Sep 1, 2026 · 3 min · 3 segments
Elderescence Academy™ Pasha du Valentine in the archive. iServalan in the present. Goddamn Media still on the tape.Brighton Arts Club, 2009–. Confessions, cabaret, interviews, and the radical…
Sarnia de la MaréHostNo entities detected.
In 2009 Pasha Duvalentine founded the Brighton Arts Club, less a member's institution than a habit.
Poets, painters, cabaret wrecks, and anyone who would stand still long enough got pulled into the same room.
The Grosvenors opened mic nights, living room interviews, degree show films, pride footage, half-lit performances—that was the club.
The name sat on the tapes the way a stamp sits on a bootleg, not official, just true.
Brighton then still had the leftover heat of art school basements and late rooms that smelled of beer and emulsion.
It treated the city as a studio and treated documentation as part of the work.
Pasha, performance persona of Sarnia de la Mare FRSA, presented, filmed, and published in the same breath, interviews with old school friends and fellow poets, fragments of experimental film, the sort of footage that looks accidental until you realize someone kept the archive.
The years that followed, roughly 2009 to 2016, are the core of the vault, underground sound, political art, feminist performance, and the ordinary chaos of a seaside city that still thought it could invent a scene overnight.
Not radical in the manifesto sends so much as radical in the refusal to sand the edges off.
If it was too rude, too queer, too late, or too local for anyone else, it went in the catalog anyway.
The club's ghosts still turn up in new rappers, full bloom, tale-teller club press, the long afterlife of work that was never meant to sit still.
The house name is the same because the attitude is the same, confession as a form, satire as a public service, and no obligation to be tasteful about either.
This blog is the shop window for what that press still makes, including the satirical merch that actually moves, and a place to pull old work back into the light without pretending it was ever respectable.
In 2009 Pasha Duvalentine founded the Brighton Arts Club, less a member's institution than a habit.
Poets, painters, cabaret wrecks, and anyone who would stand still long enough got pulled into the same room.
The Grosvenors opened mic nights, living room interviews, degree show films, pride footage, half-lit performances—that was the club.
The name sat on the tapes the way a stamp sits on a bootleg, not official, just true.
Brighton then still had the leftover heat of art school basements and late rooms that smelled of beer and emulsion.
It treated the city as a studio and treated documentation as part of the work.
Pasha, performance persona of Sarnia de la Mare FRSA, presented, filmed, and published in the same breath, interviews with old school friends and fellow poets, fragments of experimental film, the sort of footage that looks accidental until you realize someone kept the archive.
The years that followed, roughly 2009 to 2016, are the core of the vault, underground sound, political art, feminist performance, and the ordinary chaos of a seaside city that still thought it could invent a scene overnight.
Not radical in the manifesto sends so much as radical in the refusal to sand the edges off.
If it was too rude, too queer, too late, or too local for anyone else, it went in the catalog anyway.
The club's ghosts still turn up in new rappers, full bloom, tale-teller club press, the long afterlife of work that was never meant to sit still.
The house name is the same because the attitude is the same, confession as a form, satire as a public service, and no obligation to be tasteful about either.
This blog is the shop window for what that press still makes, including the satirical merch that actually moves, and a place to pull old work back into the light without pretending it was ever respectable.
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