The ‘Sound Translations’ project planned for the Newcastle Young Writers’ Festival has taken a scissor kick to the left; one of the artists has had an accident and can no longer mix and match poems to beats. This was speedily followed by another sound artist having to pull out due to circumstances beyond [insert your preference for omnipotent being] control. So Red Room’s original project plan has become: Open the Audio & Text Index for all broadcasters of the festival radio shows rather than working with two selected artists.
Helicopters hurry in and behind clouds as I blog. Normally, I blog to the urban sounds of cat meows or plastic garbage bins being stacked in neat piles by a vigilant neighbour – who runs a hairdressing salon from his lounge room.
Today Emily Ballou is in Yass, poem-ing with the students and exploring the cabinets which have taken over Mt Carmel School. The English teacher, Sarah Johnson tells me, even the sacred glass cabinet that holds sporting trophies has had to make space for poetic action.
Red Room has arranged for our poet to sleep in a quaint bed and breakfast where she can dream up new poems following her Yass experiences. I’d imagine this Yass B&B offers similar sweet clichés to all others: shy breakfasts of orange juice and poached eggs, baths with white flannels and lavender soap and a welcoming committee of a bouncy maternal owner telling a salivating terrier it has too much energy for jumping onto laps.
