Alan Moore salutes the 'ramshackle institution' that changed his life

The radical voice of Alan Moore revolutionised comics. But without Arts Lab he might not have fulfilled his potential. Northampton’s most celebrated resident pays tribute to the mind-expanding institution. He’s still a member.

As a grammar school cast-off with no education beyond the age of 17, I’m sometimes asked where I acquired the abilities needed in my various fields of endeavour. If they don’t believe my radioactive spider story, then I’ll tell the truth, which is that nearly everything I learned, I learned from Arts Lab. Arts Lab was a creation of the 1960s, when we were still suffering from the hallucination that there might be entertaining and productive possibilities in life and in the world. A brainwave of the counterculture figurehead Jim Haynes, ridiculously easy to establish and immense fun to participate in, Arts Lab spread across the country during those colourful years, from Drury Lane to Beckenham, Birmingham to Northampton. 

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The Northampton version sprang from an announcement by the DJ at a psychedelic music venue, back in 1969, inviting anybody interested in any sort of art to meet up by the turntables and see if they could form an Arts Lab.

The resultant half-a-dozen people met initially at members’ flats before they found community rooms to contain these weekly gatherings at negligible cost, and with that, they were off and running. 

As a pretentious 16-year-old poet from a working-class background where poetry could get you bottled, I was introduced to the group by a schoolmate, realising straight away that this had been what I’d been looking for; had been just what I needed. 

What made this ramshackle institution such a pleasure was that Arts Lab had no hierarchies, no leaders. They were basically a bunch of friends who met up weekly to discuss art projects that the whole group were invited to contribute to, perhaps a magazine, perhaps poetry readings in a pub backroom, perhaps something ambitious and theatrical. 

There were no limits save physical or financial possibility, and, without supervision, we could be as intellectual and political or rude and vulgar as we wanted. 

Looking back, between the several duplicated, stapled magazines and the string of impressive or chaotic gigs and readings, we accomplished quite a lot in the few years we stayed together. 

More than this, I learned to write, perform, cartoon and publish with a group of people who were just as inexperienced as I was, and made valuable friendships that have lasted to this day. 

In 2015, during a day-long seminar on counterculture and why we now need it more than ever, attendees who wanted to take the ideas we’d been discussing forward were invited to leave contact details and, some weeks thereafter, got together at a local cafe to eventually emerge as the Northampton Arts Lab’s second incarnation, a bit like with Time Lords.

Finding a spare room for meetings upstairs at the local Labour Club, with space downstairs for readings and performances, the new group – it’s still going 10 years later – functions like a dream. It’s bigger, more inclusive and diverse, and with the aid of this technology that you young whippersnappers have these days, is able to accomplish things that weren’t imaginable 50 years ago. 

We’ve staged elaborate theatrical productions, published fancy magazines and hardback books and at the moment are producing a commemorative tribute to Brian Eno and Peter Schmidt’s deck of creative art-prompts, Oblique Strategies. And, perhaps most importantly, during the isolating lockdowns when the group could only meet online, provided a support network that helped a lot of people to get through. 

The precarious scaffolding on which I climbed to my career – underground publications, Arts Labs, fanzines, music weeklies, local newspapers – is mostly vanished, with art education cut back to the bone, leaving those who might have a hankering to paint, or write, or act, or to perform their music, or to make a film, pretty much out of options. Arts Labs, cheap and easy to start and continue, are a way for ordinary people to take art and entertainment back into their own hands, without waiting to be rescued by a governmental cavalry that clearly isn’t going to show up. 

In the decade since commencing our revived Northampton Arts Lab we’ve had other outfits springing up across the country, all unique and all defiantly resisting the encroaching grey and joyless prison atmosphere of modern living. Arts Lab gave us wonderful creators like cartoonist Steve Bell (Birmingham), and the immortal David Bowie (Beckenham). You can grow them from a gang of mates or strangers, absolutely anywhere at absolutely any time. You don’t need anyone’s permission. 

Well? What are you waiting for?  

Alistair Fruish is the last remaining of the writers in residence in prisons gang and has been making creative things happen behind bars for the last 24 years. He has worked in over 50 jails, of all categories.  His first novel  Kiss My ASBO was hailed by numerous working-class artists as groundbreaking. His entirely monosyllabic unpunctuated work, The Sentence, about a drug that slows down time that is given to prisoners, was read in non-stop four-hour participatory readings around the country.  Despite being dyslexic he has edited a few books, including Jerusalem by Alan Moore. He is a member of Northampton Arts Lab. 

Anxiety, Beans, Cow(s)

By Alistair Fruish

Don’t ask me why. All I know is I have to be there. I see him coming. It’s always him. Although sometimes he’s completely different. But I still know it’s him. I’ve never asked his name. I try sometimes, but I just can’t. It’s always the same guy, kind of. Well, he always has a cow. It happens all over the place, but it doesn’t matter. Always. Every time. Every time without fail, he has a cow. So that’s one way I know it’s him, but there are others. I’m compelled. You see I know I must be there. Sometimes I put up a struggle, but I never win. I always end up there, buying his cow off him. I don’t know why. I have so many cows now. Where do I get the money from? Well that’s the funny part, you see he doesn’t take money for them. I always offer to take his cow off his hands for a pocketful of magic beans. I always say it and he always agrees. I try sometimes to avoid him, but we come across each other anyway. It’s like we are compelled to meet. It’s frightening, but looking after the cows keeps me so busy, and what with keeping all my appointments with him, I don’t very often get the chance to think about it. The beans are no problem. I just have them. I don’t know if they’re magic or not. They turn up by themselves, so there is a strong possibility they are. He seems to think so because he’s always eager to take them. I am at my wits’ end. I must confront him and see what it’s all about. But I can’t. Or won’t. Or both. I don’t know what to do with all the cows. He’s not getting a very good deal on all this. Perhaps I could let him have a few back at a reasonable price. Well a man’s got to make a little for his trouble. Maybe I could offload them onto someone else. I feel it happening again, I’m going to have to do it again soon. There’s no use fighting it, even if I throw the beans away, they’ll still be in the pocket by the time he turns up. I’ve tried before. He’s close. I can feel it. I know the routine. No use fighting. So what’s another cow? Don’t ask me why. All I know is I have to be there. 

Anxiety, Beans, Cow(s) is taken from Songs of Insolence and Expedience, a forthcoming anthology of short works 1992-2025 by Alistair Fruish, available from Lepus Books.

Ambagious Tactics

2025 marks the 50-year anniversary of the first publication of Oblique Strategies cards by Peter Schmidt and Brian Eno. Each card contains a statement which can be used to inspire a creative response to your situation. Northampton Arts Lab decided to mark this anniversary by creating a limited-edition tribute act deck, made up of over 120 different “Ambagious Tactics”. This new deck is edited by Alistair Fruish with specially commissioned contributions from well over 100 different people. Some of these creatives are connected to Eno and Schmidt, and some are folk who regularly used Oblique Strategies, others are members of Arts Labs around the country, and some people were asked for the hell of it. Any money made by this project will be distributed to support worthwhile endeavours.  

If you’re interested in reserving a copy, email us.

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