Caribous, Canada and the Meaning of Life

Following Brighton Writer Squad‘s visit to Brighton Museum, the young writers were asked to write a piece in response to an object (and another piece in response to a costume).

Jad Stacey (13) wrote a response to the caribou fur in the World Stories: Young Voices Gallery,

There was a Caribou. If you don’t know what a Caribou is, its effectively a Reindeer, but from North America. One day, as the Caribou cariboued across the tundra, a thought came into its head. Now, Caribou’s aren’t really known for being the most intelligent of animals, so this was quite a rare occurrence, especially because of what it was thinking. It was thinking, “What is the meaning of life?” Now, that is quite a question. A question that has been asked quite a bit, with many different answers. But all these philosophers, poets and Pythons in the past had been biased or already had expectations or further still, were being silly. But this Caribou, this furry Canadian reindeer had a far clearer perspective on the matter. But it didn’t have the foggiest idea where to start. Should the it start with the things in its life that it enjoys? Or the things that it wishes to do in life? Or further still should it start with the things that great people do? Then it realised that it was a Caribou, didn’t know about any great people and had no real goals in life.

It then realised that the reason why it had no goals in life was because it had achieved them all. It had lived a long life (for a Caribou), had continued its bloodline and had figured out how life began (you don’t want to know that, its boring). So was that it, achieving your goals? Was that the meaning of life? It was a bit broad and vague but it seemed to fit it so much. Putting “achieving your goals” to another side for know, The Caribou mentally flicked through the other options. To find love? Perhaps, but some creatures feel no need for love. To be happy seemed far too close to achieve your goals and most of its ideas branched onto the “be happy, achieve your goals, be good” train of thought. So maybe that is it? Love peace and happiness? And so The Caribou thought long and hard for many days and nights and at the end of this long, hard thought it came to the answer, Upon discovering the meaning of life it achieved the meaning and was happy.
Then a madman with a shotgun ran at it and shot it, dead.

                                                                     The End.

Revenge

Following Brighton Writer Squad‘s visit to Brighton Museum, the young writers were asked to write a piece in response to an object (and another piece in response to a costume).

Satsang Barnett (15) wrote a response to the rag football in the World Stories: Young Voices Gallery,

I hate moving but sometimes you just have to make a new start. 24 Old Kent Road, small house but I like it though, I find it cosy, that was my new address, and after a 3 hour drive I finally arrived, at last, late at night. This time I’m going to sort myself out, a new beginning. But, little did I know, what living here would bring. The drive took a lot of energy out of me, so I just dumped my boxes of belongs in the hall and went to bed, excited about starting my new job tomorrow.

Rag Football

I hit the alarm on my phone, drag myself out of bed, climbing over boxes so I can reach the kettle, time for a wake up shot, bending down to check out the contents of the fridge (not expecting to find much). But what I found there was  a shock, I stumbled back in surprise. A hideous mass of what seemed like clothes on the bottom shelf, about the size of a small football. It seemed to be staring me in the face. I’m weary of touching it as it’s covered in what looks like animal remains. I reach in and pull out the tightly bound ball of encrusted fabric, the smell hits me, I fought back the urge to gag and I quickly threw it in the bin. I sit on a chair for a while trying to recover and curse as I spot the time. I was going to be late for work, on the first day too! I dashed out and thought nothing more of that grotesque ball sitting in my bin.

After a long embarrassing day of the boss warning me not to be late again, I unpacked, ate and went to bed. Later that night, deep in my dreams, I was woken by an over whelming need to look down at my feet, there in the dim light of the moon shining on the sheets in front of me, amongst  the sheets, was… the ball. I was paralyzed with fear.

How the ***** did this ball of horror get on my bed? I thought. The ball sat there. It looked alive, pulsating. My body was tense. Then all of a sudden started to feel like I was falling, this strange feeling made me close my eyes. Then I was falling, falling down through the floor into the earth below, darkness swarmed out to meet me then spat me out. I opened my eyes and it was broad daylight. I looked down and to my astonishment I was floating, very high indeed. Beneath me a busy football stadium was cheering and chanting. Everything seemed normal apart from it was clear they could not see me.

The audience’s fashion seemed to be at least a couple of years old. This must be some sort of flashback, I thought to myself. Suddenly, a player scored a goal and half the crowd went wild cheering, screaming with joy. The referee an angry strange man blew his whistle declaring that the goal didn’t count. The crowd stopped and went silent. A couple minutes later the game ended and the team that attempted to score earlier lost. Half the audience didn’t like this one bit.

A commotion was starting to build. Crowd members started climbing over the fence into the pitch. The guards were pushing them back but more and more of them were appearing. Someone threw a punch and ***** broke loose. The football match suddenly turned into a miniature war. A small group of the losing side went after the referee since it was obvious they thought it was his fault. The poor man tried to make a getaway, but they surrounded him. He was brutally murdered before my eyes. Then the world seemed to fade, my vision started fading… the last thing I saw was the murders wrapping the referee’s clothes into a …familiar looking… ‘ball’.

Revenge – photo of Satsang looking at rag football that inspired it

World Stories: Young Voices – My Experience, Becky

Meet the young people who have been involved in developing the new World Stories: Young Voices Gallery which opens at Brighton Museum and Art gallery on 23 June 2012.

Q. Who are you and how did you get involved?

A. My name is Becky and I’m 20. I am a student studying Art History at Sussex University. I have an interest in museum work, particularly the curatorial aspect. I became involved in the project through volunteering with the Museum Collective and the National Steering Group for Stories of the World.

Becky (bottom row 3rd from left) and the Museum Collective helped plan and run an event for White Night

Q. What did you do?

A. I have helped coordinate the Museum Collective, a youth advisory panel for Brighton Museum. As a member of the group I have had a say in many aspects of the new gallery from the design to marketing and interactives.

I have attended project team meetings with members of museum staff. I have also learned about audio description techniques and will be writing and recording my own description of an outfit from Burma for the gallery. I have also represented Brighton Museum on the National Steering Group to share the work young people have been contributing to the Museum. As part of this I helped write a manifesto for museums nationally to encourage them to involve young people, something I believe is incredibly important.

Q. What has been the most important thing you have learned during this project? 

A. I have learnt that it is important to include young people in museums by making the collections accessible to everyone not just young people who already attend museums regularly.

Q. What new skills do you feel that you have developed?

A. I have developed my organisational skills, learnt new skills for interviews, audio description and how to lead a workshop.

Q. What did you enjoy the most?

A. It has been fantastic to volunteer in the museum and feel like my opinions have been listened to and acted upon. I have gained valuable experience and had the opportunity to work alongside museum staff which I feel has prepared me for working life after my degree.