dropping eaves

Sonia Overall: writer's radar, magpie mind.

[soniaoverall]

Message in a bottle

I asked visitors at the private view of Upon A Painted Ocean to leave me a message in a bottle. Here are the messages received (italics), and what became of them...

I came to find a new life - the sea washed the old one away. I made my home in a sandcastle, but with every fitful moon came the swish, swish, swish and the tangled swamps of bladderwrack. There was no peace. I tied myself to a fishing net, more at home in a watchful sea, the slapping waves upon the hull.

Still floating - a feeling of impending danger with each high tide, the fear of running aground, stranded on the shores. But I am prepared. This will be the best way to communicate: perhaps one day you will look up and see me, glinting on the beach.

If you should find me, please throw me back to sea.

[soniaoverall]

Text experiments on a sea theme from my collaborative exhibition with artist James Frost - Upon A Painted Ocean - in The Old Lookout Gallery, Broadstairs, Kent (17/8/12 - 22/8/12). Visitors were able to reveal a poem by shifting sand in a box, read another work by peering into a bowl of water, and follow snippets of a longer piece chalked and charcoaled around the walls. Text bunting also told a very short story.

The show explored the sea and shipwrecks, and in particular the nearby Goodwin Sands, also known as the Great Ship Swallower. Our collaborative performance combined the wrecking of James' beautifully-made shadow boats with my sound effects and reading of a piece written for the event.

Visitors were invited to make an origami 'ghost ship' to add to our display. By the end of the week we exceeded our goal of 144 ghost ships - one for each of the known wrecks lining the coast between Broadstairs and Dover. Thanks to everyone who took part...

[soniaoverall]

John Taylor's Journey - new short story - performed on board LV21 on 9th August.

Other pieces from the ReAuthoring crew were presented by Will Sutton, Kay Syrad, S J Butler and Sarah Salway.

[soniaoverall]

Cut-up: ReAuthoring writing residency and installation in the wool shop at the Whitstable Oyster Festival, 25th July 2012.

I created flash stories and prose poems inspired by the materials in the shop, invoking memories of knitting, sewing and playing with my mother's workbox as a child. These became fabric installations, creating hangings and bunting to display the texts. Luggage labels on hooks around the shop displayed a series of 'first yarn' micro-stories, gathered from members of the Whitstable Area Crochet and Knitting Yarners. Visitors and customers were given a snip of ribbon text (handwritten story on a spool of fabric ribbon) to take away - many gamely wore my words on wrists and buttonholes.

During the afternoon I created an on-the-spot cut-up poem, written on calico and pinned to canvas, based on words gathered from customers in the shop.

Installation ongoing at Buzz 4 Wool, Oxford Street, Whitstable, Kent.

[soniaoverall]

Written with words inscribed by the public at Lounge on the Farm on Sunday.

Wow! You look awesome. You feel amazing.

Everything pleases you; even when there's nothing here you keep walking in search of the next moment. And the next.

That's ecstasy for you - every stranger a man of wax, the muddy straw a sea of gold.

[soniaoverall]

Lounging

Wellies, exposed bellies, pop-up delis

frozen lollies

small children pulled around in trollies

absence of brollies

sudden follies

stag-dos, hen-dos, unkempt hair-dos

litter pickers cleaning portaloos

wristbands and parking passes

sideways glances

taking chances

free whisky shot

dancing for hours on the spot

late night movies, freshly blended smoothies

sheer elation

end of uni celebration

artificial stimulation

partial loss of circulation

intoxication.

Morning-after medication.

[soniaoverall]

Lounge Stories in action.

[soniaoverall]

Outrageous

She was wearing a pink pleated skirt that fell mid-calf. He was carrying a bodhran.

When he saw her he climbed on the nearest chair, gathered an audience.

When he sang she didn't stop to listen.

When he started drumming she paused, the thuck-thuck hammering through the field. It wasn't until he smashed the bodhran over his head (and wore it, ruff-like, around his neck) that their eyes met.

Idiot, she mouthed, and headed for the bar.

[soniaoverall]

Incongruities 4 - 6

Fifty-inch chest, grey beard, pink top hat.

Ripped jeans, gold lame bag. Very Clean Wellies.

Damp stain on short combats, right buttock only.

[soniaoverall]

Lost & Found: part 2

Orange silk cushion, embroidery-side down in the mud.

Plectrum.

Sense of direction.

Last cig in the packet.

Singing voice.

Control over feet.

Use of feet.

Consciousness.

[soniaoverall]

Stage to sound desk:

- Can I not be in a cave please? More bathroom.

- Enough of the smoke machine, it reminds me of Afghanistan.

YOB + BEANS ON TOAST = proper festival showmanship

[soniaoverall]

Incongruities 1 - 3

Tattoed left leg, hirsute torso, pigtails. Chocolate ice-lolly.

Small guitar, big voice.

Fairy wings, bag of licorice allsorts, pint of lager.

[soniaoverall]

Lyric cut-up

Nothing but my shadow following me.

I'm just upside-down

between

all the gaps in the road

and the gaps and the holes

six feet under:

always left to say what can't be said.

[soniaoverall]

Story seeds for today's Lounging...

[soniaoverall]

Lost & Found: part 1

Performance anxiety.

Silver paper hat, crown perforated like a colander.

Last shot of vanilla vodka.

Ten pound note, concertina folds (by the Mexican food stall).

Six hours sleep (not recovered).

Tent.

[soniaoverall]

Objects of desire

A pair of purple combats! When my money comes in... Bluetac. Anyone got any loo roll? I suppose what you really want from a festival is, well, difference. Jake Buggs. But he's at least half my age. Falafel? I could murder a falafel. Do tell me how you feel, because I really want to know. Hello out there! (Any chance of a soundcheck first?) Just one word. Please.

[soniaoverall]

Farm Film Noir

1. A security guard flirts listlessly, Bogart-style, with the girl in the cigarette kiosk. 2. Six foot four, black trilby, checking wristbands like he's feeling for a pulse. 3. Ketchup stains on a once-white vest. 4. Is that really a violin case? 5. Prostrate in the corner of the Kube, arms splayed. All that's missing is the chalk.