The artist Dave Hilliard asked me some questions

As regular readers of this blog will already know, the visual artist Dave Hilliard is one of my closest friends. On a personal level as well as on a creative level, he is fantastic, interesting, inspiring, person. I've featured his work on here before, as well as running an interview I conducted about his art, not so long back. In fact, keep your eyes peeled because there's going to be another day in the very near future, when I'll be shoeing some of his newest paintings, which are obviously great. Anyway, Dave gave me a set of questions about my writing and about this place. So I answered them. And here is the whole thing:



DAVE HILLIARD: I know that as well as the writing, you have done a lot of music. It seems recently, however, that your writing is taking precedence. Is there any reason for this do you think? Do you ever feel that you are neglecting one art form whilst concentrating on another?

THOMAS MORONIC: I don’t feel that I’ve been neglecting my music, but I definitely felt that I had run myself into the ground a little bit with it, so a break was in order and probably much needed.

Over the last couple of years I’d gotten heavily into some trains of thought regarding music that I perhaps started to rely on a little too much. This led to me finding myself stumped for inspiration. Certainly in terms of my solo work, I’d started to over-think things; which meant that I’d come up with ideas and then end up arguing myself out of doing them, and rejecting them. Sometimes it felt like I would have a conceptual idea about what kind of music I felt I should be producing, but then none of the things that I came up with could really live up the concept I had.

There was never a moment when I made a conscious decision to say: right, I’m stopping music for a little bit, but as I started to get into a routine of writing, I was able to not worry so much as not using music as a creative outlet. I had writing there to act as a pressure valve, instead. I feel really lucky to be writing, because up until early this year I’d all but given up on it.

Getting back into writing, I’ve been much more aware of working in a different medium and I think I’ve relished that. I’ve enjoyed doing something that by its nature is a much more private thing than music. Without any disrespect to the people that I make (and will continue to make music with), it’s been good to have something that is completely mine, to do with as I want. Also, it’s just been fun rediscovering something that I’d completely lost confidence in and realising that I can do interesting, exciting stuff with.

Writing has just felt a lot more natural to me than music has recently.

DH: We both live in the post-industrial heart land of England. Does it matter to you where you live, and how do you think it affects your writing? Do you dream a romantic dream of running off to live in Paris or somewhere…?


TM: More than anything I think that my environment has had a pretty large effect on the subject matter in my work. I think the themes and emotions in my writing are probably fairly universal concerns (like any artist – ideas to do with understanding other people, and the human condition, and locating my own obsessions and ideas in relation to that), but the places where I grew up, and live etc are the reference points that I use to get these concerns across. So I guess I’m saying that the environment has influenced the medium more than the message in my work.


The Midlands has other influences as well. As you know, it can be difficult being an artist round here sometimes because it can be quite an isolated place, if you are of a certain creative mindset. The place can be very depressing, and at times stifling. But then again, in some ways I’d say that that can help a person’s art – you can use those things in work.


Yeah, I’ve definitely still got romantic ideas about escaping. Paris is somewhere I fell for instantly when I visited. Somewhere I’d like to spend a lot more time in the future. I feel pretty optimistic that myself and some of my artistic friends will have our moment.

DH: Who are you digging right now in terms of writers?


TM: Lots of stuff. I’m was thinking about this last night and thinking that I’m actually feeling really excited and turned on by several people at the moment. I think sometimes I go in phases – feeling bored and unimpressed with stuff, and then feeling enthusiastic and inspired by stuff. I’ve enjoyed reading this year.


One of my favourite new books has been The Cow by Ariana Reines, which is really intense book of graphic, fragmented texts. She uses a lot of language associated with abattoirs and stuff. It’s a tricky one to describe because descriptions don’t do much for it. It’s great though. I’ve also really enjoyed Eeeee Eee Eeee, by Tao Lin who is a writer from New York. He’s got a very unique style. He tries to write using only facts, so that there is no emotional manipulation to his work. But then he has surreal things in his book like talking dolphins and movie stars getting murdered and stuff. But it’s all dealt with in a very calm, methodical voice.


Of the older stuff I’ve been reading, I’ve loved John Wiener’s poems, The Rainbow Stories by William T Vollman, Miserable Miracle by Henri Michaux, Rene Crevel’s My Body and I.


I’m looking forward to getting novels by Allain Robbe-Grillet and Maurice Blanchot, for Christmas.

DH: And any wider creative stuff you have enjoyed or found influential recently? Films, art etc?


TM: Again, lots of stuff. I’ll probably forget to mention a ton of things, but here goes:


The first thing to spring to mind is the art of Aspen Michael Taylor, who works under the name Kiddiepunk. He makes really startling images – usually pictures of children, that he’s altered, torn, or damaged in some way. They really confuse me, which is something that I find exciting. I should have an interview with him finished soon, actually.


Again, in terms of visual artists, I’ve really liked stuff by Jeff Wall, David Hesidence, Steven Shearer, and I saw a damn fine show in Paris called The Third Mind where an artist was given carte blanche to curate a show featuring all of their favourite stuff – there was work by William Burroughs and Brion Gysin, Candy Noland, and Nancy Grossman that got my mind going. I got the exhibition catalogue so I’ve been working my way through that slowly.


I watched Irreversible by Gaspar Noe, with you, and I keep thinking back to that. David Lynch’s Inland Empire, Gus Van Sant’s Paranoid Park – are both interesting, feeling provoking films I’ve watched that have made me want to write and create stuff.


I’ve been lucky enough to see Kindertotenlieder – the theatre piece by Dennis Cooper and Giselle Vienne – twice this year. It’s incredible – like nothing I’ve really experienced before. Stephen O’Malley and Peter Rehberg provide a live soundtrack to it. It centres around a teenage suicide, using the aesthetics of black metal. Pretty unique.


And music is always a constant. My favourite album for the last few months has been Boxer, by The National. It’s good to listen to while I’m planning some writing. Also – Bone Awl, who are a really great black metal band. I got one of their cassettes.


Oh – and John Waters always makes the world seem like a better place.

DH: I suppose homosexuality is a fairly recurrent theme in your writing. How would you feel if you were classified as ‘A gay writer’ for a review, say?


TM: My initial response to the tag is an uncomfortable one. It just seems like such a reductive term. People who have heterosexuality in their writing aren’t really lumped together as ‘straight writers’ – they’re just seen as ‘writers’. Although I understand that the whole notion of reviewing something is often reductive by its very nature – attempting to get across the essence of something with the assumption that the reader has no first hand experience of the thing in question.


And there have definitely been times when I’ve actually checked something out because it’s been a record by a queer punk band, or a queer artist or something. So in some ways I’m contradicting myself. Essentially though, it’s just a tag, that draws people to something, and then hopefully they can see it for what it actually is. Most things get pigeonholed or lumped in with other things at some point, but most of the time it doesn’t really mean anything. If someone likes something, then hopefully they’ll forget about all the labels eventually.


Ideally, I’d just like be classed as a Writer.

DH: Do you think any of the characters in any your stories achieve happiness or enlightenment through use of drugs or alcohol?


TM: I wouldn’t say so. There are times when my characters have enjoyed drugs, and also the opposite. Like with other things in my stories – the sex and the violence, for example – there’s a confusion over the effects that these things have on the people. I’m attracted to grey areas, and I try to avoid fiction that implies a strict binary opposition, because that nearly always tends to imply a moral standpoint. I like the tension that can be created when you’re not telling people what to think. I spend a great deal of my life completely confused by thoughts and desires that I have. I’m constantly tying myself in knots. From my own experiences of drugs, I know that at times they can feel like the best thing in the world, and on occasions they have given me intense pleasure, but I’m also aware that they can be a very illusory and transitory pleasure. I like the challenge of trying to convey the confusion of living.

DH: Writing the daily blog, you seem to have a committed work ethic going on. Is it ever hard to keep that going? Are there any distractions or hindrances to this?


TM: The blog is the thing that helped kickstart me back into writing. I love my blog. I see it as an ongoing, constantly expanding body of work. I feel really pleased with the work ethic that I’ve managed to get together with it. I wouldn’t say that it’s hard, because I enjoy it so much. I love sitting down and putting stuff together for it. Keeping it going is a challenge that I relish.


Like anything in life, there are always distractions – socialising, work etc. But when I stopped writing a couple of years back, the idea of starting again was a really intimidating thing. It felt daunting, because I hadn’t written anything in so long – I didn’t know where to start. By being firm with myself and keeping a set writing routine, it means I’ll never have to worry about starting again, because I don’t give myself chance to stop.


Obviously, with a daily thing, I can’t guarantee that every single day will be amazing entry, and when I look back there are definitely some days that I think are better than others, but I think in order to get good work you do have to work through some not so good stuff. In that respect, the blog acts as a big notebook for me. It’s a good place to experiment with ideas.

DH: I also believe you are writing a book. How is that coming along, any idea how long it is going to be or when it will be completed?


TM: It’s going well. I’d been toying with the ideas for a while, so it feels good to finally be working on it. I’ve been making good progress. Stuff feels like it’s starting to take shape at the moment, especially in terms of the characters that I’ve been working on.


I’m not sure about when it will be ready, but realistically, I’d like to have a fairly solid manuscript within a year. I’ve not worked on something of this size before, so it’s proving to be an interesting learning curve.

DH: Can you imagine making a living from writing? It seems at the moment you are quite happy to keep your employment and your writing separate, and you take from the everyday to feed your writing. For example, having some woman’s fat arse stuck in your face while commuting.


TM: I would fucking love to be able to make a living from writing, Dave. At the moment though, that’s not possible, so I have no choice but to work. I suppose at least I’m lucky that I have a job that I don’t mind, and quite enjoy doing most of the time. And the day to day stuff – commuting, traipsing around, dealing with the horrific grind of routine and daily life has definitely given me things to draw upon for my work.


In some ways a routine can be good, too. I’m doing much more creative work now than when I was at university and could sit around twiddling my thumbs all day. I value my time a lot more now, and therefore make the most of it. The idea of not creating stuff when I get the chance frightens me.


But ultimately, if someone wanted to give me a load of money to just do my blog and write my stories, I’d tear their arm off in a second.