Baileys prize goes to The Power, a dystopian thriller with a feminist twist

Alderman does not dwell on sentence-to-sentence literary effect – she has a good ear for dialogue, which is particularly strong in the sequences featuring Roxy, the daughter of a London criminal. Suddenly the most menacing sight is that of a teenage girl empowered with the ability to inflict pain and even death with a finger’s touch. Imagine a Guy Ritchie movie and you will easily stride into a book which gathers pace, particularly from about the half way marks of its 340 vivid pages. Alderman, who was born in London, appears to have looked that bit closer at our ongoing mess. The human race needs to recall, or in many cases, finally develop some semblance of fair play. Dystopian? Photograph: Tabatha Fireman/Getty Images Told with panache and imagination, it is unapologetically commercial and is already a bestseller, probably well en route to becoming the bestselling Baileys winner to date. If President Trump could read a book, or even if he possesses the ability to experience shame, The Power, might make him cringe. If ever there was a reader-friendly book, this is it. The Power, a brave and shrewd choice, takes one by the shoulder and shakes any lingering traces of complacency There were two books which seemed likely to challenge Alderman: Stay with Me by the Nigerian debut novelist Ayobámi Adébáyo and Do Not Say We Have Nothing by Canadian-born Madeleine Thien, the daughter of Malaysian-Chinese immigrant parents. Photograph:Tabatha Fireman/Getty Images Alderman, who also designs games and writes a smartphone adventure app, succeeds in being savvy without appearing oppressively knowing. Alderman may be a feminist yet seems to be more interested in fair play by and for all humans and has written a narrative of wide-ranging appeal. This year’s shortlist of six included a previous winner, Linda Grant, who was this time shortlistedfor The Dark Circle, set in 1950s Britain and a tuberculosis sanatorium. My head would have voted for Thien’s accomplished, somewhat symphonic third novel which looks at the tragic evolution of modern China. It is Alderman’s fourth novel and it bears the influence of her mentor, Canadian seer Margaret Atwood, with wit, candour, astute insight and graphic violence. Her vision is neither sentimental nor nostalgic, or soft in any way; her sense of irony has led her to a profound conclusion about the corrupting taint of power – no matter who wields it. Naomi Alderman: her sense of …

Minding Frankie: Maeve Binchy’s bittersweet novel comes to the stage

– Until June 17th Is she sure it’s his, he ventures. Fans of Maeve Binchy, our national laureate of the bittersweet, might have similar concerns about the guardianship of her work. Gaiety Theatre, Dublin *** “I knew you were a good man,” Stella tells Noel during this tender adaptation of Maeve Binchy’s 2010 novel. Similarly, director Peter Sheridan prefers to keep things cosy, treating Noel’s alcoholism in comically wobbling interludes and repentant hangovers. Protective and reassuring, it shields us from harsher realities, determined to care for us as best it can. That attitude, together with an automatic deference to religion (even an AA meeting ends on a prayer), may seem as safely confined to the 1980s as the costumes. But, like Noel’s alcoholism, there’s a shameful culture beneath its surface from which we are still reeling. On a set stretched to fill the Gaiety stage (Breda Cashe’s modest production transfers here following a tour of intimate venues), which designer Ciara Murane has given the pastel colours and simple geometries of a kindergarten class, Noel’s approach can be similarly elementary, willing to do everything it takes “to be the best mother I can be”. As the over-invested social worker, Barrett’s Moira hints at complicated family dynamics, herself the daughter of a critical and distant mother, yet still adamantly disapproves of single parenthood. “Do you think if I had a list, I’d pick you?” she counters. Here, her adapter Shay Linehan has whittled the cast down to two protagonists, Noel and the social worker Moira Tierney (played by the staggeringly versatile Clare Barrett) with a range of other characters supplied by the duo. Linehan also cut right to the chase: Noel is determined to prove himself a worthy parent, while an over-invested Moira is determined to prove he is not. To be honest, they both make compelling cases. “A man who could mind someone.” This comes as some surprise to Noel (lovably played by Steve Blount), feckless and fidgeting, who is easy going by nature but hard drinking by years of practice. Asked to raise the child alone, whom she has already named Frankie, Noel protests that he is resolutely unqualified. Equally surprising is the news that he is to be a father, with this salty Dublin woman and loose acquaintance, now facing her own death in a hospital oncology ward while pregnant with their baby. This production prefers to tilt sunnily …

New €10,000 Moth Poetry Prize to replace Ballymaloe International Poetry Prize

“We’ve had six great years with Darina Allen and Ballymaloe Cookery School sponsoring the prize, for which we are very grateful, but we now want to concentrate on developing the international brand that is The Moth magazine.” Rebecca O’Connor and Will Govan, publishers of the art & literature magazine The Moth Daljit Nagra was the first poet to win the Forward Prize for both his first collection of poetry and its title poem The €10,000 prize for a single unpublished poem (with three runner-up prizes of €1,000) will continue as The Moth Poetry Prize. “We really believe this prize can make a difference to poets’ lives, and we’re very proud of our past winners,” said Rebecca O’Connor. The closing date for the prize is December 31st. For further details see www.themothmagazine.com “We felt it was time,” said Will Govan. And we’re so thrilled to have Daljit Nagra judge this year.” Nagra was the first poet to win the Forward Prize for both his first collection of poetry and its title poem. The four shortlisted poems will appear in the spring issue of The Moth and the poets will be invited to read at a special award ceremony at Poetry Ireland in Dublin in the spring of 2018. The criteria for the prize remains the same, with entries welcome from anywhere in the world, and from anyone over 16. The publishers of the art & literature magazine The Moth, who have been producing the Ballymaloe International Poetry Prize for the last six years, one of the most valuable poetry prizes in the world for a single poem, have decided to part ways with their sponsor and go it alone. “We look forward to meeting many more winners – of The Moth Poetry Prize. He recently published his third collection of poetry with Faber, British Museum, and teaches poetry at Brunel University London and is poet in residence for BBC Radio 4.

Jennifer Johnston: chronicler of Ireland’s hidden civil wars

It is great to see her most recent novel, Naming the Stars, received the attention it deserves, as it was initially only released in e-book format, due to its length, before now being handsomely published – in companionship with an older novel, Two Moons. I love so much about her, not least the fact that she is the ultimate writer’s writer, perpetually midway through writing a book and already fretting about how to write the next one. I never meet her without walking away lost in admiration and a sense of awe that has never gone away since I first read her back in the mid-1970s. Johnston is one of Ireland’s greatest living writers. But Johnston drops her into the hospital and a confrontation with her past, because there seems to be nobody else who can take charge and lift the burden of duty from her. The tone is conversational throughout, mild and unthreatening in capturing the tiny private world these two old women live within, but that quiet tone begins to subtly home in on sharply observed insights into childhood hurt, betrayal and discreetly hidden familial cruelties. As with Samuel Beckett, the novels of Jennifer Johnston grow shorter and wiser as she grows older, so that they have come to embody brevity and resigned, earned, razor-sharp wisdom. The hallmarks of most of her works are to be deliberately low-key and often shot through with dark humour and she is capable of summoning unforgettable characters with the sparsest sentences. For her longstanding readers, Naming the Stars is yet another book to treasure, but for new readers it marks a good starting point into the true treasure trove of work. I’ve started writing again’ Johnston is one of Ireland’s greatest living writers. His latest work is The Lonely Sea and Sky (New Island) She simply appears every three years with another small, intensely crafted volume to be treasured by lovers of good writing It is a wonderful, evocative and at times chilling novel; only 91 pages long, but carrying the punch and depth of any novel three times its length. She is a master at subtly coming at subjects from different prospective – like, for example, in Foolish Mortals, where an ex-wife finds herself summoned to the hospital bedside of the man who left her for another woman, just as she is coming to terms with the pain of being abandoned and …

Liam Neeson (65 today): Not quite ready for his bus pass

That bus pass won’t be needed just yet. In the 37 years since John Boorman plucked him from a Dublin stage to play Sir Gawain in Excalibur, his career has had peaks (The Mission, Darkman, Schindler’s List, Michael Collins) and troughs (the lucrative but irredeemable Star Wars: The Phantom Menace). The Irish News reports that Neeson took time out of his “hectic filming schedule” (is there any other sort?) last week to enjoy some “early birthday festivities” in his home town, where he stayed with his sister Elizabeth, spending time with close family and friends. And the good folk of Ballymena can still live in hope that some day he’ll get to play their other most famous Big Man, Ian Paisley. In truth, not many 65-year-olds look anything like Liam Neeson, but then that’s one of the reasons he’s a multi-millionaire movie star and they’re not. Soon he’s due to follow in the footsteps of Humphrey Bogart and Robert Mitchum by playing Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe, and a bunch of other thrillers are in the pipeline. Honour declined Neeson made peace with Ballymena when he received the Freedom of the Borough in 2013.That was 13 years after he had declined the honour after members of the DUP voiced objections to his comments that he had felt like a “second-class citizen” growing up as a Catholic there. We’re going to have to wait a long time to see what Liam Neeson might look like as an old man, to judge by his still ridiculously youthful visage. Revenge thrillers The massive box office success of the Taken revenge thrillers, which reinvented Neeson as an action hero in his late 50s, shouldn’t obscure the breadth and depth of his life as a movie actor. Ballymena’s most famous native son officially reaches pensionable age today. Pictures of him as Mark Felt, the real Deep Throat, in upcoming Watergate drama The Silent Man do show him gaunt and grey-haired, but he looked much more spry in a social media post this week supporting Broadway casting directors seeking union recognition. That rich, deep voice has been used for everything from Aslan in the Narnia films to narrating the official documentaries marking last year’s 1916 centenary. However, it seems unlikely Liam Neeson (65) will be spending more time with his hydrangeas any time soon. Five films to catch in June that aren’t Wonder Woman Dublin Boyz n …

Matthew Perry as Ted Kennedy: the fake nose and ears are not a good look

You know, the interesting ones. It is, as always, great. It’s a sequel to The Kennedys and it follows the travails of that overexposed clan of shysters in the wake of – spoiler alert – the assassination of John and Bobby. “Oh oh!” say the audience. Instead, she’s put centre-stage and treated much like Joey was treated on Dawson’s Creek, as a bland figure inexplicably beloved by all and sought for her irrelevant counsel and big sad eyes (the actress’s own). He has acquired Jackie as though she were a collectible (she doesn’t mind) and asks, when Jackie wishes to introduce him to the Kennedy clan, if it is “to kiss rings or asses” (Neither option is ideal, to be honest, lest parts of Aristotle’s face come off in a crevice). Love is a weakness” and “That orange man, what’s he called? I would like to see, and ideally write, that mini-series. It’s problematic, because no one outside Ted Kennedy knows exactly how that poor girl died. I know. I feel sad too. She is also in a Dawsonesque threesome with her dead husband and her new suitor, a Groucho Marx impersonator by the name of Aristotle Onassis. Their love affair is taken seriously in the plot. Onassis is the type of billionaire who, when delighted by children frolicking on a Greek beach, enunciates the words “Ha ha ha!” in a generic “foreign” accent (to be fair, this is also how I laugh). Rose Kennedy tortures her vowels like Gloria Swanson in Sunset Boulevard and roams the corridors of Camelot, where the extended family live and love like a filthy-rich version of the Waltons. And yes, the real drama, which should be the entire focus of the miniseries come from the horrible events at Chappaquiddick and the cynical Kennedy PR campaign and coverup that ensued. John does not appear. Given that the main dramatic incident in this series is the horrific Chappaquiddick incident, in which a drunk Ted Kennedy drove Mary Jo Kopechne into a river and then failed to alert the police, Jackie should really be superfluous to the plot. Then, at one point, we witness a tiny bird of prey swallow a vole corpse whole. Katie Holmes also appears as Jackie Kennedy or, possibly, the owner of an enchanted Jackie Kennedy wig that gives the bearer notions. There’s a moment when he sits up in bed and screams, …

Helen Vendler on meeting Seamus Heaney

The woman listened politely and then said – after a moment’s hesitation – “Aren’t you Seamus Heaney?” He confessed that he was, and we were courteously shown the house, including the upstairs room, not open to the public, where Hardy died. Very gratefully, I thanked him and began to hand him back his galleys. It was the custom for the school to invite younger Irish poets to read, and one night in 1975, as a young man began to read his poems from the stage, I sat up, electrified, and thought, “WHO is this?” He didn’t know me: after the reading, when I asked him whether the poems were soon to be published, I was simply an anonymous middle-aged American woman, a tourist to Sligo. I’m forever grateful. Seamus Heaney and Helen Vendler in the garden of Max Gate, Thomas Hardy’s last home, in 2000 On Max Gate, Thomas Hardy’s home Seamus loved the poetry of Thomas Hardy, and one year he and Marie took me to see Hardy’s birthplace; in another year we drove to see the churchyard in which Hardy’s heart is buried. With Seamus and Marie I saw Hadrian’s Wall, Tennyson’s house Farringford on the Isle of Wight, East Coker, Coleridge’s Nether Stowey, the Langholm churchyard where Hugh MacDiarmid is buried (Christopher Murray Grieve, his real name, is on the tombstone). Since I didn’t dare drive on the “wrong” side of the road, I wouldn’t have been able to reach those places except in Seamus’s car. I teach the poetry to American students, and although they find some of it difficult (since Irish history is foreign to them) they also find it instantly admirable and gripping. Seamus Heaney, her dazzling and beautifully written study of the poet’s life and work, was published in 1998 to rave reviews, and Heaney dedicated The Spirit Level to her. He rang the bell, and then apologised to the woman who opened the door by saying he had a visitor from the United States to whom he was eager to show Max Gate before she left. He replied, “Yes, why don’t you take the galleys overnight and we can meet tomorrow in the hotel?” He gave me his galleys – they were of North – and the next day he patiently explained dialect words, bog bodies, and phases of the Troubles in Northern Ireland. I miss him more than I can say. …

Paula review: a TV show as promiscuous as its protagonist

Now, I’m not one to judge, but Paula’s erotic life seems gloriously silly. Like her, the show is distracted and curiously promiscuous, diving between grim realism and a spooky dream, logic and impossibility, Belfast and Dublin. That it tumbles through innumerable implausibilities and loose ends on the way to an obligatory twist ending seems telling. Late in the second part of Paula (RTÉ One, Tues, 9.35pm) a three-part BBC drama made in association with RTÉ, our protagonist confessed to living a double life. That gets it into trouble, Mac. Even mildly attentive viewers will find her bilocation unsettling, or worry that for all her other travails – a rat infestation in her basement, a polyamorous stalker, an incinerated brother – the commute alone must be killing her. Even after its conclusion, it is hard to decide exactly what kind of a show the writer Conor McPherson has concocted for his television debut. It may be easy to mock the programme’s style, in which no one ever switches on a lightbulb or draws a curtain, skulking around in street fluorescence and shadows, but that, you suspect, is how director Alex Holmes wants Paula to be watched: as a horror show in a creaking house, or a creepy yarn told around a campfire. “It gets me into trouble, Mac,” she says, suggesting similar sexual consequences to those of a slasher movie. Like Gough’s otherworldly detachment, or Hughes’s annoying whisper, it wishes to arrest reasonable quibbles and draw you into the half-light of fright. Only rash sex ever seems to turn her to this curious Narnia, she admits. She then rashly slept with an icily handsome handyman, James (Tom Hughes) who went on to blackmail and kill her ex, before burning out her drifter brother. If Paula seems like a strange sort of revenant, drifting morosely between this world and another, one fling and the next, she is assisted by a double-dealing drama specifically set in Dublin and stubbornly filmed in Belfast. Paula, at least, is aware of her patterns. In that case, it could do with fewer distractions, such as the sudden leaps in register where a widow launches into a physical scrap in a kitchen, or Paula unleashes a wild spray of gunfire in a bathroom, violent excesses that feel as though the show itself is getting restless. “It’s like I know the whole world is there, but I’m not interested …

‘I’ve wanted to write books for as long as I could read them’

I can’t wait for the right time, I have to be able to write at any time. Own the decision. I don’t have to write novels. Coffee helps, as does carrying around the lightest laptop imaginable. But what I have done is write three novels. But I digress; this is my story. It would be much more pleasant to be sitting here reading a book or, let’s face it, checking Twitter and what I really should be doing is sorting through the large pile of dry laundry that’s waving at me from across the kitchen. But I manage. The early baby years were mad, of course but now that the pram in the hall – that bloody pram – has been replaced by two big boy bikes the writing time is expanding to fill the space it left behind. Until they are, nothing will change, for anyone. These are the books I wrote and they exist and I love them for it. If you decide you want to run a marathon then it’s quite likely friends and family will pile in and help you achieve your goal. I didn’t think I’d write in waiting rooms and at the side of swimming pools, in libraries and coffee shops. I’ve written in soft play centres and in the car outside birthday parties and most often, in this kitchen late at night when everyone else is asleep. 1,000 words. But if I had waited until I had time to go there, then I wouldn’t have written a word. When I first dreamed about writing novels – some kids sang into a hairbrush, I wrote imaginary acknowledgement pages – I always visualised a big desk, a view of the sea, a figure tip-toeing around outside checking if I needed more tea. But I don’t, and I can either pine after it, or work with what I have. Support is vital too, and having the confidence to use it. But if I want to write books then this is what I must do, use every spare second available to me. I have a busy (lovely) job and two lovely (busy) children, so I write in the spaces between them. When I was in my 20s, with almost unlimited time and no dependents, I wrote a novel that wasn’t very good. This is another marathon, and while you mightn’t get a medal, the sense of achievement …

Which Irish theatre companies have the worst record regarding women?

More broadly, researchers noted “a general pattern of an inverse relationship between levels of funding and female representation”. The research does not differentiate between leading or supporting roles, nor does it provide information on relative levels of remuneration, areas which the authors suggest require further investigation. “Some of the provisional data have changed marginally since the provisional report due to the provision of extra data; in most cases, there is no change,” the authors say. Not surprisingly, the report notes that the gender of the artistic director of a theatre company will have a significant impact on the percentage of shows directed by a woman. “It is now evident, not just from anecdotal accounts but from statistical analysis, that Irish theatre has a significant gender problem,” the authors conclude. Conducted by a team of six researchers in collaboration with the Irish Theatre Institute and the Centre for Drama, Theatre and Performance at NUI Galway, the study builds on provisional findings reported at a #WakingTheFeminists event in the Abbey last November. Rough Magic (80 per cent) and Druid (81 per cent), where Lynne Parker and Garry Hynes are the respective artistic directors, showed the highest representation of female directors. The Gate and Abbey theatres also had the lowest representation of female authors at six per cent and 17 per cent respectively. Women directed 37 per cent of the productions surveyed, while casts were 42 per cent female. “Women are poorly represented in the majority of key roles in the top-funded theatre organisations in Ireland. Women were best represented in The Ark and at Rough Magic Theatre Company. Gender Counts: An Analysis of Gender in Irish Theatre 2006-2015, is based on results from an audit of the country’s 10 largest publicly-funded theatres, theatre companies and festivals, and was commissioned by #WakingTheFeminists, the campaign for equality for women in Irish theatre set up in late 2015. Women were least represented at the Gate and Abbey theatres, while Dublin Theatre Festival and Druid also had low festivals of female representation. The report aims to provide information that can form the basis for evidence-based solutions to the under-representation of women in the sector, and to investigate how public funding relates to female representation in the selected organisations. Women are significantly under-represented across most roles in Irish theatre, and companies that receive the most State support have the worst record on gender equality, a new report …

Theatre companies with most State subsidy have worst gender record, says new report

The report aims to provide information that can form the basis for evidence-based solutions to the under-representation of women in the sector, and to investigate how public funding relates to female representation in the selected organisations. Gender Counts: An Analysis of Gender in Irish Theatre 2006-2015, is based on results from an audit of the country’s 10 largest publicly-funded theatres, theatre companies and festivals, and was commissioned by #WakingTheFeminists, the campaign for equality for women in Irish theatre set up in late 2015. However, only eight per cent of plays at the Gate from 2006 to 2015 were directed by women and, in six of the 10 years studied, no plays at the Gate had female directors. Women directed 37 per cent of the productions surveyed, while casts were 42 per cent female. The Gate and Abbey theatres also had the lowest representation of female authors at six per cent and 17 per cent respectively. Women were least represented at the Gate and Abbey theatres, while Dublin Theatre Festival and Druid also had low festivals of female representation. Not surprisingly, the report notes that the gender of the artistic director of a theatre company will have a significant impact on the percentage of shows directed by a woman. The research, focusing on 10 of the top Arts Council-funded organisations that produce or present theatre in Ireland, found that the four highest-funded had the lowest female representation. Conducted by a team of six researchers in collaboration with the Irish Theatre Institute and the Centre for Drama, Theatre and Performance at NUI Galway, the study builds on provisional findings reported at a #WakingTheFeminists event in the Abbey last November. “It is now evident, not just from anecdotal accounts but from statistical analysis, that Irish theatre has a significant gender problem,” the authors conclude. Women are significantly under-represented across most roles in Irish theatre, and companies that receive the most State support have the worst record on gender equality, a new report has found. “Women are poorly represented in the majority of key roles in the top-funded theatre organisations in Ireland. More broadly, researchers noted “a general pattern of an inverse relationship between levels of funding and female representation”. “Some of the provisional data have changed marginally since the provisional report due to the provision of extra data; in most cases, there is no change,” the authors say. Women were best represented in …

Irish opera picking up international awards as Arts Council decision imminent

  mdervan@irishtimes.com But the leads were strong, Irish tenor Anthony Kearns a clear, musicianly and appealing Nemorino, and Polish soprano Ania Jeruc a spirited and agile Adina. Wexford was shortlisted in the Festival category in 2013, when it lost out to the Salzburg Festival, and in 2016, when it lost to Glyndebourne. But the music on the CD and the selection at the concert sound like him turning over a new leaf, showing an intentionally more mellow side of his musical character. Sadly, I was not persuaded by the concert and have not yet been persuaded by the CD. A six-figure award would probably be unthinkable at this stage for the Lismore Opera Festival, whose Arts Council struggles have centred on the loss and regaining of a grant of around €10,000. Corcoran CD lanched Hamburg-based Irish composer Frank Corcoran’s new RTÉ Lyric FM CD, Rhapsodic Celli, was officially launched at a concert of his music at Dublin’s Hugh Lane Gallery on Sunday. The yard’s large, round drinking fountain is a given for all kinds of near-miss and genuinely watery shenanigans, and Lismore is happy to use any excuse to bring on a novel form of transport. The 30-year-old American soprano Alessandra Marc made an unforgettable debut in the production, and the length of the final applause, I’ve been told, set a new record for the festival. Wexford Festival Opera won the Festival category at this year’s International Opera Awards in London. Lismore is funded through the Arts Council’s Festival and Events scheme which, with its strands and funding ceilings, sometimes seems like the arts funding equivalent of manipulating waiting list figures in our health system. Wide Open Opera and Landmark beat competition from Teatro alla Scala, English National Opera, the Aix-en-Provence Festival, the Gran Teatre del Liceu in Barcelona and Danish National Opera. In terms of repertoire, it’s interesting to see what a crowded market Wexford is in. The Wexford Festival is involved in a bid in the current Arts Council process, where its only surviving competitor is a joint venture by Wide Open Opera and Opera Theatre Company, two companies where the commanding presence is Fergus Sheil. Internationally, Irish opera has been doing well. One of Sheil’s other collaborations, between Wide Open Opera and Landmark Productions, has been announced as the winner of the 2017 Fedora-General Prize for Opera which brings not just kudos or a beautiful gong, but …

David O’Reilly: This Irish game-maker’s theory about ‘Everything’

He never realised that “drawing” could be a job before. Nature from a certain point of view is an incredible echo chamber with infinite variety and we’re all trying to describe it in as faithful a way as we can.” If this makes O’Reilly sound like a college professor standing at the side of a Tokyo street, then, no. David O’Reilly is on the phone from Tokyo. I could describe the game simply; I could say ‘it’s about nature’, but people see nature as things in opposition to man-made things: trees, flowers, bees. everything-game.com Parts are narrated by the British philosopher Alan Watts, and his narration on the trailer for the game brought to mind a tone that Terrence Malick or Ron Fricke might leap towards. We say ‘it’s in her nature’. well, a mountain. He moved to Berlin, suffered through two of their coldest recorded winters in over a century, and then moved to Los Angeles. He moved to London, working at different studios. “When people hear the word ‘philosophy’ a lot of people might fall asleep,” O’Reilly says. From the initial idea until its completion, it took five years to make, three of those being full-time. Everything is about… Weather is above, and go above that, O’Reilly says, and it’s us rotating around the sun, influencing our lives in more ways than we care to recognise. A branch could describe itself as a version of a tree, that beautiful word, fractality, and a thing that’s contained within itself. ‘Reflecting the world’ “Making something that’s reflecting the world is a thing that we do, and art is something that we’ve always been doing as a species. It is about the interconnectivity of the universe, of nature; it is about systems and objects being all the same yet all different; it is about infinite environments. He is now in his early 30s, with some landmark pieces of work behind him. okay. He wasn’t athletic, so hurling didn’t stick. One guy was drawing a bird on paper with pencil, and animating it by flipping through the drawings. It’s a canvas you can get lost in.” In Everything you can be a tree, or a bug, or a whale, stars, a rock, and on and on. When making games, he starts out with the seasons, the time of day, making a nice sunset, making nice transitions between seasons, the wind. Nature is …