Cherry Gilchrist
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October 30th, 2012

30/10/2012

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When is a Short Story like a Russian Box?
This article was originally written for the website of the National Short Story Week. The 2012 NSSW happens between Nov 12th - 18th, and you can read details of events, competitions, media broadcasts etc at http://www.nationalshortstoryweek.org.uk/

Taking writing tips from an unusual source
For twelve years I travelled frequently to Russia, visiting artists and craftspeople there. Why would a writer take up such a way of life? Well, this writer has trading genes too, plus an enduring fascination with traditional cultures and stories, which have provided material for several of my books. I found the combination of Russian legends and vibrant folk art irresistible, and I began a business with the aim of bringing Russian traditional arts and crafts to this country. While I made these trips, from 1992-2004, I spent as much time as possible in the four villages where the famous Russian lacquer miniatures are painted. There I talked to the artists and observed how they train and work. I should mention that this also involved celebrating with them frequently - at New Year, birthdays, picnics and just about any other occasion that was good for a shot of vodka and a few toasts!

To give a little background, these miniatures are beautifully executed paintings in tempera or oils, on a papier mache base which is usually in the form of a box. They are lacquered to finish which gives a depth of colour and a luminous quality. Mostly, they portray Russian fairy tales, and they have their roots in the art of icon painting. This gives them a timeless quality. But the art form needs a strong technique. Miniature painting is exceptionally demanding, and there is no room for anything surplus or irrelevant.

I’d like to pass on to you four specific ideas that I gleaned from these artists, and to suggest how they might be applied to writing short stories.

Shape your story carefully

The Russian miniaturist prepares a new composition with great care, usually by making at least one detailed sketch. He or she must be satisfied that it will work as a whole, and ensures that all elements are integrated, so that there is overall harmony.

In terms of the short story, it’s important to get the structure sorted before beginning the actual writing. Does it hold together as something with a beginning, middle and end, which can be written in a relatively short span? Does it have a narrative arc, and does every occurrence play a role in the story? There is no spare room for asides or diversions.

I recently interviewed author Roshi Fernando, who has written Homesick, a prize-winning collection of linked short stories. She exhorts writers to: ‘Plan, plan, plan! Understand where the story’s going. Even if you don’t know all the details, or it’s still hovering in your subconscious you need to have an idea of what’s going to happen.’

Roshi herself works by mapping out the stories on a large sheet of paper, connecting up ideas in a diagrammatic way, listing points to research, key themes and symbols, and incidents to include. This is her equivalent of the artist’s detailed sketch.

‘Every face must express an idea’

Sometimes there are many figures in Russian miniatures – perhaps twenty or more in a painting that measures only around 13cms across. The very best miniaturists make sure that every single one has a place in the composition, it, and expresses individuality. ‘Every face,’ as one highly-esteemed master told me, ‘must express an idea.’

In short stories, there’s a similar need to assess how many characters to include, and make sure that there is a genuine place for them in the narrative,  even if they only appear briefly. They should not be over-characterised, but there has to be ‘an idea’ for each one which serves the story.


Create a combination of poise and dynamism

Unlike short stories, lacquer miniature paintings can’t usually tell the whole story (usually a fairy tale or historical myth) within the one image, so they have to pick one episode to portray. A crisis point is often chosen, but it has to have both poise and dynamism within that depiction. It must be active, but not hectic; we must see clearly what’s going on, but also have an intimation of what has come before, and what might follow. Here, perhaps, artistic technique doesn’t translate directly into writing, but we can draw from this the idea that anticipation and excitement must be built up, but that each moment should have its sense of grace and poise, a kind of clarity that is never overwhelmed by pace or action. We can savour each scene in its own right, while still being propelled forward in the narrative.

Acknowledging and using resources

Finally – although this might come prior to any painting or writing – comes the notion of placing oneself within a noble lineage. Lacquer artists study work that has already been created, and consider it a privilege to paint as inheritors of a tradition. The tradition includes the folk heritage which artists dip into for inspiration: fairy tales have deep significance, communicating ‘the wise thoughts of poor people’, I was told.

So, as writers, we need to investigate our own heritage. In other words, as Roshi Fernando tells us: ‘The only way that you can become a writer is to read - that’s the basis. Read every type of short story, and then experiment.’ Our literary sources may come from a wider range of eras and styles, but the principle is the same. And lacquer artists do experiment; they stretch the boundaries by trying out new colour palettes, contemporary themes – even space travel, for instance – and generally exploring their individual talents and interests. It doesn’t always work, and fit the genre, but that’s part of the creative process. We can take risks too, as writers, and sometimes, something marvellous may come from that.


This article was originally written for the website of the National Short Story Week http://www.nationalshortstoryweek.org.uk/ Copyright Cherry Gilchrist 2011

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Merchants and Traders along the Silk Road

19/10/2012

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The second in an occasional series of posts about the Silk Road, a subject I’ve researched, lectured and written about extensively over the last twenty years. I’ve taken two trips along the Silk Road itself, and visited a number of Silk Road countries separately too – Syria, Uzbekistan and Turkey, for instance.


For nearly two thousand years, merchants travelled the Silk Road routes running from China to the West. Their best-known cargo was of course silk, but many other goods were traded between East and West, including wool, carpets and amber from the West, and mirrors, gunpowder, porcelain and paper from China. Merchants travelled in various groups and guises, from humble foot pedlars to huge caravan trains of camels, stretching literally for miles across the horizon. Other beasts of burden included donkeys, horses and yaks.

It was rare to travel the whole of the Silk Road during most periods of history. Bandits, border skirmishes and unreasonable customs officials made it difficult to trek all the way, so merchandise was often transferred from one group of traders to another en route. Many middlemen make for steep prices, so the final selling price of the goods was often hugely above their original cost. The terrain was difficult, often treacherous, involving high mountain passes, deserts, and severe climates. Just the fact of bringing merchandise safely from one country to another was a near miracle. Some groups of people excelled as Silk Road traders, one example being the long-vanished Sogdians of Central Asia, who were said to send their boys out along the Silk Road from the age of five, and were trading on their own account by the age of 12.

Along the way, merchants stayed at caravanserais. These traditionally consisted of a central courtyard, with water for the animals, and store rooms around the sides on the ground floor. Lodging rooms were on the upper floor, and the sturdy doors were firmly locked at night so that the merchants, their goods and beasts could rest safely. Some of these old caravanserais can still be found in Central Asian countries such as Turkey and Syria. They range from smaller, humbler versions to ones which are the size of cathedrals and almost as grand! At the very best caravanserais, there were proper beds, hot and cold water and even their own shops and banking facilities. Merchants preferred their caravanserais to be beyond the city walls, so that they could arrive and leave easily – the authorities preferred them in the town centre for the opposite reason, so that they could collect taxes due from the caravans before they had a chance to leave the district!



Play the slide show by clicking on first photo. There are lots more pictures hidden from view!
Many stories must have been swapped in the caravanserais, and both folk tales and religious ideas are known to have been ‘traded’ along the Silk Road. If two merchants came from opposite ends of the Silk Road, they could get by in conversation as long as they could each speak a Turkic language. These Turkic languages, spoken over a range of countries, are just about similar enough for people to understand each other, given a little help. One merchant might set up his conversation with another by starting off with an opening such as, ‘My conversation today will relate to camels’.

Other facilities along the way included ‘service stations’ where locals made a living from catering to travellers’ needs. Merchants carrying costly porcelain knew that they could get any breakages mended in Tashkent, for instance, and thus arrive with their goods at least apparently intact. The trade routes stretched from Xian in eastern China to Byzantium, branching off into practically every country in the Middle East. Some scholars claim that Venice was the final destination of the Silk Route – and some archaeologists even quote the UK as a credible terminus, as Chinese silk has been found in the grave of an Iron Age king.

Merchants traded their goods in the bazaars, which are still a feature of life in the Middle and Far East today. The Great Bazaar in Istanbul, named Kapali Carsi, is said to be the finest example of a medieval bazaar. It began as a small strong room, the Bedestan , built in 1461 and swiftly grew until finally it covered 100 acres, and now has 18 gates and about 4000 shops. All kinds of bargaining behaviour was evolved; complex negotiations might be done simply by hand gestures, carried out beneath the cover of a cloth or shawl to prevent prying eyes from knowing what deals were being struck. Bargaining today remains a key feature of the colourful bazaars of Central Asia and beyond, bazaars which still create fabulous, exotic displays to tempt their customers. The Silk Road no longer exists in the same way today, but its spirit is alive its traders and merchandise.


Read some of the myths and legends from the Silk Road in Stories from the Silk Road – Cherry Gilchrist (Barefoot Books 1999)

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Taking the plunge and Going Grey

7/10/2012

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I’ve been undergoing a change of image over the last few months. Let me confess: I decided at the beginning of this year to allow my hair to revert to its natural colour. Or in other words, to go grey.

I hadn’t seen my natural hair colour in its entirety since I was in my early thirties. Which is, well, quite a long time ago.  I remember my parents coming to visit around the time I started to use artificial colour, usually henna then to cover up a few grey strands.

‘Have you dyed your hair?’ asked my mother, staring at me suspiciously.

‘No of course she hasn’t,’ my father snapped at her. ‘Cherry would never do anything so stupid.’

My dark brown hair, with natural touches of red, was in fact a mix from this black-haired father and red-haired mother – the latter reflecting her Welsh Owen ancestry, in which all family branches that I know of have red hair somewhere in their particular family line. I and my hair colour were one, so to speak. I wanted to keep it as it was, so I started to use first henna, then packet colours to hide any unwanted deviation from the original.

I was not the best of home stylists, and when the bathroom began to resemble a slaughterhouse due to my inaccurate aim, I decided it was time to let the professionals take over.

Before I knew it, I was on an expensive treadmill. At the last count, it could be up to £85 for a cut and colour every five or six weeks; my hair grows fast. Any longer without the treatment, and unwelcome, deadening grey would start to show through. I had no idea exactly how much grey I had, though the current hairdresser of the time would give me a percentage count after scrutinising me from all angles.

‘It’s still pretty dark at the back. But 80% grey overall, I’d say.’

Cheery words, and ones that didn’t encourage me to give up my habit. I was worried about looking too old if I let it go, but when I began to envy friends who had never gone down this route, and who looked absolutely fine with white, silver or streaked grey in their hair, I realised that this was telling me something.

One evening about three years ago,  when I was attending a conference in the States, I strayed into a late-night bookshop for a read, having nothing much else to do, and picked up Anne Kreamer’s ‘Going Grey’. This is possibly the only book at all on the subject.  I read most of it standing propped up against the bookcase, which is not a criticism of the book, but more an indication that I was avidly gulping down its contents. Grey, she says, is one of the last taboos for women in this modern age. A high percentage of women are horrified at the thought of going grey, and, if they do, they can suffer discrimination in public and at job interviews. However, the author also quotes her own experiences as she allowed herself to go grey which suggests that in other areas, she was considered to be more genuine and even more attractive once she’d abandoned artifice.

The pros and cons seemed to hang in the balance, though, and I decided to wait. But by the end of last year, I felt enough was enough. My eyebrows didn’t match my hair colour, and my hair colour didn’t harmonise with my skin tone. I didn’t want to pay huge sums to maintain an illusion that was definitely getting past its sell-by date.  I wanted to be me, and I was prepared to take the risk.

This time, I bought my own copy of Kreamer’s book and studied it more carefully. It became an ally, a rare encouragement to go the way nature intended, more or less.

I also found help in my kindly hairdresser, who plainly had her doubts about my taking such an unpopular step, but agreed to work on  toning in the existing colours in my hair with any regrowth of grey, silver, indeterminate dark or whatever else turned up. I was fortunate in that my last dose of dark hair colour faded very quickly, and I never went through a kind of magpie effect as the hair was growing out.

It’s nearly there now. I have blonde streaks which blend in beautifully – and I think I’ll keep that going as a regular boost to my sense of appearance. It will only need doing every three months or so. I’ve also received plenty of compliments of late on well how my silver/blonde/dark mix suits me. I’ve had to put certain brighter colours to the back of the wardrobe – but – yippee! – I can now wear lavender, pale and acid greens, and other pretty, subtle colours that simply made me look washed out before. OK, so there have been one or two people who haven’t recognised me, but I soon put them right. You know who you are.

And it’s taken me a while to recognise myself again, but now I do, and I’m happy and proud to be that person. To be the age I am. And what’s that? Ah, it’s a little too soon to start giving that away! More than 35, anyway.

So what about all these pictures that I’ve been supplying to publishers, websites and universities in connection with my work for the last ten years? I’m afraid they have to go. Which is why today’s the day I start changing my photo. On my website, Twitter, Amazon and all the other public places…..I feel secure in where I’m at – but please don’t dump me just yet because of my grey hair! You won’t, will you?


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    Cherry Gilchrist

    Author of books on family history, relationships, alchemy, myths & legends. Life writing tutor teaching for Universities of Oxford & Exeter. Keen on quirky, ancient and mysterious things.

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