Tables, chairs and unimaginative leaving of empty drink bottles on the window ledge was a frustrating opening to the ‘Occasional Poetry’ installation. It was certainly the most interesting, curious and unexpected window front of the festival night opening. And, all yesterday, especially when lit under the bruised night sky, the installation was a space of contemplation and quiet. That was only if you could squeeze past the chairs and tables the cafe insists on sitting infront of the window front. I tried to monitor the tables myself but unless I stand there in flesh and huffs instructing punters to slurp their soup from a distance to allow the dummies space to breathe, I’m afriad the installation will be a little hard to stand infront of and gaze at. Any customer of the cafe has the perfect view of the window contents and being bold in body will allow you to view the space but you may have to hip a few tables and push back the odd chair to eye it all.
Today I shall pleasantly request the table be moved back to allow for a viewing area, but with a cafe needing to make profit I doubt poetry will be placed before the plate.
Regardless of the intimate, breathless space debacle the occasional badges / wearing of our poems has been a tremendous and powerful way to bring poetry into every area of the festival. Countless collars proudly boast a line from Greg, Adam or Claire’s poem. Tiny oval slogans that enforce the reader to move into the wearer and create a strange literary intimacy, the reading of the badge on a person almost brings about a kiss or embrace of the words and the word wearer.
