Hard To Reach

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The Salt-Makers

She'd never thought of salt as art. She'd never thought about salt at all, to be fair, other than dropping some in with the pasta, or shaking it over chips. But there was something in the making of it – the crystals sharp against her fingertips, the sparkle on her tongue. She'd never thought of salt as a way of getting somewhere – from her three bed semi by the community centre to here: glass and lights, flowers and music, right in the middle of town, and all of them – the salt-makers – with a place at the table.
 

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Being Creative

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The Non-Engagers

They live at the edges of our vision; vanish when we turn to look. Though we are diligent in our searching and meticulous in our research, they keep slipping into the shadows. We are not who you think we are, one told me once; I asked him, politely, to explain, but he would not.

It is rumoured that the taxi drivers might know how to find them, the hairdressers too. So we are heading for the lay-bys, the train stations, the nightclubs, and all those glass-fronted shops full of mirrors and blades.
 

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Participants as a Gift

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Community centre

The walls are lined with drawings of the queen – happy, sad, stern, preoccupied, cross. Everyone who sits at the lunch-tables remembers last weekend’s procession – 700 people in the pouring rain, the horse-drawn carriage, all those flags, and the hall decked out in red and blue and white. Down a short corridor, the office space is tiny, cramped with desks and chairs, sink and cupboards, shelves and boxes. And these women, with their quick smiles and steady commitment; their passion for this place and everything it could be; their willingness to look closer and be surprised.
 

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Winterdoors Ladies

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We'd rather

We don't want shock and awe – we want something we know, but haven't yet seen. We don't want high-falutin – we'd rather something closer to the same ground we stand on each day. Don't tell us what you think we need to hear – give us something that will reach out and touch our electric hearts.

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Creative Revolution

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Cool

She is seven years old, sitting on a chair made from a reclaimed pallet, lost in her own thoughts.
    ‘Are you OK?’ he asks. ‘Do you like this place?’
    She looks up, at him, and then around at the curved wooden walls, the cupboards made from driftwood, the brass logburner, the makeshift kitchen. She nods and says she does like it, yes, but it is not for her.
    ‘Not for you?’
    ‘It's not for poor people.’
    He doesn't know what to say and so he asks, ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘It's cool,’ she says. ‘Cool places aren't for poor people.’

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Adventure

They won't use the gate, even when it's open. They jump the wall, drop down onto bent knees and set off running. If there is something to kick, they'll kick it. If there is something to break, they'll break it.
    ‘What's that then?’ They ask the man standing by the wooden egg.
    ‘An egg.’
    They kick it. And then they reach out to stroke its silvered wood, chevron-slatted, curved.
    ‘How do you bend wood?’

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Community

community-engagement
community-consultation
community-participation
community-voice
community-involvement
community-opinion

If you say a word too many times, it can start to pale; lose its edges; sound wrong inside of your mouth.

for the community
by the community
with the community
from the community

It can buckle under the weight of your attention, shedding its nuances to keep itself strong.

community-led
community-driven
community-focused

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The Listeners

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