Rewrite
Writer Rosie Lowit takes a trip to Norfolk for Houghton, the staple British festival known for leading the way in visual art and electronic music.
It’s Thursday morning and my +11 and I are en route to Houghton Festival, ready for a weekend in Norfolk’s hedonistic playground. As is obvious by the number of people in my party, I don’t have a press invite and am camping with the commoners for the next few days. It takes us two hours to get through security and what feels like another two to set up our tents, at which point evidently bored security guards come to our rescue. I realise that my tent’s entrance is facing the wind, which is blowing at 20 MPH. It’s going to be a great weekend.
Houghton Festival is held in the grounds of the immense Houghton Hall, Norfolk, built for Britain’s first Prime Minister Sir Robert Walpole in the 1720s. Founded in 2017 by esteemed DJ and painter Craig Richards, Houghton combines otherworldly sound systems with an innovative visual arts programme. The only festival in the UK with a 24-hour music license, this year’s lineup introduces the most debut acts to date and offers sets by regulars like Joy Orbison and Ben UFO. I’ve mainly come, however, for the arts offering; iconic light artist Chris Levine has been commissioned to create three installations and EBBA studios have designed a site-specific work in the woods.
The expansive visual arts programme is immediately evident upon exploring the main arena on Thursday evening. Metal structures are dotted around the food village and continue into the forest, with Richards’ Trees come down, Andrew goes up – a sculptural tribute to DJ Andrew Weatherall – towering at the back of Pavilion stage. Starting off with Wayne Holland’s set, we choose the sculpture as our meeting point for the weekend. The lack of phone signal, whilst enforcing a welcome digital detox, makes losing one another inevitable.
After a relaxed night familiarising ourselves with the stages, Friday beckons and begins with trying – and failing – to join an oversubscribed tour of Houghton’s sculpture gardens. Who knew art would be so popular with drunk festival goers? With no media pass to flash, we accept defeat and spend the morning in The Orchard, Houghton’s wellness space. I stumble across Luke Davis, a ‘poet for hire’ who kindly listens to my vague ramblings and writes me a poem in two minutes.
At the Armadillo stage, we catch the end of a set by Craig Richards. Artist Chris Levine then joins Richards for a talk on his work at Houghton and wider practice. Best known for Lightness of Being (2008) his photograph of the Queen, Levine speaks brilliantly about the relationship between art, light and sound. “Let’s see how fucking high we can get with tech,” he tells a receptive audience.
After a post-cultural-overload siesta, we enter the Giant Steps tents to find DJ Kem mixing vinyls. The rest of the evening is spent at various sets including techno and acid venue Warehouse. Situated outside is LIGHT is LOVE, the first Levine work we come across. The artist has used a ‘blipvert’, a peripheral imaging technique that projects streams of text and imagery onto the mind when you shake your head. It’s incredibly impressive, especially to drunk people at midnight.
Just before 2am I walk past the artist himself, who is standing alone by the lake taking photos of Higher Beam, an enormous purple laser that arcs over the festival and extends into the surrounding countryside. The +11 encourage me to speak to him, but I wimp out and stride past. We enter the woods, where I forget about my awkwardness and the missed potential of an excellent hook for my debut Wonderland article by dancing to Raresh at Pavilion for an hour.
We emerge from the forest for the 3:30am laser show on the lake, and find a bench from which to watch the spectacle. The show features FULL BEAM, in which a floating VW campervan lights up at staged intervals every night, sending ethereal laser waves across the lake. Within minutes, the now recognisable silhouette of Levine approaches and he pauses two metres away from where we’re sitting, once more watching his work. After further peer pressure, I go over to introduce myself. Luckily, he’s absolutely lovely and we have a great chat. “I’m just looking at this thinking about what I could do better next time”, he tells me. We speak about our mutual love of light artist James Turrell – who Levine met on the grounds of Houghton Hall during Turrell’s major exhibition in 2015 – and how much I enjoyed his talk earlier that day. After embarrassing myself for long enough, I go back to my group and Chris Levine returns to watching his beautiful display light up the lake. Job done.
The night is young and after a dance to the wonderful Grace Sands at Stallions, we decide that 6am is the right time to find Terminus, Houghton’s secret stage. Situated out of the main arena and beyond the campsite, the stage runs 24 hours a day but no artists are announced. Some helpful Houghton veterans lead us in the right direction and after a mere 45 minutes in the queue, which we’re told is pretty quick, we get let into the stage. It’s fun but our legs are hurting, so after half an hour we call it a day – or night – and head back to sleep for as long as we can given the bright daylight and echoes of thumping music.
Because of this, Saturday morning is a slow one, but we manage to catch the last ten minutes of a talk titled ‘The state of sub culture’ at Armadillo, the line up of which includes the brilliant artist and writer Rene Matić.
On Saturday afternoon, I sit up from a grassy nap and cleverly place my hand on what I’m later told is a horsefly, which promptly stings me. Over the next 36 hours my hand swells up like a balloon. The timing isn’t ideal.
Evening calls for a life drawing session at The Orchard, led by Norwich-based artist Sophia Shuvalova. We surround the model on yoga mats and try to create her likeness in pencil. It’s a relaxing hour, except I now have charcoal all over my increasingly expanding hand and there’s no soap in sight. The show must go on, and it does so with a dance to Calibre at the Outburst stage, followed by Chez Damier and Luke Una at Stallions.
On Sunday morning we find ourselves at The Orchard again for a sound bath. Squeezing ourselves into the packed tent, what occurs is a dreamy hour of floating in and out of sleep. We continue the calm at The Pinters stage, listening to a beautiful live set by saxophonist Sha.
It’s 5pm and our last chance to see Houghton Hall’s sculpture garden. My now massive hand and I (and a mere five of the +11 who have soldiered through and are still feigning an interest in the festival’s arts programme) haggle our way to the front of the queue and are escorted onto the ‘land train’, which turns out to be a kind of cattle trailer. I feel like a proper bus wanker when an onlooking festival goer sprays us with his water gun as we trundle out of the arena.
The first sculpture we see in the gardens is Stephen Cox’s Interior Space (1995), in which the tour volunteers urge us not to get our heads stuck. If you’re wondering what kind of people embark on a sculpture tour on the last day of a festival, there you have your answer. The work is one of several on show by Stephen Cox, who’s having his most extensive solo exhibition to date, Myth, at Houghton Hall until 28 September.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the most awe-inspiring piece we see is James Turrell’s Seldom Seen Skypace, a permanent work that opened in 2004 as the site’s first contemporary art installation. We’re encouraged to lie on the floor for a minute’s silence – which I do enthusiastically – and watch the sky through the open ceiling. Starkly contrasting the techno beats that I can hear faintly in the background, this moment of peace affirms my love for Houghton.
Our last night kicks off with Joy Orbison at the Derren Smart main stage, which has to be one of the best sets of the weekend. Afterwards, we join the masses heading into the forest. At Earthling, I ask a bartender for ice to aid my painful hand and am told I’d have to pay £2 for the cup. Weary and dejected, I take that as my sign to call it a night.
Our story ends, dear reader, at 7:30am on Monday morning when the +11 pack up their tents and head off to the car park, ready to journey home after the best weekend of their lives. Superior to all others, Houghton Festival perfectly combines unreal sound systems and immersive woodland stages with wellness, visual arts and live music. As for me? I’m off to A&E.
Photography – Khroma Collective
Words – Rosie Lowit
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Writer Rosie Lowit takes a trip to Norfolk for Houghton, the staple British festival known for leading the way in visual art and electronic music.
It’s Thursday morning and my +11 and I are en route to Houghton Festival, ready for a weekend in Norfolk’s hedonistic playground. As is obvious by the number of people in my party, I don’t have a press invite and am camping with the commoners for the next few days. It takes us two hours to get through security and what feels like another two to set up our tents, at which point evidently bored security guards come to our rescue. I realise that my tent’s entrance is facing the wind, which is blowing at 20 MPH. It’s going to be a great weekend.
Houghton Festival is held in the grounds of the immense Houghton Hall, Norfolk, built for Britain’s first Prime Minister Sir Robert Walpole in the 1720s. Founded in 2017 by esteemed DJ and painter Craig Richards, Houghton combines otherworldly sound systems with an innovative visual arts programme. The only festival in the UK with a 24-hour music license, this year’s lineup introduces the most debut acts to date and offers sets by regulars like Joy Orbison and Ben UFO. I’ve mainly come, however, for the arts offering; iconic light artist Chris Levine has been commissioned to create three installations and EBBA studios have designed a site-specific work in the woods.
The expansive visual arts programme is immediately evident upon exploring the main arena on Thursday evening. Metal structures are dotted around the food village and continue into the forest, with Richards’ Trees come down, Andrew goes up – a sculptural tribute to DJ Andrew Weatherall – towering at the back of Pavilion stage. Starting off with Wayne Holland’s set, we choose the sculpture as our meeting point for the weekend. The lack of phone signal, whilst enforcing a welcome digital detox, makes losing one another inevitable.
After a relaxed night familiarising ourselves with the stages, Friday beckons and begins with trying – and failing – to join an oversubscribed tour of Houghton’s sculpture gardens. Who knew art would be so popular with drunk festival goers? With no media pass to flash, we accept defeat and spend the morning in The Orchard, Houghton’s wellness space. I stumble across Luke Davis, a ‘poet for hire’ who kindly listens to my vague ramblings and writes me a poem in two minutes.
At the Armadillo stage, we catch the end of a set by Craig Richards. Artist Chris Levine then joins Richards for a talk on his work at Houghton and wider practice. Best known for Lightness of Being (2008) his photograph of the Queen, Levine speaks brilliantly about the relationship between art, light and sound. “Let’s see how fucking high we can get with tech,” he tells a receptive audience.
After a post-cultural-overload siesta, we enter the Giant Steps tents to find DJ Kem mixing vinyls. The rest of the evening is spent at various sets including techno and acid venue Warehouse. Situated outside is LIGHT is LOVE, the first Levine work we come across. The artist has used a ‘blipvert’, a peripheral imaging technique that projects streams of text and imagery onto the mind when you shake your head. It’s incredibly impressive, especially to drunk people at midnight.
Just before 2am I walk past the artist himself, who is standing alone by the lake taking photos of Higher Beam, an enormous purple laser that arcs over the festival and extends into the surrounding countryside. The +11 encourage me to speak to him, but I wimp out and stride past. We enter the woods, where I forget about my awkwardness and the missed potential of an excellent hook for my debut Wonderland article by dancing to Raresh at Pavilion for an hour.
We emerge from the forest for the 3:30am laser show on the lake, and find a bench from which to watch the spectacle. The show features FULL BEAM, in which a floating VW campervan lights up at staged intervals every night, sending ethereal laser waves across the lake. Within minutes, the now recognisable silhouette of Levine approaches and he pauses two metres away from where we’re sitting, once more watching his work. After further peer pressure, I go over to introduce myself. Luckily, he’s absolutely lovely and we have a great chat. “I’m just looking at this thinking about what I could do better next time”, he tells me. We speak about our mutual love of light artist James Turrell – who Levine met on the grounds of Houghton Hall during Turrell’s major exhibition in 2015 – and how much I enjoyed his talk earlier that day. After embarrassing myself for long enough, I go back to my group and Chris Levine returns to watching his beautiful display light up the lake. Job done.
The night is young and after a dance to the wonderful Grace Sands at Stallions, we decide that 6am is the right time to find Terminus, Houghton’s secret stage. Situated out of the main arena and beyond the campsite, the stage runs 24 hours a day but no artists are announced. Some helpful Houghton veterans lead us in the right direction and after a mere 45 minutes in the queue, which we’re told is pretty quick, we get let into the stage. It’s fun but our legs are hurting, so after half an hour we call it a day – or night – and head back to sleep for as long as we can given the bright daylight and echoes of thumping music.
Because of this, Saturday morning is a slow one, but we manage to catch the last ten minutes of a talk titled ‘The state of sub culture’ at Armadillo, the line up of which includes the brilliant artist and writer Rene Matić.
On Saturday afternoon, I sit up from a grassy nap and cleverly place my hand on what I’m later told is a horsefly, which promptly stings me. Over the next 36 hours my hand swells up like a balloon. The timing isn’t ideal.
Evening calls for a life drawing session at The Orchard, led by Norwich-based artist Sophia Shuvalova. We surround the model on yoga mats and try to create her likeness in pencil. It’s a relaxing hour, except I now have charcoal all over my increasingly expanding hand and there’s no soap in sight. The show must go on, and it does so with a dance to Calibre at the Outburst stage, followed by Chez Damier and Luke Una at Stallions.
On Sunday morning we find ourselves at The Orchard again for a sound bath. Squeezing ourselves into the packed tent, what occurs is a dreamy hour of floating in and out of sleep. We continue the calm at The Pinters stage, listening to a beautiful live set by saxophonist Sha.
It’s 5pm and our last chance to see Houghton Hall’s sculpture garden. My now massive hand and I (and a mere five of the +11 who have soldiered through and are still feigning an interest in the festival’s arts programme) haggle our way to the front of the queue and are escorted onto the ‘land train’, which turns out to be a kind of cattle trailer. I feel like a proper bus wanker when an onlooking festival goer sprays us with his water gun as we trundle out of the arena.
The first sculpture we see in the gardens is Stephen Cox’s Interior Space (1995), in which the tour volunteers urge us not to get our heads stuck. If you’re wondering what kind of people embark on a sculpture tour on the last day of a festival, there you have your answer. The work is one of several on show by Stephen Cox, who’s having his most extensive solo exhibition to date, Myth, at Houghton Hall until 28 September.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the most awe-inspiring piece we see is James Turrell’s Seldom Seen Skypace, a permanent work that opened in 2004 as the site’s first contemporary art installation. We’re encouraged to lie on the floor for a minute’s silence – which I do enthusiastically – and watch the sky through the open ceiling. Starkly contrasting the techno beats that I can hear faintly in the background, this moment of peace affirms my love for Houghton.
Our last night kicks off with Joy Orbison at the Derren Smart main stage, which has to be one of the best sets of the weekend. Afterwards, we join the masses heading into the forest. At Earthling, I ask a bartender for ice to aid my painful hand and am told I’d have to pay £2 for the cup. Weary and dejected, I take that as my sign to call it a night.
Our story ends, dear reader, at 7:30am on Monday morning when the +11 pack up their tents and head off to the car park, ready to journey home after the best weekend of their lives. Superior to all others, Houghton Festival perfectly combines unreal sound systems and immersive woodland stages with wellness, visual arts and live music. As for me? I’m off to A&E.
Photography – Khroma Collective
Words – Rosie Lowit
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