I am a Writer, Chef and Photographer, well Artist sums it up, in no particular order, depends what day it is.
My influences are many - My travels wide.
Kirklafferty@outlook.com
02102531669
Proposed Book Cover
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This is one of the cover ideas I am looking at using for
In 2016 I was invited down to cook for 'Wellington On A Plate.' Wellingtons yearly food festival. Short works of my fiction added to the event. I created banquets for the second week of the festival in 30 Upstairs Art Gallery Courtney Place Wellington, Lamb smoker hanging out the window, hotplate on a shelf, all without a kitchen. A Cook A Gallery A Painting A Feast The Event ran over a week with diners enjoying banquet meals each night presented as 'Art Cuisine' in their own right. I was asked to base it all on Abby Meakin's still life painting which hung in the Gallery behind the Diners. The Middle Course was served on long banquet boards, each person received a scroll of my short fiction and poetry to indulge in and converse over. This Dessert the finale of the night was Audible. Wasabi and Coconut Panne Cotta Ginger Soil / Lemongrass Jelly Yuzu flakes / Lychee popping Candy. Hann
--> For the right reasons. The Sound / Voom: Neck of the Woods. A back story. In the 80’s, The Sound was played at every party I went to. Friends’ bands covered the songs, felt them. The lyrics echoed our own struggles. Unbeknown to us, they were coming from much heavier personnel struggles the singer on the other side of the world was going through. We felt the power of his politics in ‘Missiles’, from the first Album Jeopardy. Post-cold-war-punked-up-England echoed our thoughts of growing stockpiles of nuclear weapons in a world going to hell. Down here we did our bit, waving antinuclear flags and protesting ships in our harbour. The Sound played music of an era, some songs lifted us up, and others stated how things were. “I can’t escape myself,” another hit from the album Jeopardy, spoke to me, as a teenager growing up and breaking out of a depressed South Auckland, of not being listened to - it fed on my teenage angst. The song builds up and sh
Craig sat on a park bench at the top of Arch hill waiting for the library to open. A mass of black hair hiding a large Polynesian man made its way up the steps towards him. It had been ten years. From this angle, he couldn’t tell if it was him or not. With each step that the man-made, Craig’s breaths deepened. A vein on his neck poked out and pulsed with his quickening heart. Nature screamed aromas. Manuka trees were bursting into blossom subtlety juniper. Wild onions had taken over the hillside, colonizers pushing the natives out. Beyond the trees, car exhausts wafted up from the valley where the motorway cut through like a river, sounding like a sea. None of those scents Craig received, all he could smell was fear. Sione had grown up in Tonga where scents embraced. Seaweed baked in the tropical sun, its saltiness touching every surface. Whichever direction he walked, the sea was clos
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