The Stolen
Orange
An exhibition of painters, sculptors, makers and writers celebrating the work of Mersey poet Brian Patten
When I went out I stole an orange
I kept it in my pocket
It felt like a warm planet
Everywhere I went smelt of oranges
Whenever I got into an awkward situation
I’d take out the orange and smell it
And immediately on even dead branches I saw
The lovely and fierce orange blossom
That smells so much of joy
When I went out I stole an orange
It was a safeguard against imagining
There was nothing bright or special in the worldBrian Patten
The Stolen Orange
Once a year, I plan to clear out my studio. Strip it bare. Hand it over. For one month, it will stop being a place I work and become a space to support and celebrate the creative scene — here in Brighton, and further afield.
This is the first time. And we’re starting loud.
The Stolen Orange brings together a multitude of painters, sculptors, writers, poets. Makers of all stripes responding to Brian Patten’s poem of the same name. It’s long been a favourite of ours: a strange, beautiful insistence on joy — the kind that’s actively achievable through the quietest of actions. A small defiance.
The premise of which feels particularly relevant right now.
This show was co-conspired with Hal Maughan and Anthony de Brissac — two fellow artists and collaborators who, like me, are done with waiting for the right moment. We pulled this together in a time of rupture, with a belief that joy isn’t optional. It’s necessary.
Joy as an act of resistance. As friction. As a way to keep going — with each other, and for each other.
This is, overwhelmingly, a show about the all-too-human heart, head and hand and the wisdom of keeping oranges in all our pockets.
Sarah Shaw
