Where To?

It’s strange to think that seven weeks ago I was sitting in the Royal Festival Hall with a group of young people I’d never met before, being recruited as a young curator. Now it’s been two days since the show which Jamal, Jayga, Rosie and I have been working towards for so long. From the feedback I’ve received I think it went incredibly well; the Front Room was packed and there was a great buzz that lasted long after the show had ended.

Whilst I’m normally quite composed, there were moments in the lead up to the show that brought on mild hyperventilation and verbal vomiting of ‘Ohmygodohmygod’. At one point Yemisi, Jamal and I were adding up the times of all the acts when we realised, despite numerous previous checks, that we were 20 minutes over. After brutally cutting the interval, shaving minutes off sets and making Yemisi swear the keep the hosting short we squeezed our busy busy show into the allocated time with no room for mistakes or overrunning. Another of my panics came on when with great excitement we received our 2000 flyers…with Woe, the house band, wrongly named ‘Woe Live’, so my sincere apologies to them.

All of the artists were absolutely amazing on the day and despite the headlining grime artist No.Lay never turning up, it felt (I hope!) like a complete experience from start to finish. Personal highlights for me were the collaboration between Woe and poet Kaiz La Kazie, the beautiful Jasmine Cooray’s vivid stories, finally seeing my co-curators Jamal and Rosie perform, Malik Marland’s amazing poetry, soul singer Aruba Red, the exciting art being created throughout the show by Rachel Sale and Sophie Gate …basically everyone! It was lovely to see so many familiar faces that I’ve met during my time at the Southbank Centre in the crowd such as Rachel Holmes, Paul Blezard and Rosie Goldsmith.

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Jasmine Cooray

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Rosie Knight and her lovely dress

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Rachel Sale and Sophie Gate near the end of their painting

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Rachel Holmes and Paul Blezard

Unfortunately the rest of my photos aren’t the best as I still haven’t quite mastered my camera settings, but do take a look here.

A huge pat on the back to Jamal, Jayga, Rosie, Yemisi, Zenith, all the artists and everyone who came. Thanks heaps!

Where to? Success, that’s where.

Billed as an eclectic line-up of poets, artists and musicians, I’d been looking forward to this show since first meeting two of its young curators Alex and Jayga at a pre-festival meeting.

The precept for it was a response to the concept of escape and its destinations and it drew inspiration from Benjamin ‘the bard’ Zephaniah, whose own show Where to? preceded.

What I did not expect was the superb fusion of spoken word, music, art, graphics and the extraordinary buzz that hit me as I walked into the Front Room at Queen Elizabeth Hall. I know it’s a real pain to be told how good something was after the event, when you’ve already missed it, so I’m sorry, but this show was everything that it could have been. Slick, sassy, soulful and with more heart and guts than Fergus Henderson’s superb, notoriously offal-centric restaurant, St. John.

It would be easy for a middle-aged, grey haired gipper like me to wail on about how talented the younger generation are and I won’t disrespect the perfomers by even dreaming of doing so, because actually age didn’t come into this exquisite, diverse gem of a show. This was all about performance and integrity and art and the artistry of all these elements.

So I’ll make a bet with you. If super-singer-songwriter Aruba Red doesn’t have the stellar career in music that she royally deserves; if Woe don’t get signed, become bigger than, oh I don’t know, Oasis… Blur… whoever’s pestering the music journalists at the moment, and win a Grammy; if artist Adele Morse doesn’t win a Turner prize; and if none of this happens within five years… then I’ll take you for lunch. All of you! Start counting the days my friends, start counting.

Arundhati Roy and Shami Chakrabarti: people and inspirations.

My personal political leanings are un-popular. They’re not discriminatory or hateful but my right wing, the innocent have nothing to fear, ethos rarely goes down well with the general populous.

It was with some scepticism that I took my seat in the Queen Elizabeth Hall for the Arundhati Roy event. Don’t get me wrong, I expected intelligent conversation; I was just expecting to be able to dismiss it quite quickly.

After the introduction from our own Rachel Holmes, Shami Chakrabarti took her turn on the mic and with her endearing stutter and repetition introduced someone whom she clearly has a large amount of respect and reverence for.

The applause was rapturous and the traditionally dressed Arundhati cut a pure figure on stage. She moves with the presence of someone that is at peace with themselves and their endeavors.

 During her reading and explanation of what the night would entail a faint smile played upon her lips. Her subject matter was dark, as she warned us, but the smile remained. Perhaps it was because there were no empty seats, perhaps because she harbored equal affection for Shami and perhaps because she was so jubilant about the gay rights developments in her homeland.

This smile was part of her allure. Along with belief, passion, intelligence and pithy delivery she made my beliefs crumble like soft rock. I’m not saying she completely changed my political alignment, or even had a long-term effect on the way I think, but through her monologues and discussions Arundhati Roy illuminated herself as the most esteem-inducing person I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing in the flesh.

The lady I asked for a short review whilst waiting for my coat summed it up best ‘I’m afraid I can’t. It would be too superficial. I need to go digest. I was meant to be meeting friends but I’m just going to go home and contemplate’.

 Mrs Chakrabarti was equally enchanting and I was honoured to record a short interview with her which will be uploaded soon. Arundhati just deserved her own post. This is much longer than anything I’d normally post but in truth I wouldn’t feel I’d done it justice, and I still don’t, if I’d done any less.

A little bit of awe, a little bit of nervousness and a lot of expectation.

When I first heard of the opportunity to work at the London Literature Festival I was chomping at the proverbial bit. I knew the people I would meet, from peers to elders, would be amazing and inspiring.

 

Within the first session I realized my comrades were all smart, young and ambitious. We hacked out a vague mental image of our show and in the consequent sessions set about whittling it into a beautiful event.

 

The real fear kicked in when we went to the ‘big’ meetings. The people we were surrounded with had over a hundred years of national media experience and published books in double figures between them. It would be easy to be intimidated and I think in other industries it would have been much more so; if I picture myself in a room of scientists or leading business figures it would have felt a lot more ominous.

 

My worries were relieved when it dawned how competent our team, and the people supporting us from above, were.

 

Perhaps it is a lot to expect, but looking at our line-up, I genuinely think we could have one of the best shows of this literature festival. I am of course nervous as it is a lot of responsibility, but I believe the hard work we’ve put in will pay dividends. Even if the show didn’t happen I’d still be pleased, and still be in awe, of the opportunities I’ve had and the people I have met.

 

Remember, remember the 10th of July.

Alex and I.

Photos taken in the Southbank Center Shed.

 

Remember to come see our show.

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