(1.03)
Erica Smith
was the first person to publish my writing. She is hot stuff.
She is the kingpin of the family tree of most of my friends. She
can do anything. Here's a little interview with her, and a tiny
ghost story she wrote too. What are you? A cartoonist? A writer? An illustrator? An editor?
All and none of the above. I suppose what I really am, is fascinated by words and possibilities - and I'm not scared of making things happen. By trade I'm an information designer (doesn't that sound boring). I like to make sense out of things, and use words and graphics to do that. Every now and again the idea for a story or a comic might pop into my head and I usually have to do something with it or it stays there buzzing around and annoying me. I don't draw much these days. I'm a terrible artist, and the less I do, the harder it gets. I earn my living by being a self-employed graphic designer. I mainly work for 'third sector' organisations (small charities, local educational institutes). I only work for people that I like - the buzz I get is from working with someone and using a small budget to communicate what they want to say as effectively as possible.
What's GirlFrenzy?
GirlFrenzy started off as a zine about ten years ago - the name just popped into my head, and I just had to do something with it. I produced six issues of GirlFrenzy as a 32 page A4 occasional publication, and a 100 page book. Then it transformed into a spoken word night. GirlFrenzy has always been 'by women for people,' and comprised of half articles and half comic strips. It has always been enjoyed as much by men as by women. I wanted to encourage women to write and draw and perform because (particularly ten years ago, but even now), women tend to be more reluctant than men to push their work out to an audience. GirlFrenzy pre-dated riotgrrrl, and things have changed a lot since then. I got loads of grief from 'feminists' for the first issue because it included images that they felt degraded women, and an article by a woman about how she found top shelf porn a turn on. Looking at it now, it's hard to believe it was considered shocking.
Another GirlFrenzy triumph was when DC comics stole the name to use to promote a series of comics about women super heroes. I was furious... especially since only one of the creative staff on the project was a woman. They acknowledged my right to the name, agreed to pay me a usage fee, and not reprint. That might not seem much of a triumph, but they could so easily have chosen to squash me with their might Time Warner dollars and lawyers. The lawyer I had to deal with at DC was called Lillian Laserson - with a name like that, she should have had her own comic.
Why did you leave Brighton?
I left Brighton because I could no longer afford to live there unless I stayed in a dysfunctional housing co-op or squatted. I wasn't prepared to pay expensive rent to an already rich middle-class landlord to fund their second pension when I don't even have a first pension. Quite frankly, I think Brighton is dying. All the well-shod Londoners are moving in because it's an 'interesting and radical' place to be, but all the movers and shakers are moving on, and the Londoners are too tired after commuting all week to do anything except sit around in pseudo-London bars consuming designer drinks from bottles and paying to be entertained. To live in Brighton now, you either have to:
a: already own property or have secure affordable long term rented housing
b: be very rich or have a job in London
c: be very, very poor and a canny dole-scrounger and/or seriously fucked up. Even if you aren't fucked up to begin with, years of poverty and dodging government schemes will fuck you up unless you're an exceptionally tough cookie.
How important to you is the place where you live?
Extremely important. After moving an average of once every six months in the last three years, I finally feel settled. I've never really liked London. I like living somewhere that's small enough to walk from one side to the other in a few hours. I like being part of a community - seeing the same faces around and about, even if you don't know who they are, and I love reading the local paper. I also like living by the sea. I don't use it much, but I like the definite boundary. I've got a terrible sense of direction, and it makes getting home much easier. Where I live now is a beautiful town. I love walking round it - getting to know it is like getting to know a new lover. Also, over the last three years I've hardly done anything creative - I was too busy coping with moving and surviving. Now I'm settled again, I'm getting more creative ideas.
For what would you sell your soul?I'm not sure if I could. I've tried working for people and organisations that I don't like, and it made me physically ill. That probably sounds very goody-two-shoes. Sorry about that. If you pushed me, I'd say I'd sell my soul if it guaranteed a society where there is no such thing as inherited wealth. The class system isn't so defined these days, but it is fairly obvious that nearly all the people who end up rich and/or famous have a financial support system, usually provided by mummy and daddy.
You are one of the most popular people I know. What tips do you have for making friends with people?
I like people. I can't help myself. Maybe I'm just plain nosy, but I like all sorts of different kinds of people. And I find it hard not to get to know lots of people. Also, I very rarely bitch about people. There are better things to do than waste time dissing - but if I think someone is acting out of order, I'm not scared of telling them to their face. I was quite a shy, ugly, chubby kid, and also, though I didn't realise it at the time, a natural non-conformist. I am particularly drawn to people who don't quite fit in, because I know what it's like to feel that you don't quite belong in this world, and I appreciate the spirit and bravery you need to sort through those things, and work out your own direction. Mind you, I've realised that there are limits to how many people you can have really rewarding friendships with, and I have boundaries now. I'm a generous soul, but if it becomes apparent that people take more than they give on a regular basis, I give up on them.
What makes you happiest?
Oh - lots of very ordinary things make me happy... going out dancing on half an E, being loved, getting back a job from the printer and being pleased with it, walking over the hill and down through the little alley ways into the old town, cycling, bumping into my friends out of the blue, getting a bargain, hot sex with my girlfriend. And finally, after nearly 40 years, feeling like I've got a secure home and a partner who is big and brave enough to love me for who I am makes it much easier to feel happy.
Is there anything else you'd like to say?
I hate the way so many people are not honest - not even with themselves. Lots of people are really cowardly when it comes to taking responsibility - within their relationships, and on a much broader political level. It's so easy to be a passive consumer that people rarely bother to get off their bums and make their voices heard about political decisions that are being made 'on our behalf'. I hate people who moan about stuff that's happening, but do nothing to try and stop it, or change things for the better. I'm quite a cynical person, but I'm not prepared to just give up. I hate that kind of passivity. If you get your sexual kicks from dressing up as an adult baby, that's fine by me, but I don't have time for adults who don't take responsibility for their own lives, or how their actions affect the people around them.
And now I'm off to see a magic lantern slide show. You don't get that kind of entertainment on a Friday night in Brighton. Have a lovely 2003 everyone!
Ghost Story
By Erica Smith
I tried hard to stop moving into the Cat House, but it had a strong pull on me. The lead-panelled windows plastered with stickers for animal charities was the first thing that attracted me.
When you move into a squat, you can't help bu
t get to know the people who lived there. The little pieces that made up their life surround you.
On the fourth day, I left the house empty for the first time. When I returned I found a scrawled note that said, "Get out you Bastards. She will haunt you". The note was scary, but I wasn't worried about Mrs Brown haunting me. I knew she was glad that I was there.
I've never got to know a dead person before, but I couldn't help feeling that Mrs Brown had wanted me to move in because she needed someone to do the sorting out and remembering. By the time I got there, she'd been dead for eighteen months. The house had been broken into several times, and clothes and broken crockery were scattered around. Tubs of parma ham, bought to tempt a failing appetite were dried to pot pourri; boxes that had held medals, were empty. I found Christmas cards and animal sanctuary appeals and shopping lists and numerous photographs of pets, but no family addresses and no Will.
I did find some cards reserving grave plots. I guessed that they were for Mrs Brown and her husband and daughter - both of whom had died before her. In the fifth week, on the day after Boxing Day, I decided to go to the cemetery to find the graves. It was a typical post-Christmas limbo day. The cemetery was dilapidated, there was no way of finding out where the graves might be, and no-one to ask. I started walking up and down the rows, looking at all the names and dates. I went past a man and two little girls tending a grave. The older child came up and asked me what I was looking for. I told her that I was looking for the graves of Ivy and Arthur and Sheila Brown. She helped me look, but we couldn't find them. She told me she had come to visit her little sister's grave. Eventually I realised the search was futile and went home. It was a long walk through grey suburban streets. It felt like nothing had changed since the 1950s. I found a cafe that was open and stopped to warm up before going back to the squat. I didn't feel like hurrying home.
When I finally got back, I was just about to pull the door shut when the little girl from the cemetery ran round the corner and said hello to me. Then she said, "I knew the lady who used to live here. She gave us a dog to look after".
I had gone to a graveyard to find a dead person, and found a live person who knew her.