UNDERNEATH THE BUNKER

[Introduction to the series]

By Maria Novak

Allow me to be plain with you. My proposal is as follows. Artists/writers/poets take inspiration from many things. They are magpies; the world is their oyster; they skip over the jump-ropes of genre with childish ease etc. They are, according to Leo Barnard, the ‘astronauts of far flung ideas’. The sense is of travel over great distances; of the brain’s cosmic range; of research much broader than that to which the mere academic is used. The mind of the true artist journeys afar – or so it is thought. And yet, as my own research has consistently proved, the regular patterns of artistic thought are actually shaped by the narrow environment in which a singular artist moves. I talk here of the working environment, that which Signorelle calls the ‘base camp’; most frequently no more than a room set aside, consciously or otherwise, for the purpose of imaginative creation.

How have I explored this? I showed how abstract artist Paul Vergeven was unknowingly inspired by the furniture introduced into the house by his home-improvement obsessed wife; how the eccentric architecture of poet Danae Hoppos’s house is reflected in her work (most particularly ‘Elegy for an Olive’) and why we will never understand the philosopher Timothy Montague-Haarke until we take a closer look into his fridge. Read the rest of this entry »

[Introduction to the series]

By Jinpes Terenk

Far too often the potential held by a piece of writing acts as a smokescreen for critics; subtlety nudging them away from the practicalities of its origins. And I speak for myself as much as for all those other blind mole rats scraping about in the dirt of European culture. Having entertained thoughts on the de Roquet rooms for some time, it was only yesterday that I responded to the simplest of questions concerning its creation – how did she manage to write on the ceiling? That she was not given free use of a step ladder is no less than a certainty. And though it is perfectly possible that what small furniture she did have could have been arranged to form some sort of tower-like structure, no one has yet gone so far as to explain exactly how this may have been set up. Nor has anyone sought the good counsel of an orthopaedic surgeon to determine the total strain on the neck caused by writing a novel on a high ceiling. And whilst the answers to these questions may not be especially interesting in themselves, the fact that so many have neglected to ask them is undoubtedly significant. What is about you lot that makes you so apprehensive about the fundamentals? In your eagerness to prise out pearls, you discard the shells wherein much of the worthy content really lies. Read the rest of this entry »

[In early 2007 I penned the following introduction to three critical approaches to the de Roquet rooms. Essential reading, if I may say so myself...]

Unless, like the proverbial ostrich (that well-known ornithological ignoramus) you have had your pretty head lodged in the sands of sciolism for the last four months or so, you will not require me to inform you that the de Roquet rooms are, at long last, open to visitors. In the generally gentle world of obscure European literature, this news could be said to have arrived with the force of a thunderbolt wielding elephant riding on the back of a meteorite. Outside of this relatively closed microcosm it may be said to have made as much of an impression as a nimble feather falling in an ocean during a vociferous storm. But you are one of us, are you not? You understand the profound significance of those things; you grasp the cogent potential that may be seen to coat the surface of seemingly nugatory disclosures. For was it not as far back as 1978 when we first put our names to the de Roquet petition? When, warm-blooded youngsters as we were, we marched along the streets of La Monche in our hundreds (or tens, maybe) holding aloft aesthetically – if not grammatically – challenging banners: ‘Ouvrir Les Chambres De Roquet!’ Read the rest of this entry »