" is striking, it contrasts sharply with the digital, modern image of "invading screens." You might consider weaving a more cohesive thread between the natural and technological elements.

3. Pacing: The line breaks and punctuation sometimes feel uneven. For instance, the abruptness in "Hers / Ours, not as ugly as we thought at 25" creates a slight jarring effect that might distract from the poem's reflective flow.

4. Title Connection: The title, while intriguing, could be slightly more evocative or better tied to the central tension of the poem. For instance, referencing memory or forgetting directly might make it more impactful.

5. Resolution: The closing lines ("How would we say goodbye / And live") are strong but could be expanded slightly to deepen their emotional resonance and tie the poem together more conclusively.

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Suggested Revisions:

1. Consider replacing "Or prophecy" with something more visually or thematically aligned, such as "Or premonition."
2. Explore a title that directly reflects the poem's core idea, such as The Weight of Memory or Too Many Photographs.
3. Revisit the pacing in sections like "Hers / Ours, not as ugly as we thought at 25," to see if the break enhances or disrupts the poem's rhythm.
4. You could expand the idea of photographs "invading screens" by elaborating on the emotional impact of these digital interruptions.

Overall, the poem is a compelling exploration of memory and the existential tension between preservation and impermanence. With some polishing, it could be even more powerful and cohesive. Would you like help revising specific sections?