Barnaby Callaby

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quick a quick quick quick quick quick

a fast man stole all my things
I didn’t see him but I loved the way he ran 

Not writing is not enough. 

Naked, take to the street and cut down everything you see but other people. Take everything away. Never see it again. Know it cannot be seen.

Trauma is not the same. You will never suffer again or see the thing you hate.

Draw pictures your mind isn’t wrong. What you see is a fiction and it will happen until it doesn’t. You will forget. 

This is a special time, wear nothing and cry. Learn the colour of your tears and imagine the purity in your cutting, your taking away.   

Not writing is not enough. Let something be made 1.

Something.

When you’re in a dull and necessary pain it helps to imagine it as beautiful a beautiful pain a beautiful little pain that looks beautiful and makes people happy a pain so beautiful it looks like unhappiness a word so beautiful it’s the opposite of happiness and garish and bright and yellow and ugly and big it helps to image it small and black and beautiful and personal to so so many many beautiful people.

aND i FELT SURE IF THOSE WORDS DID NOT EXIST YOU WOULD NOT FIND ANOTHER WAY TO HURT ME THE WAY YOU DID. aND SO i HATE THOSE WORDS. i HATE THOSE FUCKING WORDS HOW PERFECT THEY ALL WERE. hOW PEREFECT THEY ALL FELT.

yOU’RE SO SMART. sUCCESFUL suc·cess·ful  

Stirred, spurred,
Inspired by pain, surreal
and Gertrude Fucking Stein
I’m ready for a new phase phase phase phase phase phase face face face face face face (rec.)

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‘The paper’s so dry’: I cry.
‘The word is so wet’.
I imagine you
In the moment they met.

The man of the house got in at midnight
And dreamt the pipes that didn’t exist
And he sang sheet music from his bed.
But he got it wrong,
To the blind God that sees all,
The beauty he couldn’t read,
God that sees all, wrong.
His wife wore nothing much that night and turned her Blackberry face down.
Wonderful- she controlled the light and the heat of the bed.
I wasn’t moved by the music,
It just came to me.
And alone I loved other people for their gift of light.

Pages in spindles made of card

Tick like a movie reel at the start

before flapping on

longingly to be the loneliest

the best and

the end

I wrote a film about a name

In the phonebook - Lost in Great Company.

Such a heavy work

That when the covers kissed

It spread and formed a vector

crisper paper wouldn’t form

Towards the waterfall

You knock on the stubbornness of wood.

Thump the paper gills like rapids

Sluice the logs of resin,

The animals of hide.

Action the hands and rudder

birds singing for the clock.

In a journey of emergency;

Fly the pithy block.

There’s no touch in my work

I know I’m being secretive at the moment but here’s an interview where I discuss the work I’m doing for the West Yorkshire Playhouse:

Four o’clock tea break with….

Barnaby Callaby – Artist, Poet and Contributor to ‘A Leeds Seen’


Please describe yourself in two sentences.

Nihilism is optimism: being given two choices but not having to choose. I believe in nothing but find value in everything.


What was your first creative project in Leeds?

I established an online radio station in 2006 with a special interest in independent music. I spent a lot of time when I was younger meeting local artists and collaborating with venues in Leeds to hold showcases and events.


Tell us about the piece of work you’re most proud of

I have an on-going visual project called ‘Spectrum’ which challenges audiences to lift a specific colour from seven different monochrome films. I’m pleased with how self-contained the experiment feels, it provides a personal exploration in synaesthesia that feels not only well measured but complete.


While making your piece for Transform have you discovered anything new about the city?

Working with the photographers heightened my awareness of journeys across areas of Leeds and particularly the shapes these movements were casting. The images of people commuting into Leeds and retracing their steps in the market made me consider moments as points on a graph. Inspired somewhat by the design of the Transform festival map there’s a pattern-orientated theme to my work.


Quick fire questions:

Yorkshire Tea or Kirkstall Pale Ale?

Yorkshire Gold.

City or Dales?

City.


Yorkshire pudding - sweet or savoury?

Savoury.


Headrow or Briggate?

Briggate.


How do you spend your 4 O’Clock tea break?

I don’t have a daily routine but make a daily excuse for a chocolate break.

What was your first job?

I washed dishes in Brewery Wharf.

If you could pick one performer or artist to play you, who would it be?

Anyone, there’s no such thing as a bad impression.


What says My Leeds My City to you?

Leeds is a balanced place; it’s not too or too little of anything. In some ways it’s the perfect place for an artist as it won’t particularly limit or force a person in a certain direction. My Leeds is a solid place, somewhere both easy and vital - a place that will force you up early with a sweet cup of tea.