bristol biennialThe Bristol Biennial launches this Friday at the Folk House and with just a week to go before the first performance of MINE at Goldney Grotto, I am busily polishing all the Bristol Diamonds and light bulbs I can get my hands on.

In the meantime, there will be an interview with me bright and early on Saturday morning for the The Martin Evans Show on BBC Radio Bristol and Somerset and you can catch sight of me reading part of MINE in the grotto as part of a new series on BBC Inside Out West next week.  Plus a miniature mention in this week’s Guardian Guide (and online here).  Oh me oh mine.


So I thought it might be a good time to sneak a quick peek at the poem.  And as time is tight and time is up and there is still so much to do, I’ve piled it all up into a rushed sort of stalagmite. There’s about two million years here.  I hope that makes us even.

Looking forward to meeting so many of you in the grotto next week to talk amongst the cockles and cowries and Oxheart clams.  If you haven’t already bought tickets, there’s a few left but be quick! And while you’re there, have a wander around the rest of the programme and perhaps I’ll see you again and again at Hug? Or Chimera or Grass Men? Was that a yes?



Since the beginning of the year I have been busy with two major projects.  The first has been writing and preparing a long poem for performance in a glittering subterranean grotto in central Bristol.  The other has been fielding questions from puzzled Bristolians who had no idea there was a cave full of crystals under their feet.  It’s a secret and I’m very excited to be sharing it.


This September, you can join me amongst Bristol’s dirt and second best diamonds.  Over twelve short performances, I will be guiding six guests at a time into the extraordinary underworld of Goldney Grotto, an 18th-century, Grade-1 listed cave blistered with crystals taken from the Avon Gorge and coral collected from slavers’ ports.  It is one of Bristol’s finest – and darkest – hidden treasures.

crystalsThe grotto is only very rarely open to the public so come along for the crystals alone.  But maybe stay to explore the underworld, play cards with the poet, trade voices and dig up a murder mystery, a disastrous meeting, a comedy, a spiralling inferno.


Commissioned by Bristol Biennial, MINE. has been written and developed with support the Jerwood Charitable Foundation and Arvon, and I am especially grateful to my very wise and very wonderful mentor Clare Pollard who has edited the manuscript and tackled the difficulties of performing both on the move and underground.  And at twilight.  With a bag of rocks.  In a hole.  With a lion.


shellsI must also give thanks to the University of Bristol who have allowed me to perform in the space and undertake multiple site visits as I continue my hunt for the rare Oxheart clam that researchers with keener eyes have spotted amongst the raucous stucco of over two hundred species of shell.

Finally, in terrifyingly exciting news, MINE. will also be available as a limited edition pamphlet printed by City Edition Studio with support from Spike Island and Arts Council England in September 2014.  More information on this very shortly.

In the meantime, let’s all dash wild-eyed at this Facebook page and if you think you’d like to journey into the grotto with me this September click here to book tickets!


September 16th, 17th and 18th 2014
Performances: 5pm, 6pm, 7pm, 8pm
Running time: 45 minutes
Tickets: £5 / £4 Early Birds at 5pm
Location: Goldney Hall, Lower Clifton Hill, Bristol, City of Bristol BS8 1BH

Suitable footwear recommended.

Bristol Biennial is an international artist-led festival that celebrates exciting and engaging projects by talented emerging artists. In 2014, the festival takes ‘Crossing the Line’ as its theme, exploring artistic boundaries and encouraging collaboration across the city. Bristol Biennial 2014 is supported by Arts Council England. See here for the full programme.

dylan-homerThis autumn (oh hey autumn! You’re looking pretty lovely from where I’m sitting in July’s sweaty palms) I take up a new residency at the Bristol Poetry Institute.  The BPI is hosted by the University of Bristol and run by Danny Karlin, Winterstoke Professor of English, with Rachael Boast, whose works include Sidereal, winner of a Forward Prize and Pilgrim’s Flower which was shortlisted for the Griffin Prize and I am dancing at the opportunity to be a part of this vital project for poetry in the city.

I am grateful to the BPI for inviting me to lead a series of workshops on site-specific poetry for students at the University of Bristol, and I will also be holding consultation hours for students to receive one-to-one support with their own writing.  The residency will end with a public reading on the 13th December 2014 and I’ll post more details nearer the time.

poetryschoolIf you’re a student at Bristol or you’re interested in booking a place on the workshop series, get in touch or check this page for further details.

If you’re not a student or if you don’t live in Bristol or if you’re not planning on going outside or away from your computer or into some trousers any time soon, then I can still come to you!  In (hopefully) a less (but probably more) terrifying shape than is pictured in the CAMPUS cover (left), I will also be teaching online this autumn.

The Poetry School have invited me to teach as part of their 5 Easy Pieces course on CAMPUS, their online teaching forum.  Alongside the awesome Harry Man, Kim Moore, J T Welsch and Jen Campbell, I’ll be leading a session on something strange and, for now, secret.  When I can, I will let you know more and I will appear, pleased pink and looming behind your screen.

While I whittle my new projects (including one big splintery one soon to be announced!), I have started woodworking.  Actually.  Truly.  On my tenon saw and sliding bevel, no word of a lie.

It’s so familiar a strategy it should probably be considered part of writing, part of an artist’s practice.  Emily Dickinson baked.  Gabriel Orozco throws boomerangs.  I’ve been given a rusty plane and I’ve got no patience.

Perfect. I’m three weeks into my course at Bristol Women’s Workshop and I’ve been allowed to bring home my first foul thing.  I would be too embarrassed but I want to document the start: a book stand.

Or, more accurately, a book limiter.  Since the panicky book-swallowing days of university, I’ve developed a bad habit of reading too many books at the same time and amongst the complicated expansion of overlaps, there are always some books that never get finished before they are lent to a friend or eaten up in a house move.

So now, my unfinished, unvarnished book limiter stands on my desk, operating a one-in-one-out service for my fidgety reading pattern.

And for my fidgety hands, I am now onto dovetails and chisels and tricky, slow patience.


spikeopenyardReady the trumpets.  I have recently been approved as a permanent studio holder at Spike Island, which means I am now dusting my desk for tonight’s launch of the Spike Island Open 2014.

If you want to explore this former Brooke Bond tea packing factory after hours, poke a nose into a painter’s studio or ask a performance artist what they do with their days, you should come.

Marko Wilkinson, who shares Studio 82 with me is currently installing a camp fire and a one-man tent and a one-man-sized flatscreen erected in the middle of the studio. And if this isn’t enough to have you pitching up tonight, have a look at the weekend’s brochure.

I have set up a temporary library of poetry magazines, pamphlets and artist’s books, alongside stoc, which takes visitors along the balcony corridor and displaces the chatter and clatter of the Aynsley China factory to the corner of my studio.


The work was originally installed in the original Spode Factory site for the British Ceramics Biennial 2013 and is still tightly tied to Stoke as a place (or places) and the ceramics industry that sometimes manages to exploit and elide these same places.  The plates displayed in my studio (above) are from Spode’s ‘Stafford Flowers’ range, made in ‘Staffordshire’ but manufactured both elsewhere and separately; the small plate in India, the larger in Thailand.  In its original placement, stoc occupied the dead spaces in a derelict factory: air vents, damaged ware benches, storage cases where the gilded plates had been abandoned after the factory’s closure.

Transferred now to the bright corridors of the balcony studios, stoc starts looks a little more like a chintzy china shop.  Perhaps I am enjoying this transformation more than I had anticipated.  Perhaps I will host a tea party or two.  If I do, here’s your invitation:



Jerwood / Arvon Mentoring Scheme 2014/15 Mentors and Mentees at The Hurst

Jerwood / Arvon Mentoring Scheme 2014/15 Mentors and Mentees at The Hurst

Ahead of tomorrow and the beginning of The Cruellest Month, March has been all yes yes and oh boy by gum.  After a long winter of rewriting, good news arrived like buses.  In a single Monday morning, two double decker party buses of good news pulled up.

Bus One.  My name appeared amongst the Highly Commended poets in Faber & Faber’s announcement of the winners of the Faber New Poets series.  For those waiting, it was a long one and I am still checking the press release to make sure I haven’t made this up.  My wildest congratulations to the winning poets – Rachael Allen, Will Burns, Zaffar Kunial and Declan Ryan – whose pamphlets will be out in the autumn.  YES!  Thrilling things, for sure.

And as if that wasn’t enough to have me high-fiving my way through some writerly celebration montage, fist pumping to Woman’s Hour and waltzing with a plant pot, etc. the phone rang again. Arvon were calling to let me know that after my interview, Clare Pollard had selected me as one of three poets to be part of the Jerwood/Arvon Mentoring Scheme.  The radio and the pot plant went out the window and I think I had to have a little sit down.  Oh March!

And so.

I have just returned from The Hurst, where nine emerging writers – three poets, three novelists, three playwrights – began our year together with our Jerwood mentors with an intensive week of workshops and eating, late nights and bright mornings.  It was incredible.  I am enormously excited about the year ahead as I begin to work on my projects with Clare’s guidance – and I am privileged to be doing this alongside poets Deborah Stevenson and Ian Dudley, whose performances last Friday night were so beautiful, so good I almost ate my own hands.  Also, workshops in movement with David Eldridge and narrative voice with Jenn Ashworth punched tiny holes all through my writing, and I am indebted to David in particular for making us speak only in vegetables for an hour. Mangetout, mangetout, mangetout – (thank you) – to all of you, and especially Arvon and the Jerwood Foundation for having me on board the bus.

© holly corfield carr

© holly corfield carr

The wonderful Kirsty Logan invited me to be her latest blog burglar as part of Thievery, a series in which writers share the stories behind their stories.  It’s a lovely dream of half-heard songs, re-read books and grainy photographs of childhood, riotgrrls and Rasputin.  Have a read.

So, I add to this my photograph of my mum and sister walking into the fog.  They look a bit casually dressed for the apocalypse.  It was only supposed to be a short walk.  My sister’s ankles are bare.

This is the photograph I took of the fog in 2010.  I add to this readings of watermelon snow, rakfisk recipes, Patsy Cline lyrics, a family trip to Bleik in 1999.  Somewhere in all of this, I find Fog, a short story of mine published in Ambit 209 in 2012.  Read my Thievery post here.

What do you think?  Does it help to know where I was when I started the story?  What does it mean to hold one fiction inside another (because who knows whether I was listening to Patsy Cline? whether I have found minced beef loose in the freezer drawer? whether I went to Norway? whether I ran away?  whether the weather? whether the hell-for-leather? whatever?).

Perhaps this is a defensive position to take but as I started to put together my thieved thoughts, I started to write another story.  The same story, I guess, but a different angle.  And I got to know my writing self a bit better, fictionalising her.  Maybe that’s what this is all about.

Thanks, thanks, thanks to Kirsty for giving me the opportunity to wander through the fog again.  I found more than I expected.

And if you can, have a read of Kirsty’s own thievings; her first collection The Rental Heart and Other Stories is out with Salt next month and this blog feels like a gorgeous bundle of secrets ahead of the publication day.