Restival in review
Restival unfurled its banner in March. Not with the bedlam of protests or marches but with the gentle, defiant act of rest. POW Thanet's Restival was a testament, a whispered rebellion against the relentless march of time and expectations. In a world that prizes hustle over health, we posed a radical question: What if true power lies in pause?
We began at Selina Hotel, the hotel version of that friend who casually drops into conversation at a dinner party that they're training to be a shaman or have started making their own breast milk ice cream. You know, effortlessly quirky, but with just the right amount of edge to make you go, "I want to be part of whatever is going on here."
Now, enter the Profanity Embroidery Group – a gang so fantastically bonkers and brilliantly talented - with their stitched pillows. These aren't your garden-variety "Home Sweet Home" pillows. Oh no. We're talking about pillows that pervert.
This is the scene where we decided to unfurl our banner of chill. It was a declaration of our intent to take a bloody break.
The air was thick with a sense of mischief, and why not? In a world teetering on the brink of perpetual burnout, where being busy is worn like a badge of honour, we chose to rebel with laughter, rest, and a healthy dose of irreverence. This was our harbinger, our beautifully embroidered, swear-word-laden flag to the winds of change, signalling the restful rebellion to come. And honestly, if that's not the most fabulous way to start a revolution, I don't know what is.
The same night across Thanet Kavel Rafferty, part diplomat, part curator-extraordinaire, transformed the whole area into a bona fide art crawl where every gallery door is a portal to 'restful' art. It's like yoga for the eyes. So, as you wandered from one space to the next, each show was a reminder that sometimes, the most revolutionary act is to simply stop and stare at something beautiful.
Oh, International Women's Day in Thanet! The kind of day when you wake up with the tang of the North Sea already kissing your lips, promising a day of briny adventures and feminist capers. It's like Mother Nature is in on the act. The day kicked off with the kind of youthful exuberance that makes you want to bottle it up and sell it on eBay with the swimmers at Walpole Bay. Further inland, young minds are engaging, challenging, and reshaping the world at our Inspiring Women Schools Exhibition.. As the day stretched lazily into afternoon, Turner Contemporary became less an art gallery and more a temple of tranquillity. Shala Yoga unfurled its mats and we watched you wash away another layer of the world's wearying noise, leaving nothing but a profound hush.
But the apogee of the day wasn't the Turner sunset No, it was the electric crackle that filled the air as Tracey Emin and Katy Hessel took to the stage. Tracey, with her raw, unfiltered genius, wielding her words like a sword and facing down the world with a defiant glare that said, "I am woman, hear me roar, and if you don't like it, you can fuck off."
The dialogue between Emin and Hessel was a manifesto that left us all a little breathless and a lot inspired. The echo of empowering words in our ears, and the unshakeable conviction that, when women come together, there's nothing on this earth or beyond it that can hold us back. Not just on International Women's Day, but every damn day.
International Women's Boxing Day(?), we had Music and spirituality intertwined at St Luke's Church, where Mantawoman and Meg Bird, alongside Institute Collective, crafted an evening of ethereal melodies. The following Sunday, the Powell Cotton Museum became a canvas for the heartfelt narratives of mothers and their kin, a testament to the enduring strength and tenderness of women.
As the weekdays unfolded, our lives resumed their familiar rhythm, a reminder of the roles we juggle and the lives we nurture. Yet, the Restival's spirit lingered.
The weekend following International Women's Day, Thanet became a masterpiece of accessibility and inclusivity. The art trail morphed into an array of shared experiences, the kind where every 'ooh' and 'aah' over a piece of art was a thread weaving us closer together.
But, it was the digital day that truly cranked the dial up to 11 on the amp of connectivity. This was the day when the universal language of rest and resilience was beamed across the ether, reaching out to clasp hands with souls from every corner of the globe.
In the midst of this digital day, Tracey Emin – yes, our Trace, artist extraordinaire and unapologetic speaker of truths – drew over 900 individuals, each from their own nook of the universe, leaning into their screens.
And then, in the thick of this digital embrace, a question cut through the calm, a moment so beautifully ironic that it could only come from a bloke. Bless his cotton socks, he piped up with a query during the Fair Play Method talk about sharing domestic roles : "What's in this for me?" It was the kind of question that reminds you why we still need feminists!
It was a day that proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that even when we're apart, we're never truly alone. In our rest, in our resilience, we find our most profound connection.
And to the final weekend, POW in the Park! An expanse of Ramsgate greenery transformed into a playground of empowerment and empathy, where every blade of grass seemed to whisper, "Welcome, warrior. Rest your weary feet and refill your soul." In one corner, you had Manspace, a sanctuary where men can gather to discuss the nitty-gritty of feelings, fears, and the fight for a kinder, more inclusive world. And then, oh then, there was Kick Up A Fuss – a performance so charged with emotion, a declaration, a collective cry from the hearts of women who've lived, loved, and battled through decades. With every move, they seemed to shout, "fuck agism," and then, in perfect juxtaposition, it was the kid's rave!
The finale at the Sarah Thorne Theatre – let me tell you, it was a lesbionic treat and a downright festival of the fantastically female. We had a song about Thanet dog shit and, more than once, a reference to fingering.
So, as we stepped out into the night, the echoes of laughter still ringing in our ears, it was with the knowledge that while the festival might have reached its end, POW Thanet would continue in the heart of all the women we reached this March. And really, could there be a more fitting climax than that?
I'll leave you with a quote from someone who attended the festival.
“This past month I have put the world to rights with strangers, danced and admired outsider art at the Selina Hotel, wept ugly tears at TKE Studios’ We Do Not Sleep exhibition, laughed with
women as we messed with screen printing paints to make eye masks, laid on the floor under a cloak of soft yellow light as the music of Meg Bird and Mantawoman swept over and transformed me, I have twisted corn and paper into something beautiful on Mother’s Day, foraged salad and crafted in the park, and been held, physically and emotionally by women. The Power of Women, the strength of women, in connection, creativity, and love. And when we are given the space to celebrate these things in rest. we shine.”
