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"A Junction of Imprints" Written and directed by Alicia Green. Devised and performed by the Craven Arms Girls Group.

'A Junction of Imprints' is a film which uses movement and text to combine personal, historical and metaphorical snapshots of Craven Arms. The movement, devised and performed by members of the Craven Arms Girls Group is inspired by journeys through the town. Filmed on locations around Craven Arms, the work demonstrates the effect landscape has on the way we move. The text creates a vision of the town as a knotted tapestry of journeys, from the pre-historic to the present day. Seeing each patch of land as a frame, 'A Junction of Imprints' seeks to unravel each square, bringing to life a reunion of settlers, in a celebration of not only how we have imprinted on the land - but how it has imprinted upon us.
Watch the film on CATV

A Junction of Imprints

Whose buried imprint fits the line?

Nimble must we seek to unravel
this trodden knot of intentions,
this twisted undergrowth of Newton old and new

The land rises to reveal -

Railway bones
once your throne,
Industry's corpses fallen


like storm stricken branches
crashed from pedestal

Secrets stitched in an obelisk
rows and roads
surrendered to the reign of hills

Craven plains,
haunted by your desert days
predecessors leave a wave
gallant wheels speed forth

The land rises to reveal -

Mutterings of an Ice Queen age
they gave you arms to melt hostility -
do you resent to hold us?

Boredom beats
on a dustbin lid
litter inside shakes like a snake
through the swerving streets
Shoulders of young women
rise in defence
where darkness lights fear
and fear follows fast
on a bike
on a horse
on the way to my Gran's

What we find when we unbind this land
like palaeontologists of journeys?
A burial ground of collisions?
Here lies brachiopod, branch line and bus-stop
Rest in peace, wait in patience, prepare to follow…

Tracks of ammonites
squirming out of sediment
reliving the Silurian
dynasties of frozen dances
melt into motion
each frame a trace of remains

Blood and custard coaches
plum and spilt milk houses
skeletal sleepers
suffocated insects in amber
layer on layer
preservation of patterns
journeys weaved over
tapestries abandoned

Like the old line
a sturdy trapeze
a branch for insidious littering
dogs chasing ghost trains
into the distant cyclorama of trees

Where backdrops of mounds
proud to be themselves
enclose every haunt
every chaser in town

Where do scared bodies roam
when there's "no where to go"?
when the cushion of views vanish
when the moon says "hello"?

Space becomes waste
becomes threat
and terrain
for hooded packs
of boys on bikes
where the Spar becomes stage
for the big kids games

The land rises to reveal -

An abandoned antiquity
an architect's soliloquy
enduring a weary demise
her swaying steel
swings a rough cut
similar shape to the
swollen steep sisters
only they are protected -
she is not

Shattered panes
scatter a ground
where future froze past
birth and glory immortal
in a sea of broken glass

Rail and road race river -
the outsider
a shallow speeder
Cancerian dreamer
an offering
pedestrian crossing
single-file lingering bridge
'A' shapes a place
squeezing, stopping, negotiating
at a thank-you gate

Forward facing
your eyes roll with the flow
backward facing
like the locomotive decision -
Is it better to face where you are going
or where you have come from?

Early snowdrops tear through banks
sneaking, peeping, teasing
bowing in homage
beckoning empathy
to the cold white bars

A platform place
to say a prayer
a stage to sing undertones
of earthy aromas spooking the air…