Joni Brown takes her textiles piece for our imaginary 27th bridge into the Thames.
I first heard of 26’s Wordstock only a few months ago, and since then have found myself wrapped up entirely in its world. From plotting imaginary soundscapes, to transporting three metre wooden poles across TFL, to literally throwing myself into the Thames wrapped in sheets of muslin, I’d embarked on my fair share of preparation for the event before it finally kicked off at Conway Hall Library on 18 October.
It seems 26 has that sort of effect on a person. It grips its writers, and Wordstock proves no different. By the end of the afternoon the room had donned blindfolds, delved into the world of etching, and debated the troubles of human life as something easily dispensable. There was laughter, sorrow, and a well-stocked biscuit break.
The opening of Wordstock asked the room of 60-odd writers to recall their day’s journeys, a sensory path, beginning with the first letter of their names. We eased ourselves in with talk of sweet coffee, birds and benches, before moving on to vultures, shudders and fleshiness before 6pm.
The writing panel ‘A Writing Life’, led by Rob Self-Pierson, covered the solitary lives of writers, the balance of day jobs and times for creativity, and, in John Simmons’ words, ‘The most perfect pieces of writing in the English language’. Olivia Sprinkel took us on a journey from the trees of Ecuador back to her writing desk, and Anushka Shah inspired the room with an emphasis on writing as a means to feel understood within words.
As Wordstock’s second section, Martin Lee and printmaker Jason Hicklin introduced an upcoming project with Eames Fine Art. Another invention of 26, each writer is paired with a printmaker and tasked to write a 62-word sestude on their practice, shadowing and learning from their artists’ unique methods and studio life. There are 20 printmakers ‘up for grabs’, and when the break rolled round we got many signups for artists across the UK and beyond, stretching to Madrid and even New Zealand. I’ve signed up to work with Merlyn Chesterman, a woodblock printmaker based in Hartland, Devon. Printmaking is fascinating, and the potential to write about its order, atmosphere and magic, as emphasised in Jason Hicklin’s description of the practice, is an exciting one.
Hicklin prefaced his practice by suggesting ‘If you can survive until 40 and stay in the same business you’re going to be okay’. I’m 22. Can only hope.
Following the Bloomsbury Festival’s theme ‘The Paths We Tread’, the next section of this year’s Wordstock acted as the culmination of the 26 Bridges project, which partnered an artist and writer to create works for each bridge of the London Thames. Acting as a mythic addition to these 26 bridges came the infamous 27th Garden Bridge.
Paired with the artwork created for the 27th bridge, a textiles banner made by myself, the room was invited to blindfold themselves and embark on a sensory experience across the imagined bridge, accompanied by Sarah McCartney‘s perfumed porcelain disks, and a wafting of the Thames breeze made by watercolour paper and a flapping technique played out in dance by editor Max Parfitt.
It’s surprising how unquestioning a room of writers can be when asked to wear blindfolds and sniff from discs with bird noise playing for an unspecified section of time. The atmosphere was meditative and the responding 27-word poems were fantastic.
Sarah McCartney writes her 27-word poem for the 27th Bridge.
A shudder effect ran through the final section of the day, with Barbican Young Poets Soledad Santana and Daniel Grimston capturing a fearful trance with their collaborative and individual poetry readings. The pair worked in conversation with each other, spinning repeating fragments and silhouetted imagery that ensnared the room. A stunned silence hung in the gaps between poems and applause, and the conversation following was animated. Santana’s phrases were intricately unsettling, and Grimston’s intonations drew us across the rises and falls of their imagery. It was a fitting end to Wordstock and a perfect example of the truly impassioned world of poetry that 26 thrives within.
Many thanks to Alastair Creamer and the rest of the team for organising this year’s Wordstock, and to all the speakers, writers and artists who contributed their time and work to the event. It was a brilliant show, and I’m sure everyone is already counting the days until next year’s very special “Wordstock ‘26”…
– Joni Brown