Hello, lets work together
What wide sea: Boats, stories and communities.
I was really pleased to bring the first iteration of a project I have been thinking about for a while to Stretford Town Centre as part of The Unofficial Stretford Museum a few weekends back. What wide Sea brought me here? is part workshop, part social history gathering and part installation. As a creative way of fighting back against the anti-small boats narrative which is so prevalent in the media, I wanted to take that image and share the positive experience of the journeys we take to the places we end up calling home, either permanently or temporarily. We made small paper boats with people, asked them to share their stories and displayed them to show the diversity of experience that makes up a place. This was a great first run at something I want to go back to again with a wider group of people and connect with asylum or refugee support charities who may be interested in developing this work further. Thank you so much to all the people who attended and shared their stories- your generosity is what made this such a pleasure.
The Bury Poems 5: Robert Peel Statue
Robert Peel Statue
Robert,
Take my hand,
Step down from that cold stone,
And walk with me a while.
Take off those heavy boots,
Rooted deep in a past
And step along these
New wet streets in another pair of shoes
With other worn feet.
What would you say?
About how different things are,
How much has changed.
And what you believed in way back when,
You left this place
And set off to rule the world.
Perhaps leaving here made you?
And returning, feels a little like shame
As the place has become something you no longer understand.
Prime Minister, and leader.
Freed the children from the factories
You saw the problems, and had to act,
So created the police,
With the principle of consent.
“Peelian”- you, as adjective, and loaded with meaning.
Did you imagine then,
that in other times,
And places
Those bobbies on the beat,
Would be feared,
Or reviled,
And sometimes hated?
Or that something that started here
Would,
In a place not a million miles away
Became a knee on a neck,
And death,
And death and,
A breath
Denied?
Would that stern look crack?
And a reasonable voice ask
“Why?”
and
“What is to be done?”
And
“When?”
The faces are looking to you and yours,
As you walk back to that plinth,
Deep in thought.
Sit a while longer and wait,
Perhaps don’t ascend back into your historic place
But leave it empty
For now.
Statues everywhere are coming down.
Listen and you can hear the sound.
It is change, and it is loud.
The Bury Poems 4: Bury Art Museum
I worked here for a long time, left to become a teacher and have been back to read poems, show work and lead workshops.
Bury Art Museum and Library
Stop for a moment and look at the marvel.
The stunning,
And monumental.
Stone chiseled,
Gods and heroes, look down
And ponder,
What it means to be.
To be art
Or thought of that way.
Don’t be overwhelmed by it
It was built for you!
And although,
You won’t see the words anywhere on the stone
at the right time and in the right light,
Bright like neon,
It says
“Welcome, dreamers”
You’ll see them, mounting the steps, and perhaps join them
In wonder,
Of what they will find.
Stored in stacks,
And millions of artifacts,
Are stories.
Great and small, mean and good
And all the above.
Written in books that are free to read,
And objects,
Which when handled,
Are a little like time travel.
Magical.
Pictures and paintings which are portals to dream into,
To lean on and believe in,
When you need something more than food, or work or life.
To unlock that part of you that says
Yes!
Touch the stone,
Stand in front of a painting and let it speak to you,
Read a book that will change everything.
Welcome home,
dreamer.
Billy…a short film about dreaming
My short film, Billy, is currently on show at Bolton Art Gallery and Museum as part of the 2026 Bolton Open. This short film is an animation, a poem and music that I created after seeing an inspiring production of Kes at Bolton Octagon back in 2022- a really fantastic production that has stuck with me. Always been a fan of A Kestrel for a Knave and the film Kes and wondered what happened to Billy Casper after the book? Did he end up down the mine? Did he keep a part of him that loved birds and the countryside alive? My poem dealt with those themes.
I recently found there are some further works but I am not sure if they are sequels or just works in the same universe?
Dreamt of you again Billy Casper.
Free and formless
Sunlight
Caught on the wing
And wondered
Did you make it back up for air?
Did the black weight,
Solid,
Millions of years in the making,
meet you
Face to face
In the hot, tense, darkness
Snuff out the light?
Erase,
Like chalk from a blackboard,
The memory of freedom,
Of flight
Of a languid loop,
Pierced by a golden arrow.
Or did you nestle
A flame in your heart forever?
Take carbon, and somehow
Crush it into a diamond
That only shone for you?
And spotting a high bird
On a bright day,
Remember how feeling felt,
Soft like a feather.
Sharp as a claw.
The Bury Poems 3: The Rock
Image copyright The Frances Frith Collection.
Back in 2021, I was commissioned at part of Bury’s Town of Culture to create a series of poems in responses to the history of the town- I realised recently that although they were performed and displayed at Bury Art Museum, they were never published anywhere so I am going to post all five over the next few weeks. Each one involved walking these places I am familiar with, reconnect with them and then digging deep in the archives to find hidden stories.
The rock
Dark night, full moon
A burning trail across the night sky
A meteorite, big as a house
Slams into ancient Bury.
The Rock.
The druids gathered
Dark night to bright morning
The chants raising to a crescendo as the sun peeks perfectly over the holy stone.
It is summer, the solstice
The Rock.
Tied fast with both hands.
Guilty as charged.
A thief and a drunkard.
Three days, publicly shamed.
Like Prometheus tied.
The Rock.
“The Romans brought it”
“No I heard the Celts”
“There is no rock on the rock, the rock was a road, or a river or something”
But the stories?
Just rumours,
But the tales
They will tell.
Look now – and the story is you.
Every shining glass surface,
Reflects us now.
Who we are.
Our head briefly and awkwardly poised on mannequins before we move on,
Their outstretched hands
welcome us, but don’t know us,
As we pass between,
Buy,
And leave.
Never noticing the path, the river, the road or the route
That brought us here
The foundation that everything was built upon
The Rock.
So when the bags are not too heavy,
Or you have a moment to spare,
Find the gravestones they left.
The stone road,
That will lead you back,
To the heart, the centre
The Rock.
The Bury Poems 2: Market
Back in 2021, I was commissioned at part of Bury’s Town of Culture to create a series of poems in responses to the history of the town- I realised recently that although they were performed and displayed at Bury Art Museum, they were never published anywhere so I am going to post all five over the next few weeks. Each one involved walking these places I am familiar with, reconnect with them and then digging deep in the archives to find hidden stories
David Dixon / Bury Market / CC BY-SA 2.0
Market
Like a seagull descending
An alien ship from space.
This world-famous market,
Is a wonderful place.
You should see it at dawn,
When the crowds haven’t come,
And the traders are moving,
Up with the sun.
With purpose and routine,
They’ve done this before,
Stacked all the bargains,
From ceiling to floor.
Step into the market,
Step into our place,
Soak up the rhythm,
The heartbeat, the pace.
There are comings and goings,
Movement all round,
Take in the sights,
Swim in the sound.
“Two for a pound”
“Receipt’s in the bag”
Park at the counter
For a pint and a fag.
There are regulars, the “lifers”,
Who have seen it all,
Who’ll stay for a chat,
Because it’s more than a stall.
It’s a story, a memory,
A familiar face,
“It’s the people” they’ll tell you,
“That really make this place”.
And from samosa, to cannoli,
To Kielbasa and brie,
The fabric, the gadgets,
There is more here to see.
It’s a centre, a heart,
A reflection of us.
And you are part of it,
When you step off the bus.
Or drive, or walk,
Or come on the tram.
“It might not be the pyramids
But its world-famous man!”
The Bury Poems.
Back in 2021, I was commissioned at part of Bury’s Town of Culture to create a series of poems in responses to the history of the town- I realised recently that although they were performed and displayed at Bury Art Museum, they were never published anywhere so I am going to post all five over the next few weeks. Each one involved walking these places I am familiar with, reconnect with them and then digging deep in the archives to find hidden stories
Here is the first: Kay Gardens
Roll UP Roll UP
Step right this way!
Come and dance in the gardens
Come out and play!
Kay Gardens and the communion of cabs,
In endless procession.
A carousel of cars,
Around this crossroads,
These moments.
These interchanges of stories.
Where past and present collide,
To fight over the future.
Roll UP Roll UP
Step up to the ring!
Jump in with our boxer
If fighting’s your thing!
A tale from the past is calling to you.
With a roar!
For once,
The story goes,
A man fought a bear here and died.
And not too many steps away, in the belly of the museum, in an old dusty box
Are a pair of bear’s feet.
If the tale is to be believed.
Roll UP Roll UP
The circus is in town!
Come all to join us,
Come on down!
Spaces have stories,
That belong to those who tell them.
And if you listen you will hear them
Fighting against the calling of pigeons
the mods said, then the punks said, then the goths said, and the skaters said…
Then and then.
The next hat’s in the ring.
Around and around they go.
Roll UP Roll UP
You won’t believe your eyes
Play for the fun sir
Play for the prize!
Taking centre stage,
Is the momument to Kay,
Whose shuttle changed the world.
But the bronze figure on top is not fame,
It is an angel.
Carrying a barrel-chested bear fighter
Who was bested, broken and beat,
On one final journey
Around and beyond.
While the cabs in reverential black
Bear a silent witness.
All poems © Josef Minta 2021.
Dads+Carers+Kids+ Art= communities of support.
It has been a real pleasure to work with MATCH (Men and Their Children) in St Helens to produce a booklet to support other new dads and carers. Meeting every two weeks at Family Hubs in St Helens we have created art, talked and shared the ups and downs of being a new dad. Making something and having a drop-in activity for the kids was a great structure to allow space and time to share and a part of my practice I will continue to develop. Dads talked about their uncertainty, health worries and concerns about children and partners, and the conflict of wanting to help raise their kids while also working to provide for them. I was really bowled over by the welcome I received and how willing these men were to talk about how they were feeling; good and bad. I never felt that support was there when I was a new dad and it’s really encouraging that these spaces exists and that the men there want to do something to help others; there is hope and positivity there and evidence of people building the communities of support they need around them and welcoming all in. They have produced a helpful and tangible guide for other dads (which will be distributed at schools, hospitals, doctors surgeries and beyond) which might just provide a link for someone struggling to a community who are ready, willing and able to pitch in and support each other. The staff at the Family hubs are fantastic and made us all feel at home and the whole project was made possible by Wonderarts (especailly Emma wh worked with me on every sessions and was a constant source of support and excelletn chat and Danny who did such a great job creating the booklet) supported by the National Lottery Community Fund
If you are interested in starting a group like this, and cleary these is a need for this, or need someone to lead sessions with an existing group, shout out…this dad is ready to help.
200 hundred years of history…in three poems!
It was a real pleasure to have been commisioned by the It Started With a Seed International Storytelling Festival as part of the 2024 Manchester Histories Festival to write a sries of poems in response to the 200 Year annivesary of Manchester Metropolitan Univesity. When I first saw the shout out for this project, I knew it would give me the opportunity to engage with not only the archive history of the university, but also its growth and development alongside Manchester, its current position in the city (spatially and historically) and what the future of its presence in the city might look and feel like. READ ALL THE POEMS HERE
The process of writing involved a combination of archive resarch, visits to the amazing staff at MMU Special Collections (who were so generous and helpful with their time) and a series of site vists and walking tours- one of which I led with a group of fantastic architecture students.
This vast hoistry was almost duanting in its scope so to structure the response, I conceptualised three phases and three poems: Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow. Yestedray was focused on the origns and legacy, Today looked at where the university sits as part of the current make-up of Manchester and Tomorrow as a more speculative view of the possible future.
Finding hidden histories in archives and developing a better understanding of where the univesity came from (aided in a massive way by two fantastic books Many Arts, Many Skills: Origins of Manchester Metropolitan and Manchester Metropolitan University: images of history) and what it became while having time to explore the site on foot and really engage with the pysical space of the campus was really inspirational and helped me write three poems I was really very proud of. This culimated reading all three poems at the launch of the festival in the iconic Central Library– the right words in the right place at the right time; a real dream. It was also amazing to hear and see the responses of the other comissioned artists too- what an amazing range of work looking at the same subject from a multiplicity of angles. I also produced three sculptures inspired by my research; bricks which matched the building of the campus etched on their “spines” with titles of books from the special collections. The poems will be published later this year and there may yet be some more events and opportunities to share. A small fragment of the whole though which I feel captures the essence of the commission.
The solution to the puzzle of the future
Is within you.
Nestled spark to burning ember,
Guiding light to flaming torch,
bringing clarity, showing us the way
Out of the darkness.
Josef Minta 
You must be logged in to post a comment.