Tag: Henry Raby

Stu Freestone: Poet, performer and cheesemonger

YORK spoken-word poet, performer and cheesemonger Stu Freestone will launch his debut poetry collection, The Lights That Blur Between, at The Crescent on March 30.

A co-founder and associate artist of Say Owt, York’s “collective of gobby northern poets” since  2014, he writes in a playful style founded in everyday moments in works that walk the line between between grit and gentleness.

Or as Barmby Moor surrealist comedian Rob Auton puts it: “There’s so much momentum in Stu’s words. The images sprint into your head and your brain is a better place for it.”

Stu Freestone’s poster design for his poem Before The Lights Go Out

 Drawing from family stories, kitchen tables, pub corners and stages across the country, his poetry “celebrates ordinary lives with extraordinary care,” says Stu. “Blending conversational humour with emotional honesty, the writing explores love, loss, resilience, and the quiet lights that carry us through.”

The Lights That Blur Between has been written over more than a decade, shaped on stage and finally brought together “somewhere between a notebook, a pint and a deep breath”.

“The collection explores  the nostalgia of adolescence, relationships and grief, and the ongoing work of processing life, as well as the occasional – and necessary – detours into the comedic themes of condiment addiction, festival trips gone wrong, cheesemonger battle raps and the perils of ‘after work’ drinking,” says Stu, summarising his “honest portrayal of life experiences”.

The artwork for Stu Freestone’s The Lights That Blur Between. The sea, its vastness and restorative powers, feature emotively in his writing

Freestone has performed across the UK, including multiple runs at the Edinburgh Fringe, and was shortlisted for Best Spoken Word Performer at the Saboteur Awards in 2015. He has shared stages with internationally renowned artists such as Shane Koyczan, Hollie McNish, Sage Francis, B. Dolan, Dizrael, and Harry Baker and has recorded live sessions for BBC Introducing and BBC Upload.

Now comes his debut book launch, promising an evening of powerful performance and heartfelt storytelling, including two sets from Stu, one comedic and spoken-word, the other accompanied by a band featuring guitarist (and shoemaker) Simone Focarelli, accordionist Ben Crosthwaite and drummer Joe Douglas.

Plus support slots from York performance poet and political satirist Sarah Armitage and his Grantham pal, emotive singer-songwriter Adam Leeson.

“It’s amazing really,” says Stu, reflecting on the book’s completion. “It’s been a journey since 2012-2013 to now, where I’ve always thought I should have done it before, but the writing wouldn’t be same.

Stu Freestone’s poster for Branches, from his The Lights That Blur Between collection

“I’ve had a lot more experiences to collate into my writing, so there are more meaningful tendencies to what I want to write about: whether nostalgia or re-living that nostalgia, or resilience or getting over grief: things I had not experienced back then. So it’s ‘me on a page’ on 100 pages and it’s nice to have that proof in my hand, in the book, which is very different to having it on my laptop.”

Stu’s poetry differs in print from live performance too. “There’s a massive contrast because I was very aware of how to transpose it to the page, and where it would need an edit to a make it more book-friendly,” he says.

“There are pieces that have evolved for the page or been written expressly for the page. There is therapy here, from both the reader’s perspective and mine, where I feel I’m confiding in them amid the grief of everyday life, when there are things that don’t get spoken about in the spoken-word performance environment.

Stu Freestone’s self-portrait from The Lights That Blur Between as he looks at himself in the mirror

“The book is basically saying we’re all the same in how we grow through memories, reflecting on those nostalgic moments but then contrasting that with the everyday processes of normal life: the things that others don’t see.”

The book is divided into four sections: adolescent reflection, mental health, then comedic works that “try to find the light in life” and finally,  our relationship with loss, encapsulated in Before The Lights Go Out and the closing poem, title work The Lights That Blur Between.

“We try to get through loss with courage and empathy, where we can grow from our memories, but inevitably we walk through these lines between ‘breaking’ and ‘becoming’,” says Stu.

“I lost a friend, Nick, to suicide two years ago and wrote Before The Lights Go Out as an ode to our home town of Grantham and then the desperate bleakness of him no longer being there. The only thing I can take peace from is he achieved what he need to achieve, which sounds very dark, when he felt help was not an option.

Stu Freestone on stage at a Say Owt gig in York

“I’m 40 now, and to have lost as many people as I have in my close circle is very unlucky, so it’s an interesting place for me to try to find the perspective on that. I’ve done that through processing and writing, and I’ve written poems that aren’t in the book that are angry, but the ones in there that mean most to me are testament to trying to find positivity, for men to know that it’s OK to talk. That’s why we’ll be fund-raising for CALM, the Campaign Against Living Miserably charity.”

Stu’s trademark playful positivity surges through two poems in particular, Bliss, his hymn to York, his home since York St John University days in 2005, and Heed The Cheese, a nod to his other life running The Cheese Trader in Grape Lane. “I wanted to write a ‘univocalic’ poem, where every word uses only one specific vowel, so it had to be ‘E’ for cheese!” he reasons.

It strikes the only cheesy note in the book.

York Literature Festival and Say Owt present Stu Freestone, The Lights That Blur Between: book launch, The Crescent, York, March 30, doors 7pm. Box office: yorkliteraturefestival.co.uk or https://thecrescentyork.com/events/say-owt-stu-freestone-book-launch/.

Further Yorkshire performances:

13/04/26: Poetic Off-Licence, Holding Patterns, Leeds
28/04/26: ‘Goodnight D’, Crookes Social Club, Sheffield
02/05/26: The Old Courthouse, Thirsk
12/09/26: Bookmarked Festival, Thirsk

Stu is planning another York show, probably at Rise@Bluebird Bakery, Acomb, later this year. Watch this space.

Stu Freestone on the impact of York’s spoken-word proponents Say Owt

The logo for Say Owt, York’s gobby collective of northern performance poets

SINCE being founded by Henry Raby and Stu Freestone in 2014, Say Owt has run regular poetry events in York and beyond in the form of slams, workshops, scratches, open mics and a variety of other platforms.

More than 11 years on, Say Owt is run under the artistic directorship of Nerd Punk poet laureate, Vandal Factory theatre-maker and playwright Raby in tandem with associate artists Freestone, Hannah Davies and Dave “Bram” Jarman.

“What we wanted to create with Say Owt from the start was a platform for performance poets, whether new or established and well versed,” says Stu, whose Say Owt website profile introduces him as “the cheekiest of rogues with his devilish facial hair and a penchant for Hip-Hop”.

“It also gave us a platform to put our voices out there, and it’s magnificent that Say Owt has blossomed and bloomed into such a cultural beast, fronted by four very different performers. We’re like a ‘gruesome foursome’ of artistic merit!

“Henry is the punk poet extraordinaire; Hannah’s poems are a comforting hug; Jarman is more musical, and I’ve always liked doing things with a musical backing from my open-mic nights, where if people aren’t into poetry, the music gives it an extra surface.”

Say Owt associate artists Stu Freestone and Hannah Davies

Over the years, Say Owt has held events at The Basement at City Screen Picturehouse, The Crescent, St Mary’s Church and the Edinburgh Fringe.

Coming next will be the Say Owt Scratch at Theatre@41, Monkgate, York, on April 7, trying out poems for performance from 7pm to 9pm, followed by Shane Koyczan, supported by Leeds poet, dance artist, performance maker and “witch-in-progress”Izzy Brittain, at The Wardrobe, St Peter’s Square, Leeds, on April 12 (doors 7.30pm).

“Shane is a huge international artist, from Canada, who’s played Say Owt before and is one of the most globally viral poets ever,” says Stu. “He performed at the opening to the Vancouver Winter Olympics in front of 50,000 people.

“He’s a tour de force – and he was the reason I started writing . I’ve been fortunate not just to see him perform a few times, but we’ve also put him on at Say Owt and I’ve interviewed him, which was a ‘pinch me’ moment.”

In the Say Owt diary too are: April 17, Say Owt Slam, featuring Dublin-born Nigerian poet Maureen Onwunali, at The Crescent, York (7.30pm); April 29, Bad Betty Press Showcase, Bad Betty Live x Say Owt x Rise Up!, featuring Keith Jarrett, Hannah Silva, Desree, Jake Wild Hall and Chubby Northerner, Bluebird Bakery, Acomb (7.30pm); May 21, Luke Wright: Later Life Letter, Bluebird Bakery, Acomb (8.30pm, doors 7.30pm), and June 17, world poetry slam champion Henry Baker, Tender Book Tour, York Theatre Royal (7.30pm).

For booking details, head to: sayowt.co.uk.

Artistic director Henry Raby and associate artist Stu Freestone spinning words at Say Owt Slam

Stu on the impact of the sea on his writing

“I WROTE The Escape Of The Ocean when I was trying to process something particularly unpleasant and troubling in my life,” says Stu. “The poem describes standing on the beach and experiencing everything there in that moment that I’d experienced, and wanting to re-create in my writing that feeling of standing there with the wind in your hair.

“I wanted it to replicate whatever beach you may have been on, experiencing the rushing back and forth of the waves, like when I was processing what I’d been through, but it also stands on its own for the reader, where I’m putting these moments in the text that I find particularly interesting and are mood enhancing.

“The ‘escape of the ocean’ represents that openness and incomprehensible vastness of the sea, where no matter how big your problems are, it gives you a sense of perspective in that moment, whatever you’re facing.

“None of your problems are insignificant until you can clear your mind, but standing by the sea, you might think ‘this is crazy’ when the enormity of the world’s problems make yours seem insignificant.”

The front cover for Stu Freestone’s The Lights That Blur Between

Stu on supporting the Campaign Against Living Miserably (CALM) at Monday’s gig

“WE’LL be fund-raising for this charity, who stand up for finding a way to talk about suicide. The problem of mental health is rife, and I believe that everyone is as important as each other.

“For this occasion, I want to spread the message that everyone could do with discussing mental health.

“I’m at peace with it being OK to have a self-help element to the poems, without making it too overbearing, because the book is a tapestry of life as we live it and our lived experiences.

“The title poem, The Lights That Blur Between, relates to the loss of my friend Nick and to my personal battle with mental health, which I’d not gone through before, when he passed; trying to deal with that grief but also recognising mental health within myself and realising that maybe I had an issue.”

Stu Freestone opens up in performance

Stu on his love of life in York

BORN in Grantham, Nottingham Forest fan Stu moved to York in 2005 to study at York St John University and has never left, now dividing his time between writing and performing and putting the dairy into his daily diary as a cheesemonger at The Cheese Trader in Grape Lane.

“It’s a wonderful city,” he says. “You could always change certain things about any city but there are very few things I would change in York. I love the city’s size and how York is so emboldened by its history.

“There’s something so quaint about York, even though it’s a city, whereas Nottingham, for example, is a lot more of a concrete jungle. With every breath, there is history in York, which is exemplified by, wherever you look, people are taking photos.

“Having moved here and now made it my forever home, I try not to take it for granted. There’s a piece about York in the collection called Bliss, with a huge element of positivity about being who you want to be here, but also it’s about York being a city rooted in the ghost hunters charging through the alleys and snickelways.”

Stu continues: “Without living in York, I wouldn’t have had the same get-up-go to feel inspired to write. It’s a city where the community makes the place because we have a population of only around 200,000, which makes the community so strong, with an arts scene that’s bursting at the seams. It’s just a question of taking your chance.”

Bliss, Stu Freestone’s hymn to York in The Lights That Blur Between

This is not just another city.
We all need somewhere to call home, and this is where
we lay our heads.
This is our city.
Twenty four hours,
seven days a week.
There are many places like it but this one is ours to keep.
The buskers make up the soundtrack of our streets,
whilst the artists paint the Sistine Chapel on
paving slabs beneath our feet.
We,
are the graphite drawn from pencil tips sketching picture
perfect postcards.
Simply illustrated character outlines
making up the mise-en-scene of our skylines.

These streets are lined
with the phantoms of our fair city’s history.
City walls first built with earth and wood,
now stand in York stone and concrete
with tall tales that flush alongside cobbled streets.
Complete with tour guides
armed with lanterns leading the charge
through side-streets and snickelways;
calling out the long lost souls
struck down by the bubonic plague in 1378.
Just look how far we’ve come.
If education taught us anything
it was how and when to use our voice.
To give it purpose,
to make it count and to resonate the value
of our own personal choice.
Every syllable that drops from our lips,
every letter uttered or muttered is our own personal gift.
Our own little piece of bliss.
A little piece of us that never needs to be re-stitched,
and it’s up to us in how we use it.

We grew wise through school systems,
hand in hand with coursework and examinations.
Our teachers would throw outreach schemes
posing questions like,
“What do you want to be?” or
“What are you going to study at college?”
Listing all the reasons why knowledge is important;
and to not make the same mistakes they made.
Well at fifteen,
we just wanted to see the world
and there was nothing we could write
on a personal statement that was going to change that.
So we studied our books and studied our reflections,
searching for vital signs that bind ambition.
Alongside pressures of growing up in a system
that’s so focused on how we are portrayed and how we
might appear.
We have a fear of not looking at ourselves as something
special,
but the truth is we are picture perfect.
This is us and here we are.

We need to do it for ourselves because if we don’t nobody
is going to do it for us.
We need to form an alliance;
against the naysayers who decide that the “correct body
image”
is that plastered on billboards and TV broadcasts;
in films and magazines.
With all these waves of pressure,
how are we meant to stop feeling so weak?
It’s no wonder it’s so hard to be yourself nowadays.
But through it all we always overcome.
Brick by brick like the walls that were built to surround
this great city.
A barrier of defense and resilience so far from
mediocrity.
We’re all one of a kind.
We’re all one of the same.
A flame that burns brighter every time it believes in itself.
So let’s light fires all over this city tonight;
and make a bonfire of belief in the streets that we call
home.

Let us follow these cobbled brick roads down memory
lane,
and always start as we mean go on.
And if starting as we mean to go on,
means restarting from the beginning
then welcome it with open arms
even if the outcome moves us even further from the
finish.
Together we make up armies of ocean so vast,
we ride on the waves of impossible.
Impossible is what you make it.
And if you’re the only person that can say it to yourself
to make you believe it,
then say it.
Shape the things to come and change the world for some.
Brandish your language in spirited ways.
Holding word wars at dawn,
armed with sonnets and soliloquies.
Underground cap-gun fights
in low-level lights,
spilling
capital-letter-started sentences
and firing brackets for defenses.

Every comma and semicolon
makes up the chevrons on our shirts and shoulders,
redefining everything our parents ever told us
about chasing who we want to be.
Let the ashes of our past smoulder,
as we walk barefoot over the fears we once faced.
Retrace steps but realise our mistakes helped get us to
this point.
Our polished brass buttons reflect the inner glow of
adversity.
Gleaming.
Shimmering.
Shining.
Beacons of our own success.
Until we find ourselves at a full stop.
Where we start it all again.
Fill our lungs with all the would,
could,
and should-have-beens;
and all the things that were,
we wouldn’t trade for anything.

This is not just another city.
This is us.
We are here.

Copyright of Stu Freestone

The last word: The back cover to Stu Freestone’s The Lights That Blur Between