There’s always a sense that sorcery is at play at Words at the Woodfield. There is something mystic about walking under cover of darkness along avenues of oak and horse chestnut to a little oasis of light and love filled brick. The smell of home cooking to guide the way. Whilst there, you are whisked away into a world of wonder and words for a while. Always leaving with a full belly, happier heart and a fresh set of eyes with a different perspective on life.
There’s a magical place named the Woodfield,
Where poets share stories and heal,
Mohah, Jan and Fin will welcome you in,
With a whole lot of love and a meal!
Why did you start the poetry night?
Janet Baker, founder - The very first one was 10th August 2022. Working with Seb, the first MC, and my daughter, we built it and they came.
The date was difficult. It was the day after the man I loved died from leukaemia. Bizarrely, it gave me something to focus on. I even read out the thing I had written about one of our last days together. Talk about writing therapy! I did rather fall apart afterwards, but the act of holding it together can sometimes remind you of your strengths - as well as the power of letting go when you need to. And it was a beautiful summers evening.
The Words night is one of the things I’m most proud of having grown at the Woodfield. It’s often the only night that people get to see a bit more of the ME behind the role of manager, as I don’t seem to be capable of writing anything that isn’t right from my heart, even if it’s funny. And on those nights I can let down my guard a little, and still feel safe doing so. And if I can be open there, so can everyone.
Fintan Dineen - current host - Words at the Woodfield was already a moving vehicle by the time myself and chef extraordinaire / co-host Mohah jumped aboard in early 2024. I had been fantasising at the turn of that year about running a poetry night. .
I envisioned a night whereby people from absolutely all walks of life could come and share what's on their minds and hearts in the form of poetry and spoken word. Post-Covid, I found that there was a real need to find a community of likeminded people who felt, on some level, tuned into the tectonic transitions we’re currently undergoing as a society, be it socially, culturally, ecologically or personally - I wanted to connect with people on that level and share work in that spirit of transition.
With that intention in the ether, I headed along to the Woodfield on one full moon alongside Mohah and a synchronistic opportunity to take the reins presented itself.
Be careful what you wish for guys, it might just happen.
How would you describe the vibe of your nights?
JB: These Words at the Woodfield have grown. Not always in number, as we’ve had a few smallish ones (which are still wonderful) but in their power. And now, three years and a much more regular appearance later, they are very much a part of the calendar. And what a route they’ve had to get here. Always filled with humour, drama, love and honesty, Newbies and practiced writers together, those that look comfortable and the nervous clutchers of notebook or phone. I love them all. It brings all the battered souls together in a safe and beautiful space where everyone feels that that can be part of the event. And people come to be an audience too, and that make it really special. Not waiting their turn, but invested in everyone’s offerings. And then there’s the food - it may not seem much, but a bowl of something delicious (Mohah is an unbelievable cook, and feeds with love), when you’re in the middle of a field, for only a fiver, makes it a perfect evening.
FD: I’m obviously biased but there’s a vibe at the Woodfield that is pretty unique. People are often taken aback by how inviting, warm and no frills it all is.
The night itself is a wholesome, intimate, anti-competitive, inclusive, eccentric, fringey collection of poets from all different backgrounds. It’s a great immersive space for deep listening, everyone is welcome.
The Woodfield is a charity run community arts centre, a rare ecosystem where all profits made go back into the running of the building. Pure art for hearts sake. It is a hidden gem surrounded by the trees of Tooting Common. Our proximity to nature gives the Woodfield an almost pastoral feel, scarcely encountered in the inner city. It can be quite a journey getting here, and some folk do get lost in the woods, however, if you persist you’ll find a glowy hut in a blanket of wintery darkness. p.s. we’re easier to find in summer.
Poets Kane and Mohah co-host & chef. Image copyright: Tim Foley: @writespeakrecover
What do you love most about the poetry scene?
FD: A poetry friend dubbed it ‘speedfriending’ - you get to meet and know people pretty quickly. There’s a vulnerability to sharing something on a mic alone that I think we are in need of right now. It’s a simple but sacred age old ritual. People want to increasingly connect with ‘realer things’ in an age of dehumanising forces. Poetry can be a magical way of doing that. I also love how inexpensive the scene is. As a playwright who is always seeking funding, the poetry scene allows me to share my work in a more immediate way.
JB: The poetry ‘scene’ is a quirky, beautiful, and varied. I’ve been to nights where standing out as a middle aged white woman has been hilarious and offering words about the challenges of a menopausal bladder while bouncing on a trampoline, have made me feel really welcomed. They are all occasions where, telling your own story, and not pretending to be anything other than yourself, are always the most successful. It’s not about the angst, but the truth. The best performers are always the ones that are open - even if its upsetting / niche / funny / or random. We all have our preferences and tastes, but honesty wins every time for me.
At the end of December I left as manager of the Woodfield after over six years, and it was so hard to do so… But I’ll never leave the Words nights. It’s in the very heart of what I take forward to other spaces I now run. There has been such love and kindness and support in the evenings. Share a safe and welcoming space - and most people will share right back.
Please may you both share a poem?
From Fintan Dineen
Sky is the Limit
One summer afternoon, a bluebottle fly
banged its head
against a bluebottle sky.
Caught, on the wrong side of the window,
the fly complained about
the injustice of it all:
“If only!” it cried,
“If only, I could get to the other side
of this clear blue wall.”
Yet when the window was opened,
the fly did not fly,
but instead, the fly froze
to the spot.
Encouraged loudly
with a broom
big jeers
from the room,
“Go on fly, fly!”
but the fly
did not move.
So a chill came in,
and the window was shut
but with renewed vigour
the buzzing started up!
Louder, crankier,
“If only” it cried,
“If only, I could get to the other side
of this clear blue wall!”
So once again, the window was opened,
this time wider,
this time gaping,
“Go on fly! Fly!”
But this fly did not move -
No.
It clung to the glass ceiling
of what it knew.
JB: The poem that sums up me is usually the latest one. I write as a reaction to a moment, a feeling or an event. I can often be found scribbling away in my notebook about half an hour before the W@tW starts. Something will have sparked some words, and off I go. So I give you the one I wrote for this October Words.
Unstable Ground
The layers of our foundation
Are formed, brick by brick by brick
by the words and actions of the builders
of our younger selves.
This underground shows itself as faulty the more we try to make our lives upon it.
I am built on unstable ground.
The surface that I rise from has, hiding in its depths, sharp stones, odd shaped boulders and those tricky gaping holes.
And I cannot see them.
But I know I am built on unstable ground.
So when I stand or walk forward, my feet are feeling and finding the spaces and the crags, the rocks that cut and the troubled rubble.
While I smile and chat and laugh.
These feet of mine seek
out the land
on which I stand
to try to keep me upright.
I am built on unstable ground.
And my feet are bruised and tired and hide inside my many shoes
so that you don’t see
and that you can’t tell that
I am built on unstable ground.
So when you meet those whose shoes shine,
it may be that their many pairs
make you unaware
of the broken nails and clenched toes.
You cannot know how a heel makes them feel, or that a shoe is their glue.
For many of us are built on unstable ground.
Useful links
Janet Baker on Instagram
Fintan Dineen on Instagram
Woodfield Pavillion on Instagram and website
Mic Nightlife is a photography, poetry and storytelling series celebrating the places people share words. Please invite us to your night!
We're constantly on the look out for new artists, creatives and initiatives to feature in TheNeverZine - so if you are, or know someone who is going their own way and doing their own thing on their own terms and would be a good fit to feature please smash that button below and get in contact. By talking to each other, and sharing our journeys, ideas and insights on creativity, art, mental health and resilience we can all create, share and thrive together. Nice thought that.
PS - Don't forget to subscribe below for more content from TheNeverPress 👇