Viva Seething

Seethingography was originally a way for me to come down to Seething and start a writing group, and to engage Seething Villagers in thinking about what made the place that they live in special to them. I ran workshops, meet ups and an event for National Poetry Day, plus we went on a drift through Seething to explore its many quirks and secrets.

The blog has seen lots of writing and images exploring this theme, and led to the publishing of two anthologies of writing in The Seethingographer, the first from Seething Writers and the second from writers all over the world (as Seething has no boundaries!) writing on the theme of ‘Going Home’.

The Seethingographer #2

Anyone who is familiar with my own writing, and practice as a walking artist, may know that much of my work is concerned with place- how we are affected by it and how we affect it. This led to my publishing a chap book, Villiers Path, about a narrow footpath in Surbiton, which has a surprising history attached to it. I hope to do some walks and performances there later this year. See my blog or Facebook page for updates on this in the Autumn.

Villiers Path: Scalloped Time Chapbook

I was also lucky enough to publish local ecologist and bat expert Alison Fure’s pamphlet, Kingston’s Apple Story By A Michelson’s Seedling, about the local history and apple growing heritage in the Royal Borough of Kingston Upon Thames and surrounding area. I am delighted to say this is now in its second print run, and I have been chuffed to be able to support Alison’s drive to try to save the Tolworth Apple Store in publishing this important work.

Kingston’s Apple Story by Alison Fure

Chapbooks are for sale here at £2 + £1.20 p&p

The chapbooks were published by Sampson Low Ltd, a wonderful and historic publisher, and I am very grateful to Alban Low for his support.

Thanks as ever to The Marvellous Smellymaroo for her skill and kindness with design and layout of all the chapbooks.

I was very lucky to be able to use the Museum of Futures to hold events and workshops for Seething Writers, and am grateful to Robin Hutchinson and the Community Brain for allowing me to do so. Thank you!

This is my final post for now for Seethingography. I am handing it over to the lovely Seething folk, Simon Tyrrell and Sharon Zeqiri, who took over the running of Seething Writers earlier this year.

Seething is believing….So long and thanks for all the sardines!

Lucy Furlong

http://www.lucyfurlong.com/

Lucy Furlong is a widely published writer, performer and walking artist. Her poetry map, Amniotic City, was featured in The Guardian and her pamphlet , clew, was published by Hesterglock Press in 2015. Her poetry map, Over the Fields, was published in September 2015, and her latest chapbook, Villiers Path, was published by Sampson Low this year.

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Standing on the lid of Seething Wells

Painting by Simone Kay

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Dear Seething Writers: Future’s So Bright….

Dear All,

I bear glad tidings and sad tidings:

Sad tidings: I am no longer able to give Seething Writers the time and energy that I would like to and have, since its inception in June 2016. This is simply due to other commitments, and there not being a time machine readily available to squeeze everything in…

Glad tidings: I am delighted to say that Sharon Zeqiri and Simon Tyrrell will take over as organisers and facilitators, so that Seething Writers can continue! I am so pleased to hand over to two great people, talented writers in their own right, who have been active members of Seething Writers from the start.

Thank you all for being there and for enthusiastically taking part and trying out all the writing activities; for walking and talking and sharing your work and words- it has been an absolute pleasure- and I hope I will be able to pop in and say hello and come for a pint at some point, and maybe persuade you into another walk sometime!

Lucy X

Next dates for Seething Writers meet ups at the Museum of Futures:

March 20th

April 24th

May 22nd

Something wonderful is about to happen…

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Seething Writers Workshop February 28th 2017

spectacle1

“Seething Writers Go Totally Ekphrastic”

Tuesday 28th February 7.30pm – 9.00 pm at The Museum of Futures, Surbiton. Facebook event HERE.

Please come and join in if you write or would like to write, and would like to meet other like-minded folk! We will talk writing, do writing and then go to the pub.
We will be writing in response to the visual poetry show at the Museum

More info about this forthcoming exhibition and events can be found here:

http://www.theenemiesproject.com/#/futures/

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The Seethingographer, Issue 1, Winter 2016

The Seethingographer Chapbook
The Seethingographer Chapbook

The Seethingographer is a ‘compact and bijou’ anthology of some of the writing and images from the Seethingography blog, written by Seething Writers, or about Seething in some way (which of course, has no boundaries…). With contributions from Sharon Zeqiri, Sinead Keegan, Lisa Davison, Simon Tyrrell, The Historier, Paul Miner, Robin Rutherford and Katharine Scott.

This is an A6, full colour chapbook, published by Sampson Low Ltd, under the brand new Seethingography imprint, where more work by Seething Writers, or about Seething will be published in the future.

The chapbook was launched on Thursday December 1st, as part of the fantastic Collect Connect retrospective exhibition currently on at Kensington and Chelsea College.

There will also be a Seethingographer launch at the Seething Writers Make Merry event, which is FREE, and takes place on Monday 5th December at the Museum of Futures in Surbiton, from 7.30pm – 9.30pm. Mulled wine will be served and we will be celebrating a successful six months of Seething Writers meet ups. Everyone is invited to bring a piece of writing or poems to share, with a festive theme if you would like!

More information and facebook event here.

Copies of The Seethingographer will be on sale at the launch for £2 each, or you can buy them via Sampson Low – look under Seething Chapbooks here

Huge thanks to Alban Low of Sampson Low for publishing The Seethingographer, and to all the Seethingers who have come and taken part in Seething Writers meet ups, walks and events, to everyone who has submitted work to this blog.

Special thanks also to Robin Hutchinson and Simon Tyrrell for suggesting I get involved…x

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Seething Town, the place I want to be

That Seething Feline (photo by Lucy Furlong)
That Seething Feline (pic by Lucy Furlong)

Back to the future. It all started in the Museum of the Future. It had been a detective agency once, reminded him of one of the Douglas Adams novels, Dirk Gently Holistic Detective Agency or something like that. The whole area was known as the Wells, somewhere he had passed by many times but he had heard many interesting stories about it and now here he was. He looked up and even the clouds looked a bit different. Definitely something different about the place though he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.

He started walking along the street, noticed a few road cones and a small yard with some hollyhock plants in it, then started walking along the main road near the river. A couple of cyclists went past, it reminded him that there was a big cycle race the following weekend, happened every year and always lots of people watching, some having picnics on the local village green or watching it pass by outside the local pub.

On past the local wine store and the Old waterworks building which was now a gym and student accommodation. He remembered the time the waterworks was still in use and even the slight smell from the old filter beds  and looking around began to imagine what it might have been like back in the day. Now it was a wildlife haven, a few years ago someone had the idea of building floating houses there but  fortunately that had been abandoned. So many stories he had heard about the area, about giants and caves and a mysterious goat-boy, wondering how many of them were true, maybe that was where the detective agency came in ..

He was brought back from his reverie by his friend passing by with his large but amiable husky type dog, he lived just round the corner and they chatted for a while, walking past the car showroom and the golf studio . After the man left he walked on towards the gated estate, no dogs allowed in the park there so just as well his friend had left by then he thought. He then noticed a cat was following him, as he approached the private garden, looked like a lovely place with large garden, shared walkway and small pond and fountain in the distance. He played with the cat for a few moments before it wandered back to where it had come from. Remarkable to think that the garden had once been a small reservoir, even Alan Titchmarsh hadn’t managed that big a makeover.

Soon be was passing the park where they held a community sports day every year, and then through the Wells estate on the way back to the Museum. There was definitely something different about this place,whether it was the distinctive appearance, the wild garden with the bee hives, and the back gardens of the houses near the Museum. Maybe it was here that the strange tale he had heard about the little goat boy who lived in a cave underneath the mountain originated, it all began to make a bit of sense.

Finally it was back past the old emporium shop with contented cat inside and back to the Museum

As he met up with his friends in the Young Sheep pub afterwards, he reflected, yes there was magic in Seething Town …

By Mark Badcock

 

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Oh little town of Seething Wells

robinrutherfordwalk

Oh, little town of Seething Wells, how still we see thee lie – Meandering through our own waterworks, we risked being run down, by joggers or commuters we crossed at lights.

Tourists from another world, gazing in awe at blue painted railings, snapping brickwork and each other.  Visitors gathering samples to take back to our craft.

Like schoolboys we searched our pockets for things to drop into a well, took photos of the sun, quenched by filterbeds.
Brave voyagers, we walked amongst the resting places of a thousand souls.  Where were these creatures for whom water had been cleaned and towers built?

We called, yet no one answered, tuned instead to cobbled together tales of northern streets on glowing screens hung on walls where once their ancestors gazed benignly down.  Good grace stayed our hands that longed to knock and wake them up.

Leave them to their slumbers, like Titania’s host, we must away, to pick through the gathered fruits, choosing which to eat and which to store away.

By Robin Rutherford

http://www.robinrutherford.co.uk/

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Seething Writers of the Walking Kind

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So, Seething Writers of the Third Kind, as it was billed on Facebook, became Seething Writers of the Walking Kind… our first foray into what I have been calling Seethingography, and this was it- a walk around Seething Wells for just over an hour. We met at the Museum of Futures and the walk began with a small reading from Phil Smith’s wonderful book ‘On Walking’, followed by the famous Walt Whitman lines:

now voyager

It was great fun, and we were very lucky to be accompanied by Seething experts Simon Tyrrell and Howard Benge who have studied the history of the filter beds and Seething Wells water works, amongst other local history. It will be interesting to see what writing comes out of this psychogeographical exploration of the area.

view from the lambeth waterworks steps
view from the lambeth waterworks steps

The next Seething Writers meeting takes place on Monday August 22nd, from 7.30- 9pm at the Museum of Futures in Surbiton. There is a Facebook Group here or email seethingography@gmail.com to be added to the mailing list.

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The Wordsmiths

Before, there was just sound.


Noise.

Gutteral utterings.

Inside a need

Outside, no form.

 
Then they came

A wandering band of vagabonds

A higgledy piggledy group of artisans

Skilled craftsmen and women all

A cart filled with wondrous tools

Cases packed with abundance

Dragged with joy from settlement to settlement

Infectious energy and smiles

Captivating hearts and faces

 
Their arrival a source of excitement

Their purpose as yet unknown

They stop and unpack their wonders

 
They are the Wordsmiths

 
An ancient band of creators

Capturing the sounds and making real

 
Once established they sit and wait

Slowly people come to forward

Sit, eyes captivated by what they see

Silence speaks volumes

 
A Wordsmith steps forward and points

The ‘tree’ is big with heavy boughs.

He points to one of the children and back

Slowly the child realises and makes the noise

 
The Wordsmiths scream with joy

Repeat the sound until it is fixed and set

Others join in chorus loud

 
With one gesture silence falls again

The Wordsmiths set to work

Tools blur, materials carved, sewn,

Forges lit, bellows strained

 
Effort precedes the emergence of

The word

TREE

Made real

There in front of them

A sound now physical and fixed

TREE

 
From their cart they take a case

Words tumble from it to the floor

Previous language captured

Now shared, passed, owned.

 
As dawn come up an empty space

Dents in the grass where once was

And

TREE

writ large

 
An elder turns to the assembled

“They have gone.”

Nods of understanding

 
Before, there was just sound.

Noise.

Gutteral utterings.

Inside a need to communicate

Outside no form.

 
Then they came

A wandering band of vagabonds

A higgledy piggledy group of artisans

Skilled craftsmen and women all

A cart filled with wondrous tools

Cases packed with abundance

Dragged with joy from settlement to settlement

Infectious energy and smiles


Captivating hearts and faces



Robin Hutchinson

http://spiritofseething.blogspot.co.uk/

What Begins and Ends with Water -or- June, 2015

1st

a municipal tanker truck’s hose

douses flower baskets

hanging from high street lamp posts,

the excess pouring onto pavement,

channeled along cracks and seams,

pooling in the most deeply damaged places;

in the morning, on the way to work,

stepping over these




13th

milling around outside the venue

under a tarnished sky

between the ceremony and reception,

sporadic droplets and soured light

harry the guests and photographer

but have no affect on the smiles

of the groom or bride




16th

before, during, and after

the heart attack, his shower head

fulfills its function, water delivered

through a constellation of holes

as always, rinsing him upright,

doubled over, collapsed,

the flow still cleansing, washing,

then washing away




30th

easel poised on Kingston Bridge

as the day ends, face to the Thames,

back turned on traffic, a painter

wielding canvas, brushes, and palette

like fly paper, trying to catch,

intact, what never ceases,

reaching for everything

that’s slipping beneath him

David Russamano

https://davidrussomano.wordpress.com/