The Power of Place/Where I Sit
This twin installation features writing from an anthology of prose and poetry written in response to the East Devon landscape.
The anthology collated by the Word Kitchen, is comprised of stories, encounters, settings and environments written by published authors, first-time poets, children and older people.
From Where I Sit
This installation depicts the visual scene imagined from one of the contributions from The Power of Place – an anthology of prose and poetry written in response to the East Devon landscape.
The anthology collated by the Word Kitchen, is comprised of stories, encounters, settings and environments written by published authors, first-time poets, children and older people.
The observations and memories collected from the many contributors collectively recognise the importance of place and environment and our relationship to it. There is humour and sadness, nostalgia and provocation.
From Where I Sit
"I sit in the same single armchair.
I’m on my own. From there
I can see the fireplace
but I don’t light a fire -
No point. There are various ornaments on the mantlepiece.
There’s an elephant made of teak. Probably teak.
There’s a couple. Two people. I don’t recall who they are.
There’s a clock on a small table but it doesn’t tick.
It’s very quiet. I don’t need to go out
in the garden to hear the birds."
Power of Place
The anthology provides a friendly selection of writing from people at all stages of their lives, helping us to realise that our own identities are found and formed in relation to the natural world around us.
Scroll through some of the contributions to the anthology...
"And suddenly swifts On this Sunday afternoon
With the sun a breezeful chuckle
Of kiss-chase clouds
And the grass high enough
To tickle thighs
And the sky a swirl
Of astonished avian joy"
"Twenty pence pieces
In a sandwich bag all for me
Plopped onto the oscillating lap
Of a coin machine"
"The smell of jasmine hits
As I walk down to Oak Slip,
The place where your boats used to be."
"Memories of wading at high tide,
as it is now,
the brown murky water
curves along the sand
steeped in memories"
"My father was full of stories"
"You need to climb
through fallen trees to get to the path
and I like that. Stooping to get through,
holding the torn wood."
"Betjeman called it ‘seductive Sidmouth,
More exclusive than Torquay’
And the letters of Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Describe its charm and beauty."
"swimming away my struggles
Into the deep blue in front of me,
Feeling them wash away."
"Those hearty chats with mum, taking away
The pressure of life."
"Topsoil the depth of a man’s leg
the very stuff of this county
iron rich and red as blood"