Bringing my show back to Brighton


So, my show is coming home, right to where it was created. I’ll be performing Moments of Weightlessness on Tuesday 24th May in the Brighton Dome Studio Theatre, where we first tried it in front of some invited audience members. That first creative burst was an incredible period for me. It began at The Spire, a creation space where I took my piano, drew pictures, wrote text, played tennis against the strings, played with toys, swung things, recorded myself talking to the empty church. In only a couple of days, the show’s shape was mostly in place. Then the hard work of developing and polishing it started, with a team of brilliant creative experts around me (including Lou Cope, Becca Ellson, Janine Fletcher & Chris Umney) to help. The showing at the Dome told us we’d created something which was moving and which had exciting potential.

I’ve been touring the show since November 2015 and have found it so rewarding to do it lots of times. Not only has it really become part of me, but it’s been so nice to play to different places. I grew up in Newcastle and I really noticed how the Northerners laughed more! The fulfillment of people laughing and crying while I perform is quite addictive, so I’m hoping my home crowd of Brighton will beat them all. I had a lot of really strong responses from audiences (listen here).  One of the sweetest comments was from an 8-yr-old girl in Reading, who said “the way Sarah plays the piano… it’s a miracle!”.

I also had several really deep chats with old friends who found the show really chimed with their motherhood experiences.  One sent me this great poem by a Geordie lady.

Small Beauties

Let the milk boil over,
The half-filled tins of baked beans sit idle on the table,
Children scribble on the walls with crayons,
Clothes heap in riotous mountains.

I am reading a book.

Let the bells ring, bills lie unopened,
Doors slam over then bash shut, letters unwritten,
Plants unwatered, bread gets as hard as a rock.

I am thinking about the moon.

Let the bank get nasty, the grass grow high,
Children decorate themselves with lipstick,
Build houses within houses in every room,
Pee on the floor, pull doll’s heads off.

I am looking for a door.

Oh come here you small beauties,
Together we will run across the town moor
With waving fingers, running for our lives.

You are too small, and too beautiful to ignore.

Julia Darling (1956-2005), lived in Newcastle for most of her adult life

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