Day One of the Plymouth Arts Weekender 2017: Various Areas

So here we are again, PAW round two. So far it's been a wet but still fulfilling day and I can only expect more to come. Someone help me, what have I done? But in all seriousness, I am writing this review for the university's online magazine so I must make the effort, plus I like working to deadlines. So enjoy.
NB: as this article was written in collaboration with Plymouth University's SU:Media online magazine, some editing has been done which I have applied (in places).

It’s getting late as the first day of the Plymouth Arts Weekender 2017 draws to a damp close, but the challenge of documenting this city-wide event still lays before me, and so, in true student fashion, I shall be awake long after my accustomed bedtime (and probably for the next two nights also).

I was reasonably well rested but was very eager to seek out the artistic talent that was on offer in the Scott Building on campus. My main goal was to locate on the top floor a small exhibition of MA Photography called Perception. Slowly tracing my way down the silent corridor, I gave each piece my full attention and found my favourites to be thus:

She is Whispering, They are Whispering

 Mary Pearson – She is Whispering, They are Whispering: an almost 3-dimensional diptych of misty trees which felt as if they were hiding their aforementioned whisperer(s) in the gloom.

Cheryl Davies – The Seven Seals: a contrasting pair of white on black Spirograph-effect forms, one orderly, one chaotic, but both equally discomforting in their respective states.

Christopher J. Russell – My friend, you are a lunar lamplight: in five night-time shots and a brief travel narrative, the streets at night are brought alive despite their apparent barrenness, everything the light shines on brought into sharp focus.

Donna Richardson – The River Flows; and Mathilda Hu – It’s difficult to be water: water can be a difficult form to capture, but both Richardson and Hu managed to depict their subject uniquely and clearly. 'The River Flows' provided a snapshot of life, especially vivid when seen through a lightbox, the motion of the water’s texture anticipated but never realised. However, with 'It's difficult to be water', this texture was played with, first scaly and cold, then soft, through to warm and golden.

Sue Taylor-Money – Leaving by Degrees: a particularly poignant piece told through photo and poem of an ageing man contemplating life, exuding a kind of sad strength which touched me, as I imagine it would have done others.

After a little disappointment from two exhibits nearby – and a few hours spent manning the Peninsula Arts stall during Freshers Fair (my thanks to everyone who came and listened) – I wandered my way through the rain to the Safe House. This was an installation whose location was only disclosable via email, but which revealed itself to be a small semi-interactive sound-and-vision immersion within St Peter’s Church. 
I was greeted by the artist herself (who shall remain anonymous), who, in keeping with the installation’s domestic theme, provided me with a mug of tea before explaining the story behind what I was seeing/hearing. Each of the four projected videos within the small chamber illustrated her feelings concerning domestic abuse, something she has been a victim of herself: a cloth doll being gradually unpicked; the suicidal or forced proximity to a cliff edge; the playful yet uneasy fall of feathers as if from a pillow fight; and the small beams of light/hope from a net curtain. Wrapped up in a paranoid-schizophrenic chatter, its entrance was strewn with broken eggshells – which I was encouraged to walk on – and it was impossible not to feel uneasy myself; the church, a usually safe place, only amplified the voices. But Karen, by providing me with the background information and becoming my living placard, seemed to soften the chaos, further illustrated by the happier, silent video which sat on a separate set nearby.

Still smiling, as I walked back into town through the rain, my penultimate stop was I am not a robot at the Radiant Gallery on Derry’s Cross. Set up to raise awareness of foster care, the small dimly lit space was haunting, hung with tangled webs of fabric and multiple silver and white cages, each home to a furless, metallic, sleeping Furby. These would periodically wake up with a subtle click of their plastic ears and beaks, half-lidded eyes blazing bright. The atmosphere was enhanced by a sci-fi soundtrack which was equal parts hopeful, yet haunting. These metallic ‘children’, representative of real ones, were intended as foster child analogues to test one’s fostering skills, but the moment I saw Tim Burton’s poetry sitting on the provided sofa, I was only worried I’d make the poor things cry.

Thus, with a rotisserie chicken Subway in hand, I finished the day with an evening of words and sound at Versify, the culmination of a month of creative workshops at Union Corner. Having spent the better part of an hour simultaneously finishing a half-written poem about an overzealous poet and listening to those on the night’s set-list practise their material, we were ready to begin. Amongst the talent was a spot of exotic dancing, some short but infectious rapping, young singers testing their vocal chords on punk and rock, an even younger dance prodigy who moved like a robot marionette, and a sizable dose of modern day comedic poetry, most notably (and deafeningly) delivered by the established poet Nick Ingram - a man I would describe as the ‘clown’ of the Plymouth poetry scene. When it came to test out my new material, I was genuinely surprised at my own nerves, but also at the post-delivery high I had forgotten came with these gigs – not to mention the occasional enthusiastic compliments. My good friend Mark Jones followed in my wake with his own breed of brief and bizarre wit, before the night began to wind down and put an end to day one of PAW17.