Will Gortoa – Page 5

November 17, 2013December 7, 2013

30-Day Short Story Writing Challenge : Chapter 1

An Introduction

A few weeks ago I met a good friend for a coffee, and we got onto the subject of 30-Day Challenges. Upon returning home I began investigating the principle further. I discovered this succinct but inspirational introduction to the concept with Matt Cutts: Try Something New for 30 Days TED Talk, where he talks about having, among other things, written a novel in 30 Days.

“Is my book the next great American novel? Of course not… I wrote it in a month. It’s awful!”

I also recently saw this equally inspirational and, in turns, genuinely moving and amusing TED Talk by writer Elizabeth Gilbert: Your Elusive Creative Genius, where she talks with a breathtaking eloquence about where creativity comes from. So, in combining Matt’s time-line commitment with Elizabeth’s philosophy to simply turn up and, in doing so, coerce an equal commitment from the genius that lies dormant in the corner of my room… my inertia is about to creep.

Clearly, Matt Cutts’ either had a disturbing amount of time on his hands, or combined a 30-Day Insomnia Challenge with a dedication to insanity in tackling a 50,000 word novel in the time-frame. So, I’m intending to sleep, and teach, and continue to walk Willow, and have a life outside of my bloodshot eyes out on stalks by taking on a 30-Day Short Story Writing Challenge and combining it with my photography. I’ll be posting a chapter and image each day for 30 consecutive days. If the gods and the, up until now, extremely discrete creative writing genius turns up, everything should converge on Day 30 with Chapter 30 and a denouement, of sorts. Well, of only one thing I can be certain… it will come, ready or not. Time waits for no man!

So, strap yourselves in. Or maybe I should be strapping myself in?

Chapter 1

When autumn comes she falls. Her colour slides and fades to a trickle like softly falling rain. He always watched her. The weight of pain. The tears that tumbled into her pillow and mingled with the scent of loss. And her heartbeat would slow to the fluttering of a winged insect trapped inside. He always watched her.

Chapter 2

May 31, 2013June 3, 2013

First Solo Exhibition and The Anatomy Of A Stroke [One Year Plus]

First up: I’ve been organizing my first solo photography exhibition. And I hadn’t quite realised, when supplying everything but the walls, everything can be quite a lot of work! I just about made it – hanging the ten images last night. Time to breathe. Hopefully you’ll all now be booking flights from the four corners of the world for this must see event. Ahem.

Anyhoo… If any of you good [local] folk should head this way, feel free to give me the heads up, and I’ll do my utmost to meet you there. Coffees* are on you! Uh, call it your entrance fee and having the sheer pleasure of my company. Think of me as your photographic pim… uh, escort.

* Oh, yeah, that’s the bonus. Rubicon is a lounge café and chocolatiers. So you can easily be distracted from both my company and images with even more delicious distractible culinary treats.

The Anatomy Of A Stroke [One Year Plus]

Remarkably… we were both clean shaven for the occasion!

When I began the project documenting my father’s battle with his stroke, clearly I had no idea where fate and circumstance might lead us. In my opening public comments I essentially concluded my introduction of the documentary with “…and for what I ultimately truly hope will be an uplifting journey to recovery.” Even when I wrote those words, I wasn’t fully aware, having survived the initial dramatic stroke, how the odds were stacked against him.

Happily, for those who followed the unfolding story, you’ll know that my father was lucky to fall into the third of people having such an event who subsequently go on to make a good recovery.

Once again, thanks for all your support through this difficult period in my/our family’s life. I had mixed feelings about making this public, but I was genuinely overwhelmed by those who took the time to write and offer their support and prayers, etc.

And special thanks to John, Alison, Claudio, Tracie, Louise, Kyre, Chris, Sharon, Hameed, Alex, Robert, Dawn, Jen and Giuliana for taking the time to ask some really quite probing questions, and allowing this to have an ideal completion.

The full Q&A interview can now be read on The Anatomy Of A Stroke website.

March 3, 2013March 4, 2013

Making A Show Of Myself

Skydiving, food poisoning and photographic exhibitions.

You should always be prepared to try something new. As I get older and wiser [it’s all relative], the phrase: The Bucket List looms ever more prominently. Especially when a new Instagram friend of mine [‘Hello, Claire’] crosses off two from her/my[!] list in one go:

1. New Zealand
2. Skydiving

…and she’s barely 20-something! When did 20-somethings begin bucket lists? I must’ve missed that memo 20+ years ago! Now I find myself in a race against time. [Well, when compared to Claire, certainly!] So, this week I attempted to remove something memorable from my list. Both of the above are quite near the top of mine. Much further down, at No.197, is Self-Inflicted Food Poisoning. It wasn’t until later, when I looked at my list more carefully, I realised I’d actually been looking at the wrong one; I’d actually been reading the companion list I made due to my deeply inadequate pension provision: the How To Kick The Bucket List. [No.1 One way ticket to Switzerland for lovely fresh snow, excellent chocolates and the clinic.]

Note: This bucket doesn't appear in my previous blog: To Pee Or Not To Pee... it's merely your warped imagination — Note: This bucket doesn’t appear in my earlier blog: To Pee Or Not To Pee… it’s merely your warped imagination

My wonderful wife and gifted cook went to London for a couple of days. The ingredients for the feast were inadvertently set. Simply add me and some haphazardly prepared chicken breast fillet, thawed from frozen, leaking more juice than a bulging melon suffering water retention.

The stomach pain began later that evening. By morning my body was wracked with pain through every sinew, rolling its eyes at itself with hands on hips wagging an accusing finger as it began the arduous task of expelling the invader from all available, umm, ports.

It must be said, the human body can be a wholly remarkable thing in the face of adversity, or even idiocy, given the chance. Essentially sidelined by its impressive intervention, I was a mere spectator. I just wish I could’ve also been stood a bit further back. Instead, it dragged me along too, out onto the high seas in a Force 9, breached above and below decks for close on 48 hours. It wasn’t pretty out there, but we finally made it back to the harbour, an arm draped around each other’s shoulder, feeling like we’ve learned something from the experience. We’ve really bonded, and forgiven ourselves, especially since all the leaking stopped.

The moral of this story? If ever I invite you around a for a chicken dinner… wear a disappointed expression and a hazmat suit bearing the logo Nil By Mouth.

Exhibitions

Altogether a more satisfying Show Of Myself. I was really delighted to have another image in the latest MA Doran Gallery exhibition Valentine’s Group Show 2013, deepening and/or broadening my metaphorical American footprint. And I can now also confirm my involvement in F-Number at The Grant Bradley Gallery, which opens with a Private View on Friday 8th March 6 – 9pm, then runs until the end of the month.

I will be showing 4 images from the Where The Land Meets The Sea series; as well as the [rather gorgeous] large landscape book produced for the joint show in Oklahoma with Michelle Firment Reid and a full set of the companion individual note/gift cards; the large framed version of The Falling Leaf; and a further 20 16″ x 10″ prints culled mostly from my street photography work.

“Accidents that never happened
Loves that never could have been
Falling from a rock onto a soft place
Fall somewhere in between”

– ‘Show Of Myself’ : Nick Kelly [The Fat Lady Sings]

January 2, 2012April 8, 2012

So, That Was 2011 : Photography

A sprinkling of memorable images from 2011. I was going to say ‘favourite’, but didn’t feel comfortable with having one of my dad falling under that particular epithet! So, they’re [arguably] some of my stronger images from the year: from the often quirky and entirely unexpected street photography moments, through an example of more formal portrait diversions [with Young Wife, Alice, the perfect subject : )] and the emotional response to the Japanese earthquake* and my father’s recent stroke.

* Comfortably one of my most satisfying photographic moments of the year: an image of mine selling for 150UKP to raise money for the Japanese earthquake appeal. Thanks Helen! : )

(Source: http://bighugelabs.com/onblack.php?id=6608902809&size=large)

November 3, 2011June 14, 2020

Chewing Gum For The Eyes

Television’s moments are seemingly getting fewer and fewer and further and further between. It’s virtually reached the point now where I don’t even look any more without receiving some prior, reliable endorsement.

The paucity of imagination across all networks and stations is miserably palpable; maintaining a curious more is less philosophy. Who is watching all these relentless makeover [both personal and house], antique, minimal IQ quizzes and cooking shows? I mean, there are only so many students sat around contemplating going to a lecture; and they can’t afford to buy anything that the advertisers are attempting to sell them. [Aside from a shotgun, when it slowly dawns on them just how large their student debt has become!]

And then there’s the vacuous, brain-dead Saturday night market; when you stumble across a ratings winner then repeat it ad nauseam for years and years and fill it with presenters whose frantic delivery seemingly can’t hide their genuine joy and astonishment that they’re being paid handsomely for this refried leftovers of ever diminishing returns.

From Sir Bruce Forsyth… [Yeah, finally! So can we please now strap him to a bath chair and mop up his relentless, repetitive, dribbling platitudes! Not so much in his twilight years as his undead years!] …to Gok Wan and his ongoing desire to shotblast, overhaul and see the entire country’s frumpy women naked. How To Look Good Naked, it seems, is soft focus lenses, cleverly disguised lighting and shooting from above to avoid the multiple chins. In other words, all the same techniques utilised by the fashion industry and associated magazines which have mercilessly torn asunder these women’s self-esteem in the first place. Oh, the irony. I could almost give them a slap.

Actually, better than that: ditch Gok Wan, recommission with Burt Kwouk, and he can leap out of wardrobes and try and kill the whining harpies. I might watch that… for one series.

Burt Kwouk goes about his work with gusto in the newly recomissioned How To Look Good Naked