Paul Sellar, an acclaimed playwright and poet, brings his new show Across A Love Locked Bridge to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival.
This unique theatrical journey combines poetry readings with playful audience engagement, reflecting on themes of love, loss, resilience, and hope. The show promises to leave audiences feeling revived, uplifted, and inspired.
Across A Love Locked Bridge blends humour with contemplation and melancholy, inviting the audience to reminisce on their own experiences. Sellar’s work is known for its accessibility, complexity, and depth, making this show a testament to the power of poetry and theatre to connect with people on a personal level.
Across A Love Locked Bridge runs from July 31st to August 25th (excluding the 14th and 19th) at Pleasance Courtyard, with performances at 10:55. Tickets are available now.
You’re bringing Across A Love Locked Bridge to Pleasance Courtyard at Edinburgh Fringe. What can you tell us about the show?
For me it’s a series of firsts. The first time I’m bringing a show up myself. The first time I’ve written a poetry show (that isn’t a play). The first time I’ve dabbled in first person memoir (although with some poetic license) and it’s the first time I’m performing my own work in a theatre. That said: I have had help. Katie Garrett works with me as an associate producer and now as a stage manager / assistant director.
I’ve also felt very supported by the theatre and by the marketing and press teams and by everyone really. Perhaps I’m more conscious of the support because this time I’m in the producers seat. And I like it. I’m enjoying the producing side too.
So: the show itself. It’s a journey through love and loss and it concludes on a note of hope. It’s hewn from lived experience: but from a variety of lived experiences. There are many forms of love and many forms of loss explored. The show doesn’t just focus on one romantic relationship. It covers a few relationships: and not just romances either. Though it culminates with one particularly poignant love story.
So yes, the piece is a journey of discovery but it’s also about the healing, redemptive, transforming power of love. I can see why so much has been written about love. It has its own sense of infinity. It can never be fully captured it in life or art. It just is everything and all at once. And I believe it is the answer to pretty much everything. And to give that some form of expression feels like a very good spend of time.
And now: with my producers head on: I’ll add that this show should be a good compliment to anyone’s visit to the Fringe. If you’re looking to see theatre, dance, cabaret or comedy – then there is no reason not to add a poetry show into the mix. It’s palate cleansing, rewarding and enriching. And it’s on fairly early. It should get your day off to a good start.
Your show combines poetry readings with audience engagement and meta-theatrical narration. How did you develop this unique format?
It’s changing all the time. But what we’ve found in rehearsal is that simplicity is best – everything seems stronger once it’s been pared back – in the end it’s the poems that carry the stories: and I sense that all the audience will really want to know is what happens next: and all I’ll really want to do is tell them…
So the poems do a lot of the work for us and this frees me up to then be able to relish in the supporting narratives. So it’ll be an interesting show for the audience I would think. And a surprising and enjoyable one too.
Across A Love Locked Bridge deals with themes of love and grief. What inspired you to explore these themes in your poetry and performance?
Well, there is that quote about when life throws you lemons…
But in terms of the rendering of it… it was a fairly organic process. I began writing some of these poems in my mid-thirties and then again about ten years later: and set them aside. Almost forgot about them. But when I did revisit the poetry years later, I saw patterns in the work, connections and recurring themes. I saw myself in them too of course. But in a new way – a way I hadn’t fully appreciated at the time. Additionally, I saw the basis of a show.
Some losses are simply harder to take than others. They change us.
And one of the things I suddenly felt compelled to do was set the poetry down and shape it. Just as something to do really while I was figuring out what to do next – until the poetry became the thing I was going to do next.
I know that’s not really answering the question. But it’s a useful bit of context around it. And of course it’s unsurprising that the poetry was to some extent contoured by lived experience – any strong emotion tends to haunt the writing. Especially poetry I would imagine. If ever I’m not moved to write then I just don’t. I’ll do something else instead. Even if that something else is nothing.
But every time I do go back to it I find that my understanding of its themes has deepened. It is a truism that grief is loss or that grief is love. But what I found – with some detachment – is that sometimes grief enhances love – it amplifies it. And there’s something to celebrate in that. Something beautiful and poetic and something I felt drawn to both articulate and explore.
You mentioned that the more personal your poetry got, the more accessible it became to others. Can you elaborate on how personal experiences shaped this show?
Of course. Losing someone is a frightening experience. Not least because often you feel as though you lose them many times over. Losing yourself isn’t much fun either. And I think most of us do that too from time to time. It doesn’t need to be as a result of a big dramatic event. It could just be waking up feeling a bit… I don’t know… just not quite yourself or something – but that passes pretty quickly generally. But not when you lose someone you love. Whether you are losing them to addiction or anxiety. Or if they become ill or develop dementia or fall into some sort of… whatever it may be – that sense of someone disappearing in front of you can be incredibly disconcerting for everyone I think. But in my case what was brought home to me is that loss is inexorable and its everywhere and all at once. We are all disappearing slowly from each other and from ourselves and once you accept this, or at least recognise it, then it can be strangely liberating. Nothing matters quite as much. But that said – it’s worth noting that in this instance: the one thing that never went anywhere, the one thing that never disappeared: was love.
Ordinarily it’s the other way round. The love goes and the persons still there. That’s a more common loss. And in some ways that can almost be worse. And so – romantically – I like the fact that a love cut off mid stride can never die.
Your previous works have been well-received in theatre, film, and radio. How has your experience in these different mediums influenced your approach to this show?
I think many of these poems have a cinematic quality. But I can’t talk with too much authority about film. The vast majority of my work has been in theatre and radio. But this has given me a real insight into the power of language. Radio is a good example. The listener will see the drama in vivid detail. They film it in their minds eye. Like a novel really. And it’s similar with poetry too I find. And some of these poems do feel like little films. And the beauty with poems is that I can green light them myself. And the audience complete the work. They take the poem in and they cast it, light it, design it and shoot it: all within the cinema of their own mind. And all in real time too. That’s what’s thrilling about a poetry show – that the audience are so active and engaged in that respect.
What would you say to anyone thinking of booking to see Across A Love Locked Bridge?
I wouldn’t say anything. Other than perhaps suggest they read this interview, to help them make up their mind.
