Rochefoucauld no 29. — The evil that we do does not attract to us…

April 8, 2018


… so much persecution and hatred as our good qualities.







The Sorceress from Dalston Ballet’s Mayfair Tarot.

April 8, 2018


Michelle S as the Sorceress


Rckay Rax Music




Gar O’Dwyer, Director

Mayfair Tarot 2018





no 10. [of 504] – In the human heart there is a perpetual generation of passions; so that…

April 4, 2018


the ruin of one is almost always the foundation of another.



from the 504

Sentences and 

Moral Maxims


Francois Duc De La Rochefoucauld

art /film project seeks editor /artist to deal with this >

March 31, 2018

Dalston Ballet

Art Music Performance Dance Live

with Visiting Artists

Alvin Jedus – Tasmine A – Spindel H – Yumi H – Alice H

Rckay Rax – Manon A – Sadiq Ali – Qila Foufou

contact gar @ houseofodwyer . com to show interest


Fave pic so far of Dalston Ballet @SKETCH like on facebook/dalston ballet

March 30, 2018

film out later this year!


photo Alice Herrick

model Qila Foufou



#dalston #ballet #May #fair #tarot #Exile, #alienation, #weaving #wounds #into #work #brace

March 28, 2018

Exile, alienation, weaving wounds into work,

work for thee to do, social misfit, bitter sweet,

unlucky in love, in life, in art.

You, you’re not serious enough,

flesh and bone nothing to where.

nothing about my life

perfect proportions

Serious is not the same as solemn

brace, brace, brace29571435_10160402750770651_997827114103947037_n.jpg

photo Alice herrick

model Qila foufou

for Dalston Ballet & house of o’dwyer



programme / running order – Mayfair Tarot / Dalston Ballet @Sketch

March 26, 2018

nu de rections in post con art – DALSTON BALLET – march 27th Sketch

with visiting associate artists: Rckay Rax + Qila Foufou + Sue F + Marianne Jesse Hyatesque +Alice H + Michelle S + Aiden T + Jasmin + Jordan B + house of o’dwyer

Mayfair TAROT – 2018

Section 1 – sir butternut

Rckay Rax – guitar improv – who’s looking at who –

2nd performer appraising audience as if they are exhibits.             5 min

mini break music dj – 1 track

Section 2 – moose

AIDEN & ALICE – chair, pose, draw, sheet, body, paint,

MUSIC Rckay Rax – turn your attention to the screen                        5 min

mini break music dj – 1 track


MUSIC = performers

Marianne                                                                                                3 min

Aiden,                                                                                                            3 min

Jordan                                                                                                  3 min

Member of public                                                                                     1 min

mini break music dj – 1 track

Section 4 – nightclub singer

MICHELLE = singing wandering star

MARIANNE = music acoustic guitar                                                4 min 

mini break music dj – 1 track

Section 5 – Principessa

     JORDAN /

Music = Rckay Rax                                                                                    4 min

mini break music dj – 1 track

Section 6 – Dark Lord


Music = Rckay Rax – PISS PEACE                                                            4 min

mini break music dj – 1 track

Section 7 – Empress


Music =                                                                                                 4 min            

mini break music dj – 1 track

Section 8 – Ninja


Music = Savage track                                                                                    3min

mini break music dj – 1 track

SECTION 9 – sa sue fee

Qila fou fou – spoken word                                                                        1 min

mini break music dj – 1 track

SECTION 10 – Marine


Music = Rckay Rax                                                                                    4 min

mini break music dj – 1 track

Section 11 – witch. / SOCERESS / GODDESS


Music = Rckay Rax                                                                                    4 min

mini break music dj – 1 track

SECTION 12 – Interpretation of the tarot =


Exile, alienation, weaving wounds into work,

work for thee to do, social misfit, bitter sweet,

unlucky in love, in life, in art…

…you’re not serious enough,

flesh and bone nothing to where nothing about my life

perfect proportions


Come back fashion show style –


… Being serious is not the same as being solemn

brace brace brace

SECTION 14 – Artists studio party

ALL – free style – shout keyword / HOLD OBJECT

fierce Music = Rckay Rax =

led off by dark lord waving dildo


key words / objects

Qila foufou = Ohm

Sue F = savage

Marianne Jesse Hyatesque = echo

Alice H = tantalus

Michelle S = ?

Aiden T = garbage

Jasmin = power

Jordan B = ?


total = 44 mins

da end

editors, agents, publishers lend me your eyes! Short story [1240 words] for end of term: Pointing the finger by Gar O’Dwyer. plz advise!

March 25, 2018

This is a rough 2nd draft. Any feedback / advice / suggestions gratefully received.

Pointing the finger – (1242 words)

A metaphor. How to describe the arms  being raised of many individuals, rising to point at the figure up on, upon, the apex of the dark grey roof of the old Georgian house. Describing this was the task I had set myself. That was actually what I was writing when that question arose once more: What are you writing about? Really? This question? How do you answer? It always really did my head in. I had a figure on the roof, a character fleeing, or returning, or trespassing, or all three. What the hell is s/he doing up there? Of course I am not just writing about that. But what then am I really writing about? I’m writing about…

A community gives away its soul by the colour of the roofs of its buildings. As such I’m convinced that all nations flags should reflect this. They should be roof coloured. England shall lead the way with the creation of a mostly grey flag with patches of moss green at its dampest corner. Sweden will have a red flag. I’ll let you come up with ideas for other countries.

The hands rose and fell like the heads of birds at a watering hole. Toooo much? The awkwardness of ‘watering hole.’ It sounds too much like a rattling train carriage.

The hands rise and fall like the sleek black heads of crows a-flock a field, squawking and cawing between their gleaning piston like dips at the furrowed earth, select instinctively selecting the morsels to sustain them for the next few days of fight, romance, competition and puzzle solving. You know, life on earth.

A swarm, a gaggle, a… birds of a feather, flocking… One-second beaks down pecking at their prey, the next, extended neck, beak poking at the air, eyes darting, dangers assessed, harvesting in fear, constantly alert for ‘It’. The enemy. Why?

Why could I not reach an answer to that question: What are you writing about? What was I writing about? Why is the question so tough? Too tough. Then the epiphany. The answer. The discovery. I was writing about…

My novel was written and at re-editing stage. A middle, a beginning, and an end. Why could I not for the life of me fathom what the hell it was about? Why did I have no answer to that question? What the f*** are you writing about? Answer! What are your themes? Themes? What is it about in one line? 50 words? I don’t know! For weeks I asked myself this question, and could only answer: I don’t know!

Then as I said the epiphany had come. It came as I thought about a way of describing the figure on the roof; the grey roof with a corner of moss green. I knew what it was about. I pictured the crowd’s arms rising, pointing, , at the character on the roof and falling again. That was it. I knew. But there was more. Multiply epiphanies surged through my organism. Waves of euphoria tinged with a sense of enlightenment, tinged with a sense of, Is that all there is to art?

Something flushed through me, out from my chest, my head, all the way to my extremities. I was on fire. I was in the Zone. I was like a surfer on the crest of a swell. Metaphor. Waxing and waning. The rush. Let me stop there. I have wandered off track too far. What was it about? My writing? Did I want to actually know? Do you really actually want to know? I’ll end here then. Without a conclusion, just a question. That is the fashion ‘these days,’ the open ended ending, ending on a question. What do you think happened? Pah! So weak. It happens a lot in films too. e.g. [list of films.] A late modern fashion that seeks to signify a more refined intellect and sensibility. There is good and bad pretension. I’ll let you decide which category this falls into! Maybe in the case of film, no one ever gets anymore to the end of a script, leaving what might once have been radical gesture, pose, to be a stylistic unquestioned trope signifying status (superiority) and tribal allegiance of a self selecting elite. As I digress, to discuss this late modern fashion for inconclusive endings, a smart arse, smug fear of coming down on one side or another, I ‘suddenly’ realise (Oh why are there not more words for suddenly, in English!?) I suddenly realise that I have no story in this story! Whaaaaat! Wrong. There is a story. It is a story about someone, me, probably, writing a story and as they do so, they ask themselves: ‘What am I really writing about? And realising that they just don’t know what they are really writing about. In one way this would actually amount to them (me) not knowing who they really are. One theme of the novel. Who am I? What can we discover about ourselves? Time for a mysterious death maybe?

I’m twisting your melon man! Or as I like to say, just messing with your mangoes; or I’m just twisting your turnips, dude. 

Here the manuscript ended…


     Got you again! lol. Can I say lol? It was more a sharp loud shriek to be honest. So here goes. The epiphany. Though it no longer seems so woah! now, today, rereading. But I’ve got thus far. I must go on. Done the build up (really?) Yes. A character writes a story and realises he doesn’t know what he is writing about. S/he begins a quest to find the truth… on the quest s/he has an epiphany.

[Insert epiphany here.]

So the epiphany is here. Near the end. But not the end in terms of structure. No.

[p.t.o for the epiphany]

Here it is. I was writing about predators. Do you love it? I was writing about predators. Who wasn’t? * Was this the epiphany worth waiting for? We don’t really want to know who we are. No. We want to know who wants something from us? And why? Who is who? Not who am I? But, Who are you? And why are you fucking with me? Doorbell. Bollocks…

I’m back in the room. From narcissists, to thrill killers, from pick pockets to rapists, from meek and mild Matilda, to vile voracious Ted Bundy: we are all on the predator spectrum. We all have predator traits to some degree. And then it happened: The ultimate epiphany; the multiply epiphany, the transcendental epiphany of ecstasy, the epiphany that keeps on giving. [This is why I write. For the epiphany.] Isn’t that what all storytelling is / was / has been about? Beware! Predators at work. All Art in fact is about this central concern, conceit. It is the key to our creativity. I am bathed in euphoric contentment; a mini high, a tentative bliss, at the very idea. I understand. All art is about predation.

I returned to listening to the lecture playing in the background as I came out the other side of the epiphany. On the roots of Romanticism. A lecture given by Isaiah Berlin to a lecture hall full of attentive listeners in Cambridge, some decades past.

Questions. Where was he on the predator spectrum? Where was I?

I needed a title for this small essay slash story. I closed my eyes to focus on what the philosopher was telling us… But before long I was gone…




Dalston Ballet, live art collective, also create film, e.g. this short. Mars and Venus #art4reel #notevenjokintho

March 25, 2018

welcome new visiting associate artist with Dalston Ballet Michelle Sarah #michellesarah #shesgotit #dalstonballet

March 24, 2018

michelle pic 1.jpg

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