Here’s an interesting project should anyone fitting the criteria wish to get invovled. Email me at secretagentartist@hotmail.com and I’ll pass your details on…

‘Researcher doing a diisertation for an Art Psychotherapy MA, subject:

More than time for an update I think, so here we have it. It’s comedy season in the city of Leicester, as Leicester’s longest running Comedy Festival swings around for it’s 15th year.

Not surprisingly, in this era of BrightSparks world domination, we’ve scheduled a couple of events as part of this years program, doubling last years contribution. The first of these two took place last Sunday and was our Mental Health  Benefit Gig. Excitingly the Comedy Festival had been so impressed by our work that they wanted to dedicate their official benefit gig to our cause. We decided to split the takings with National Mind and the event was a screaming success

A selection of high profile national acts (like Sarah Millican) and top local favourites (like Rob Gee and Wilf Horris) were parachuted in to give their comedy services for free. In the end we made 256 pound, 128 of which will go to BrightSparks. The night was hopefully also successful in further raising our profile, so many thanks to all who made it possible - The Comedy Festival, The comedians, The Musician Venue and of course, the audience.

We’re having our second gig this Friday - the 15th Feb. In contrast to our benefit gig the content of our BrightSparks Comedy Cabaret has been devised by BrightSparks artists, through a process of workshops. Led by lead artist, Rob Gee, these workshops have made for some pretty diverse material. What happens when a drug dealer tries to sell drugs to drug user and the drug user quibbles over the price? What do call centre operatives really think of callers? The answers to these questions and others will all be made clear

Tickets are a mere pinch in the air - 4 quid or 2 for concessions. All proceeds will of course, all go to BrightSparks. Importantly - there is also a free buffet

Hope to see you at the gig. Watch this space for more updates. If you’d like to volunteer an article about our organisation - or indeed a review of anything we’ve done or are doing, please send your article ideas to Lydia Towsey via: secretagentartist@hotmail.com

Cardiff is one of those words.
If language is a map, words
ordered by their relationship,
it is right out there, so far
off in the open it is nowhere.

It is one of those words, that
you know, you recognise, you
remember but you just don’t know
what it means. You carry it
around, but you can’t get it
out of the herd. I guess cows
recognise each other with that
black and white pattern I guess is
unique-but then I know you all
but don’t recognise your fingertips.
Cardiff is one of those words.
I know it’s there
in Wales, but where in Wales.
I don’t know. I don’t know who does
Cardiff is one of those words.
So is death.

Jo Swift 

So the last RAC Sparkplugs Poetry session has happened and the Sparky Poets will be taking a brief rest while we look for more funding. In the meantime, you might like to see what that last session entailed….

Consequences.

Making like a room full of teenagers we set about this much in demand exercise. Here are the randomly generated results:

She was taking pills for her optimism
He was horrified at how similar he
was to her wanton insubstantive-
ness – he wasn’t however convinced.
They met as residents of
a mental health community
government pickle jar!
He said “I used to live in Cornwall,
but then my wife died-so I came here.”
She said “run away with me and my cat”
In the end they got married and had 14 kids.
They lived happily ever after.

She was amusing to the point of death
He was in love with her.
They had gone out for ages.
They met at a party on a riverboat
on the river Thames.
He said:
“I’ve been looking for you all my life
now I’ve found you
will you be my wife.
She said:
“Don’t worry, it’s not contagious”
In the end it was-
“I hate you and I hate the ostriches
and never begun it never
once continued - ‘cept in the science
of simpletons and caterpillars.”

She was fantastic.
I loved her very much
She was my best friend.
He was dressed - in black.
They met at the bus station-
Stand number 12, it was the first time
They had been there together.
He said:
“Sorry love, you look like me mum.”
She said:
“I’d rather like a coat made of
lama and ghosts and ostrich”
In the end,
It was black eyes all around,
Until we shrugged it all off and agreed
“Wot was all that about?”

She was a young woman
With long flowing
Rapunzel-esque hair
That frequently became
Knotted around her ankles.
He was the minister of popular youth.
They met in the cinema.
That was where they had their first date.
He said-“I am here
For one night. One night only”
She said- “I feel the same.
You are my shining star
I’ve been waiting for you for all
Eternernity.
In the end, ‘a’ comes before ‘i’
Except after ‘b i’

She was my valentine, but when
she didn’t come home for a
week the bouquet of flowers
became withered and shrunk to reveal a
heart shaped twig skeleton.
He was an old man. Didn’t get out much
And suddenly there she was.
He said “I want to give you a baby
That we can love”
She said “I have written down
All that I have to say.”
In the end,
They strolled through life hand in hand.
Love had taken over their hearts
and they lived happily ever after.

She was the most beautiful female I ever set eyes on!
He was quite attached to his conscience.
Wherever the ghost left his hat
was where they were to meet-but
he only ever put down his umbrella
leaving his head, famously under
his hat.
He said: “Wassup? Girlfriend”
She didn’t say anything-she just looked at him
And then, raising one small hand
Slowly touched his face.
In the end, Felix and Deidre met Harry

She was profoundly disturbed by what had happened.
He was strolling through this situation called life
They met at a clinic for people with exclusive habits
He said “ abracadabra and allez-ka zoom
And all piffling bonkers stuff
That was quite possibly ill.
She said “I do worry about you, y’know?”
In the end they said no more
but went their separate ways.
He remembered her for months afterwards.

A ghost substantiated thinly
With griefs and veils of apprehension
she was.
He was more of a brother
Than a friend or a partner.
We bickered and fought
Like brothers banded and branded
Together with loyalty
They met in a shopping centre.
He was examining the silk cravats.
She was lingering by the till.
He said “take me to the moon
So I can see the stars.
She said “you can fuck off
You bastard.”
They never really knew what the
other person was thinking…”

The BrightSparks voicebox has been woefully far behind in keeping you to date with things that are exciting in all kinds of exciting ways.

Exciting thing number one: last weeks Sparkplugs. The sterling turnout of heavens knows how many trotted their way through a follow up Things I have brought exercise.  Those who’d done it as ‘homework’ read round to start. Those who hadn’t, did that as their sessional exercise and some others still did clever things with mixing lines up between the things they had brought exercise and things they had not …. Here are a couple of pieces, done in the session to illustrate the point.

My Darling

My seal of zeal
As the distant clouds
Is my beloved darling

Still she lays bare in the glass vessel

For time I look at the seasonal rain
And bare barren trees
To inform me of its meaning

Whilst the birds withdraw
As to escape its shadowy clutch

My musik now belongs to the tarmac
As the tyres crush,
Sounding like waves
Lapping against the seashore

I wrap myself in my warm, weathered waist coat
To shield me from its force

Finally I am reassured.

Sean Benjamin 2007

full of things I can’t remember
mixed up with things I can’t forget

I hold the stone which will become earth part of the planet from the star stuff and my body burns iiself to holdand the stone holds my hand back which is like the darkness reaching out to you which is like nothing holding you firmly this is an interlacing of my fingers and your fingers of darkness and nothing and there are rings on your fingers my darling and all the husbands and all the wives are solid stuff intershot with emptiness and we hold each other tight we put out the fires inside for rings are forever my darling but we are only now we are fists and fingers we are statues we are holding and so we are from the planet from the stars we are stones

Jo Twist

Last week new poet, Naomi Paula Naisbitt, attended Sparkplugs for the first time. A prolific writer she came up with a number of pieces, here’s one of them….

Loneliness

Loneliness is a cruel word,
it hurts me deep inside.
Nobody understands how much
or why.

The torture delves deep,
through the dark nights
and hurts me most
during the witching hours

12am to 2am
are the worst,
waiting till the clock strikes
tick, tick, tock -

monotonously,
endlessly
time travels on
till morning arrives.

With the birds chirping
and the sun rising
another day
and the torture continues

Will I ever find happiness?

Do you have some art you’d like to share? Artist and Myspace blogger, Steffi Pointon does….

Well, after a short break, The BrightSparks Poets are back on track, rejigged, renamed and ready to blow. ‘Sparkplugs’ relaunched this Wednesday, at the super swanky RAC (Richard Attenborough Centre). Subsidised by the RAC (through the vastly kind donation of space) and facilitated by me, the first session went really well.

We LOVE the centre. The room is spacious, light and airy, packed with books and condusive for writing. The cafe downstairs does great snacks and is lovely to break in. The art throughout the centre is fabulous. We are very happy and we would like to stay please, so…Lydia must get writing that funding application so when our 10 week pilot runs out, we can do.

In our first session we read Not a CV (or I am not who you think I am), a fantastic piece by Penelope Shuttle and one which had inspired me to write Not a Mathemetician a few weeks earlier. After discussing Penelope’s piece we kicked off with a writing and feedback exercise-which ended up taking the rest of our time. The group wrote following the same ‘negative’ theme, but using the prompt: ‘Things I have not brought with me’. This exercise is a kind of linguistic version of the drawing exercise, where you draw the spaces between objects rather than the objects themselves. In many ways it follows on nicely from Mark Goodwins earlier exercise in lying…sometimes, more can be revealed by reading between the lines…. Anyway, here are some of the poets solutions…

Things I haven’t brought with me today

I have not brought my seal of zeal this afternoon

As a distant cloud has dulled my mood

Also not with me is my beloved darling

Who has in-fact not been with me for quite sometime

My watch stands still in the glass vessel on the coffee table

This was too big to put into my folder

However, I did bring my pen but not the lid

As this hampers writing for me

I haven’t brought my CD collection which is growing out of all proportion

As these can now be stored onto my MP 3 player

This happens to be plugged into my friend’s ear and not mine

Alas neither my friend nor his ear is here so lend an ear

And spare him a thought.

Sean Benjamin 2007

More ‘not’ poems to follow….

If you made it down to our BrightSparks Comedy Gig last Friday, well done-you did the right thing. If not, tut, tut, you only have yourselves to blame-but we’re sure you must have had an excellent excuse.

In the end we sold out. 85plus people (they were a bugger to count) took the Guildhall prisioner and showed no mercy in their descending on the buffet. They also laughed, applauded and cheered with gusto throughout the evening. Highlights have got to include the excellent compering of Nick King and Rob Gee, the bizaare genius of the ‘I killed a snake’ song, by Grant Paton, Steffi Pointons ‘Poppy’ and of course Ralf Horris..but of course there was SO much MORE…

Recently, we at BrightSparks have been helping folk set up their own blogs. To have a sneak preview of some of the best of these - as they develop, check out the following links - and messages from our fellow sparkers (like bloggers…who are also brightsparks-see?!)

Steffi Pointon on MySpace..if you myspace, go on to the site and seek her out. Alternatively, follow this link…Steffi’s URL is…http://www.myspace.com/155749212. She’s in the process of putting up some quite fantastic art work-and songs…when we sort the techy bit out!

Steffi says “don’t let the buggers get you down”