Artsenta Jingles

This week we wrote some advertising copy for Artsenta and also for our radio show Artwaves. Naturally there are some basic details to get across but we also wanted to make it memorable and give the listener a flavour of Artsenta. Some are a little theatrical and some quite musical. 



Artsenta needs you!
Wanted! All those seeking
to express their creativity
Artsenta is beckoning!
Come to the reckoning!
Print-making, poetry
Jewellery and singing
All this 'tis bringing
Monday to Friday
462 Princess Street
It's hard to beat
Creative Community
It's a certainty
Improve mental health
That's our wealth!
Artsenta!

- Pauline



First person: Creative aren't they!
Second person: Whose creative?
First person: The artists!
Second person: Who are the artists?
First person: The artists from the Artsenta!
Second person:The artists are from the Artsenta and are creative!
First person: Yes they are!
The Artsenta is an art studio situated at 424 Princess Street for anyone using mental health services who are exploring their own creative abilities. It's a place where musicians, poets, painters, weavers, or anyone with a creative flare can make their own uniquely empowered artwork. If you aren't doing anything and think this is for me, then our doors are open Monday-Friday 10am-4.30pm. Just turn up.

- Haki
   


For the mental health community
For those who think outside the square
For those who hear voices
Don't worry it's only the radio!
And the radio is telling you,
Forget your worries and come to Artsenta
It will make you feel better
With creative art that's good for your heart
Making stories and pictures
And music for listeners
Artsenta, 462 Princes Street
Week days, 9:00am-4:30pm



Artwaves, where everyone behaves
And shares what's in their caves
Art, words and pictures
And music for listeners
Brought to you by Artsenta
Artwaves is every second Wednesday
At 2pm on Otago Access Radio
Say hello to Art-waves
With Art-sent-a
Smell of heaven

Phillip Porteous

All the best cliches

While considering what makes a good poem, we discussed how cliches should be avoided. A website had helpfully listed a 100 or so of the most common. So we decided it would  be fun to try and use as many as we can in a poem. Here is one or two of the results!



COMING UP ROSES

According to my local garden centre
           'violets are blue'
I shake my head in doubt as I stare at
           white violets,
peering from under leaves in the tub by my door.

This garden 'will be the death of me!'
It draws me out and demands
           my day, my spring, my life.
My 'Archilles heel' aches from too much bending, as
     tasked to 'work around the clock', I remove
           soil, crocks, water and weeds.
I pause and stand upright in the 'golden silence'
    the number of tasks overwhelming.
'All in good time' allows for a pot of coffee
           and a new thought.
'Everything's coming up roses' except for mine!
These are indeed the 'thorn in my side',
    with clusters of aphids and silvering bark
          'as far as the eye can see'.
'The tip of the iceberg' I mutter
    and wait for 'my ship to come in'!

- Karen



MOUSE EXCLUDED

She waited
With baited breath
Her body still
Paw raised
Staring fixedly
More than meets the eye
A mouse
Patience
Stillness
All in a days work
All's well that ends well
Mouse excluded

- Pauline

Art

What is art?
Is it all perfectly drawn
                without mistakes?
Or can it be beautiful things
from the heart that are created?
That become a masterpiece.
A picture, mosaic, pottery, music,
singing, painting, jewellery making
and many other things.

Amazing to see beautiful pictures
created by words.
Mosaic masterpieces coming together
from broken plates.
Their different colours blended together.
Glass pictures the sun shines through.
Light flickers around the room.
Broken China pieces, glued onto a picture
Or free hand colours, coming together
The colours blend, whether they are
bright or bland, sharp or flat.
Each bit glued on forms or pictures.
From old bits of China, something new
is birthed - its beauty for all to see
and enjoy.

Every person has artistic genes
running through their blood
               still to be discovered.
The Artsenta has been a place of discovering
fresh artistic talents and the opportunity
for those threads to be developed.

- Nola

The senses have been our inspiration in writing group lately. We started with sound then moved on to taste and touch. The diversity of work generated is fantastic. Here is a small portion.



THE SILENCE

He could hear her in the bedroom
Crashing and thrashing around
Slamming drawers and doors
Stamping and cursing as she threw things
around the room
Snapping the suitcase shut
Stomping down the stairs
Slamming the door as she left
And then the silence...
The silence that seemed to echo around him
Highlighting his aloneness.



NEVER AGAIN

Hot
Spicy
Sweating
Mouth on fire
Diarrhea
Never again


- Christine Phelp



TOUCH

Is the pressure alright?

An elbow has a dull point.
It sews its way through
    the layered depths of pain,
intensity surrendering to
                a sharp ache.

Heat spreads smooth
the crocodile skin bag
of muscles long rigid
with unasked overuse.
Dull lumps soften little
to the teasing stroke
     of hands and arms
Such pressure to yield!

- Karen



MAIL SORTING CENTRE, 1990s

In the mail sorting centre
    three hundred people worked
             backdrop of humming machines
                             that sorted mail

But there was still room
For manual sorting
Boxes in front of them
Room enough for them
To talk and sort
Talk about their lives
Sweet talking
Above the humming machines

- Robert



TOUCHED BY THE DEVINE

If you wait for it
You could be waiting for a thousand years
You can't go to the divine
But the divine can get to you
Knowing the divine is not enough
He has to come to you
Waiting for a touch may never come to you
in this life
The few touched by the divine
Never got over it
To be touched by the divine
Is never easy to understand
It's a mystery that no-one will understand

- Haki Davis

Using a chorus line

Today we used a chorus line to create a poem. The chorus line is a repeating line of poetry and is often used at the start or end of a set of lines or stanza. It helps create structure and, we hope, added significance or potency to our poem.



THE DAY

The day has begun
Early morning rise

The day has begun
4:30am, still a bit tired

The day has begun
Happy to be alive

The day has begun
Looking for the light

The day has begun


- Haki Davis



HITCH-HIKER

I hitch-hiked into a dusty town, cars passing by,
A young man uncertain of the future,
Lonely among the mountains and the hills,
Needing to get to the city and my friends.

I hitch-hiked into a dusty town, cars passing by,
Will I get to where I want at end of day,
Or will I sleep at side of road,
Snug as a bug in my sleeping bag?

I hitch-hiked into a dusty town, cars passing by,
Would they take pity on a weary traveller,
Who could not settle down,
But wandered country roads, cities and towns?

I hitch-hiked into a dusty town, cars passing by,
Younger then, but would not do it now,
I am older and have settled down,
Driving country roads, cities and the towns.


- Robert




BELOW SWAMPY

    Golden Autumn grass gleams in the evening sun
a few home sheep stand like rocks in the far paddock
Red and brown, the leaves blow from the Prunus
        and the Waitati fog whispers in

Up on the motorway saddle
    lights pierce the white-out cloud
truck wheels rumble and the clay pan vibrates
    as the Waitati fog slides by

      Sunset over Flagstaff
shards of fiery light pierce my eyes
lighting windows and throwing shadows
    as it shreds through the Waitati fog

Darkness. House lights are seen
    traffic is muffled on Highway one, TVs call
    Curtains close
Blacking out the drifting Waitati fog

- Karen



CAN'T STOP THE TRAIN

You won't stop the train from rolling
Can you see the days and weeks?
Here comes those voices round my mind
I can't stop the train from rolling

I am alone with raging thoughts
Feeling frightened and confused
'Who's there?' Just starting to panic
Can't stop the train from rolling

Stop. Look back and calm. But you know
You won't stop the train from rolling

- Philip



THE FLAGS

I am curious what the flags represent
They must mean something important
It can't be a national event or gathering
There doesn't seem to be police or body guards
I am now thinking 'What have I missed?'

I am curious what the flags represent
It's in my part of the community
Now I feel annoyed because I'm unsure
Curiosity killed the cat (superstitious), tho
I am still curious what the flags represent

I feel lost. It's not in the newspaper
Now I'm taking a determined step
I'm feeling confident enough to ask
'Excuse me, can you tell me what's happening?
I'm curious what the flags represent?'

Polite chap he was. He and the rest of the flag holders
were for a campaign of freedom, choices and equality
I feel happy. Now I know what the flags represent!

- Vince

Impressions

Today we explored impression writing. We started by listing things we know about, whether that is a hobby, sport or place. We chose one thing and then expanded on that, writing about what makes it special, what it looks, sounds or smells like, how it makes us feel, what it makes us wonder about? We then wrote a poem using short fragmented lines. The aim was to create an impression of the subject or thing without using normal sentences. The beauty of this is that it leaves room for others to create their own meaning from our poems and gives us as writers another way to write about the world around us.


FIRE

Dancing to a tune
Burning brighter than a light
Hungry as a lion
Invincible
Immortal
Energising
Powerful
Active
Dancing with the divine

- Haki Davis



W.B. YEATS, POET

Sligo graveyard by the sea
Yellow-red sunset
Peace
Swans on the lake
Quiet town
Flat topped mountain above
The poet writes
Leaves the world a better place
I come to his resting place

- Robert



PINEHILL CLOUD

dense white
            loitering, lingering
     solid like marshmallow
                     silently creeping
compressing smells, smoke, light.
Heat from body, hearth and home is sucked
Now feeling safe, enclosed, secure;
    like Capetown's Tablecloth, our Blanket

- Karen



ANOTHER DAY

another day
graceful hello
gentle touch
kind word
a second to share
ready
a smile
we've done it again
happy
another day

- Molly



DREAM A LITTLE DREAM

Curving up and down
Like waves
Curled in my arms
Light as a feather
It springs into action
My fingers fly
Flickering strings sing
in falsetto
     Smiling and singing
         Smiling and singing
With laughing eyes
Play on you say
Play on.

- Paul

Haiku #2

Haiku is a popular and accessible form of poetry that some members of our writing group were keen to try. They're short (the Haiku) but deceptively difficult to do well. The aim is to use as few words as possible to capture a moment in time. According to one expert "a good Haiku conveys through implication and suggestion a moment of keen perception or insight into nature or human nature". Traditionally there are references to the environment or season, grounding the poem in the world around us. Sometimes they have contrasting or juxtaposing elements that can surprise or make us think differently about something. People often use a 5-7-5 syllable format for each line but this is not as important as the ability to paint a picture with few words, capture a moment and achieving that 'aha' moment. 

Here's a few that the group came up with in today's session. 

Fog obscured land

Above white - blue

Albatross gliding

- Karen

White whiskers twitching

Beady eyes glint, surveying

Patter of feet race

- Rose McCulloch

Poor smoker puffing

Smoking golden tobacco

Poor health of wallet

- Phil Porteous

Fog obscures the beach

Waves rolling to the shoreline

Distant figures turn

Hills glow in yellow

Moments later they are dark

Bird twitters loudly

- Robert 

Ice-cream melting

Very hot day

Damn, not my car

Man standing alone

Should he stay or should he go?
Bloody bus service!

- James Macandrew

sounds echoed around
getting louder and louder
within her head


grass grows all around
mown in intricate patterns
rugby sprigs destroy

- Christine Philp