Sunup Festival Sketch Blog 4 - Freaky Shit in 6 Parts (A Festival Finale Reading)

The Pre-Show Talk

It starts with throwing caution to the wind. Because this thing I wrote, to read out to you? I wrote some bits, for you, to read out-loud with me. And really. I should have asked if you minded. But I didn’t. Because I thought you might say no.

So, here we are.

To be fair. Every event I have attended at the festival has blurred the line between those who are arting and those who are watching.

We’ve been mixing it up, all along.

Weaving a spell.

Asking/deciding to dive in.

All along.

Asking/deciding.

Sometimes not asking. Just deciding to take a deep breath and make your own, made for you, made by you.

Magic.

So here we all are. You and me. All of us. With some words, to be sounded out in the here and right now. Solo and together. Then and now. Dead and alive. Kinda freaky. Kinda magic.

That’s how we have been going and that’s how we’ll go on.

With that in mind, dearly beloved. Only if you want to. It’s fine if you don’t. May I welcome you to our rehearsal for this impromptu reading. Done together, in only a moments time.

A sketch of Hilda af Klint’s painting Adulthood

Part 1

It works like this. When you notice some words in bold and italic, like the one that’s coming up. Take a deep breath, don’t worry if you mess it up. Don’t worry about timing. It’s all ok. Just open your mouth. And all we do is, all we do is, all we do is, we know what to do is, all we do is. Read the words and say them in our mouths and out and out and

Out loud

Yes

Out loud

Now we’re getting there. So, like. I might say hello. And then you might say

Goodbye

Hello Hello. I don’t know why we say

Goodbye

I say hello . And just like that. It’s time for

Part 2

So, I did some drawings to accompany this thing we’re doing. (As you’re reading this online you’ll see them here) accompanying these words in full colour, intergalactic, many mega bitten pictures. Flirting with the world.

For those of you who hate smart phones and the digital era as a whole, I have made some mini zines. Entitled ‘Freaky Shit’. This is my 2nd ever zine. Inspired by the Sun Up festival workshop I went to, run by Beth Duggleby. Thank you Beth.

However you encounter them, the drawings can be looked at in any order. Or not at all. It has become apparent to me, over the last few weeks, if you’re playing for real, you can dip in and out. You can use spells in any order that you like. The magic we are weaving is powerful, maybe life changing, if you want it, if you want to, if you want it, but never pushy and definitely kind.

Cakes and swimming. Photo shoots and paintings. Zine drawing and life coaching. Films and talking. Head-dress making and parading. One women shows and dancing. If you’re doing it for real. You can’t really go wrong. Just weave in and out. See where it takes you.

Part 3

What are you thinking about?

It’s nice to be asked.

Friendly.

I’m thinking that it’s been friendly.

Welcoming.

It has meant a lot.

Thank you to Casey and Lucy and Lizzie and Morlando and Anne-Marie and Beth and Erin and Hilma af Klint and Screen Argyll and the river Wharf and Leeds Inspired and wild flowers and willow trees and Fraser and Jazz and funk and Latin and soul and Jo and Super 8 and Julia and Sound Baths and She Holistics and Chrissy and Marion and those who came and did who I missed by mistake, and Upco and Otley but most of all, mostly, yes most of all, mostly, forever and ever. Thank you, the sun.

It all means a lot.

It made me want to write this thing. It’s an age since I sat down to write something to stand up and say. In front of. Together. In front of. Together. With people. With strangers. Trusting that for this moment we’ll simply set sail and build a world together.

The weirdness of that.

But then this whole festival, has been kinda weird.

A letting go.

Yes. Exactly that. A letting go.

Part 4 - 18th of June two thousand and twenty two

The 4th event at Sunup Festival. We watched the film called Beyond the Visible, about the life and work of the artist Hilma af Klint.

She worked unknown. Inventing, in isolation, a whole new form. Abstract art. Imagine that. Years before the ones who are famous for it had even thought to begin. She did it. Alone. To help herself understand the universe. I mean, freaky-ass lady or what? Painting to see and communicate the universe and its meaning. To find ways to understand what life is and for.

Wild

I know! Right! But I’ve been thinking since I saw the film, that that isn’t even the most extraordinary bit. Many have talent. What makes Hilda af Klint truly amazing is her total, quiet, immersion in her own life’s work. Her intention. She did her work knowing it was her right to do it. She played for real. She is a reminder to be free. To be true. A reminder to be

Really Wild

Since that night I’ve been copying her drawings. The shapes are so lovely to make. Like a lovely sweet or sound in your mouth. It’s so very strange, making the shapes of a language, that you can feel means something, but you can’t say what. Yet.

Magic.

I think so, maybe, yes. It felt like that to me.

Part 5 – The summer solstice celebration

But come on. I mean, really? I mean. So yeah. I am a little bit woo. But not the whole damn woo. So I was a bit nervous. This wasn’t my usual scene. I don’t usually weave wildflowers and weeds and willow twine, to pop like a crown on the top of my head. I don’t usually get card readings and aura cleansings. I don’t usually march down the street, stopping the traffic. I don’t usually get into rivers, with a big gang of women and kids. Swimming, treading water in our headdresses, while the sun sets and a lovely guy turns up, out of nowhere, playing songs on his guitar. I don’t usually do that kind of thing. All of us. Together.

I don’t usually breathe in like this then

Breathe out. Breathe in and breathe out. Watching the sun in its longest, golden hour.

I don’t usually look up to the sky and say thank you.

I don’t’ usually do any of that kind of weird, woo woo, crazy mo-fo, freaky shit.

I should do though. It was beautiful.

A sketch of Hilma af Klint’s painting - Altarpiece

Part 6.

And then suddenly, it’s almost the end.

The longest day gone.

The world beginning it’s turn, to spin back in towards us all again.

We sit between breaths. Between this is now. And that was then.

Beginning to leave but still time to notice, this yes, between us all.

This moment together, in time and space.

This moment of sensing that things weaved will not be undone.

We all said Hello.

This kind of magic will linger and keep weaving on.

Even if it is now time to say

Goodbye.