A note on: My website going into The British Library UK Web Archive

My website has become an archive, rather than a cv, or calling card, which is understandably the normal purpose of writer / artist sites. I know it's not as easily navigable as it might be, but it's a metaphor for my approach in general. I see my website as kind of a work itself, though it can be a neverending process, keeping it updated, like cleaning a house, and can make me feel like the volume of what I do is pointless, it's something I invest time in. This seems to have paid off.

I'm happy to say the British Library UK Web Archive will be archiving my site as part of their digital program that aims to 'make accessible and preserve web resources of scholarly and cultural importance from the UK domain.

My site will be in the Open UK Web Archive which "has been collecting websites by permission since 2004 and is the smallest of the three collections. Its selective nature means that the sites are of high quality, and the archival copies have been manually quality-checked and carefully annotated. This curated collection covers aspects of UK life and culture, as well as specific events such as general elections, the 2012 Olympic Games, and the commemoration of the centenary of the First World War."

In response I’ve undertaken some long overdue updates and restructuring for the site and how it records my work.

71 poems up on the Poetry Archive

a whole new page on my website for this, a real privilege to be a part of the archive. http://www.stevenjfowler.com/poetry-archive/

The Poetry Archive is one of the biggest resources of poetry in the world. My page includes recordings of 71 of my poems, from my collections Red Museum, Fights, Minimum Security Prison Dentistry, Recipes, Enemies, The Rottweiler's guide to the Dog Owner, {Enthusiasm} and my commissions the Wrestlers for Tate Britain, and my books in boxes Estates of Westeros and Gilles de Rais. You can listen to five of the poems for free and the rest can be downloaded.

http://www.poetryarchive.org/poem/interrupters
http://www.poetryarchive.org/poem/recipe-peach-melba
http://www.poetryarchive.org/poem/incidents-anti-semitism-56
http://www.poetryarchive.org/poem/cob
http://www.poetryarchive.org/poem/over-me-climbed-brand

Kiddy Kamarade

http://www.archiveofthenow.org/pages/kiddykamarade/

all hail the extraordinary Sophie Mayer who pulled off this genuinely wonderful and original undertaking

Welcome to Kiddy Kamarade! The Archive of the Now and Rich Mix invite you to join our carousel of poets, providing ideas and inspiration for making word-art together with your children. Try out our imaginative techniques — and have a chance to show off what you create!

Station 1: Sarah Crewe and Chris McCabe – Poem Post Office

Sarah and Chris had a stack of postcards with mystery recipients (including Roald Dahl, Mr. Tumble and the Pope) written on one side – it was up to you to send them a message that might describe them before you knew who they were! The message you wrote was a description of something you could see in Venue 2, the long, sunny upstairs bar where the event was taking place.

I was describing the event itself – but there was a magical, funny collision with the recipient who was revealed to be:

I like to think She enjoyed it. Especially the glitter… of which more at Station 3: Poetry Potions!

But first, Station 2: Tim Atkins – Wonderful Day Haiku Station

Tim posted this haiku by Shiki Masaoka (in English and Japanese!) and invited us to imagine our wonderful day in brilliant colour! the delicious array of food treats available around the venue (including bagels) was a popular theme – as was the event itself…

Archive interview at British Library / Seminar interview at St Martins college

Two ephemeral and pleasurable things I've done in the last week, intertwined with two powerful powerful friends / peers. First I stopped off at the British library to speak at length with Hannah Silva, who is working with the BL archives to conduct research into performance in 21st British poetry and other such things. Though it's uncomfortable at times, putting into words my own approaches to work, so much of which is deliberately kept expressionistic and instinctual, for lack of time, and for a desire to keep rooting things in their experience of being made, rather than their result (believing the latter will emerge from the former, if done right, without too much of a heavy editorial hand), the process is undoubtedly good for me. If only to realise where I am heading, and why that is happening. We also chatted more widely about performance poetry, and my dislike of it. Hannah is such a remarkable performer, and she has such possession of her ideas, it makes working with her in any capacity a beneficial experience. The interview will be in the library's records until the end of the world apparently.

Then later in the week I was part of a seminar series for undegrads at St Martins, taught by Diane Silverthorne, whose amazing work Ive got to know over the last few years and who has become a friend and great influence on my reading and dwarfish erudition. We chatted through my root into poetry, and then art performance in front of around 40 students, most of whom were impeccably dressed (St Martins is like a fashion show, so beyond being a trendy enclave, its become something bizarrely retrograde in its futurism. It is often like walking through a successful genetic experiment, some benign social engineering program, where only beautiful and attractive young beings mope about concrete stairwells) and possibly interested, though it was hard to tell until I spoke to them. I talked about audience participation, nearly forced them to participate, then showed some vids of my boxing performances. It was again a funny experience, one where I learned something by being forced to waffle about what I do and am trying to do. The people were lovely, very gentle with me. And it always feels a privilege to be inside an institution like this, if only for a day, to watch multitudes try and inculcate creativity. It also doesn't hurt to realise how old I have become.