All entries for Sunday 27 April 2008

April 27, 2008

‘A wren–haunted S of a stream’: at Stones Barn #4

One key difference is the way Stones Barn is organised and run, as compared to Arvon. Arvon is a national organisation with a guiding council and centre directors; Stones Barn is one woman’s cultural enterprise, albeit with a goodly number of close and clever friends helping and suggesting. In the end though, Stones Barn is Maddy Priors’ vision and, without her, it would be a quite different experience – in personal as well as professional ways. For example, the most magical experience for me was when I was sat in the front pew of Bewcastle Church (right)and Maddy Bewcastle Cross and Church

suddenly sang the haunting song ‘Bewcastle’, without accompaniment, in the pew seven rows behind me. The church, deserted apart from Maddy, Anette and three poets, filled and unfurled with this aurora borealis of a voice over five minutes. According to the poets outside, the song carried easily through the walls and across the graveyard under snow.

In terms of hospitality, talent and efficiency there is no difference between Arvon and Stones Barn: both provide great, sometimes miraculous artistic experiences. In terms of artistic and cultural impact, they both provide superb facilities and tutors. Arvon’s courses are slightly longer than those of Stones Barn, but Stones Barn is slightly cheaper in price – although this does not include accommodation (but this part of the world provides good deals for accommodation and pub food).

I think you should try both experiences. What Stones Barn has in spades is a kind of natural playfulness: the barn is a full-on play-room, and outside are fantastically wild and interesting landscapes. If you go, make sure you go into Maddy’s two woodlands – one has a wren-haunted S of a stream; the other has a delightful reedy mini-wetland. We did a placement-poetry workshop using these woods - see photos below and elsewhere in these blogs..

Helen Moore Placed Poem There is excellent walking too. The hike to Bewcastle church is short but, in a blizzard, nothing less than epic. We did a walking-workshop during which the weather turned to white-out. It produced some truly remarkable writing. One poet got lost in the slicing snow; a slight panic ensued during which roads were searched by other poets; then a local handyman (trade name Andy Man) discovered the poet making her way Shackleton-like towards the border. I was sorry to leave Stones Barn and will look forward to returning.