LIKE JAZZ-AGE PROCLAMATIONS from the ateliers of 1920s Paris – a stirring call-to-arms faire tomber les barrières, undercut with pompously vain self-regard – the Undergrowth Manifesto beckons you in.
All aims doubtless to be broken in a matter of days, but whatever! At least it’s a taste of my intentions. It’s like an “About” page, but with swagger.
I have mixed feelings about the tone. I can be a bit much. Anyway, here is the…
I, under the banner of Undergrowth, will avoid urban pretension and literary affectation. My words spring from the soil and from the sea-shore, from the flatlands and from the hills. I am outside the city, boots on the clay, standing in counterpoint to the cacophony of boom-towns and downtowns.
The hinterland is my muse, but the world is my canvas. I reject no subject, no matter how distant from my fields and forests.
I shall strip language as bare as a frosted branch, and rebuild it with clarity and without cliché. I aim for beauty and candour, in poetry, prose, fiction, reportage, essays, photography and art.
(Brace! Brace! For the rousing finale, like I’m André Breton or something…)
From the heartlands, I raise my voice! Hear the thunder of my typewriter! The rustle of my pages in the wind! The chirrup of my camera’s shutter! I am the rural voice, rooted in the earth, with my eyes on the horizon!
Hold on! Hold hands! And A. B. C. – Always Be Creating!
Enjoyed this post? Feeling generous?
THE SCENE: You return from the counter in our favourite café, place a latte on my table, maybe even cake. We do not talk – we may talk some other time – but nevertheless you’re so… gratified!… to have given me a small token of your warm regard 😍, encouraging me to keep writing. Plus, the glow of tribute! You are a Patron Of The Arts! You pick the amount, from the price of a coffee:
(Any one-off donors and paid subscribers can opt in to getting an Executive Producer credit right here on Undergrowth. Tubular!)
On y va, comrade!