Sally’s Palace was one of my experiments in community ministry.

For eight sweet months, I lived solo in a one-bedroom garden flat in Bedminster, Bristol, and at the end of the garden was a spacious, two room, fully soundproofed recording studio, which I transformed and opened up as a community micro-venue.

I curated and programmed evenings of Live Art, performance, live music, poetry, and even an all-day miniature techno rave (including a sauna parked out back), and held space for friends to practice massage therapy and yoga, and to record beautiful folk music. I initiated the first women’s circle that I have led. I had countless conversations in the Palace and all over the city about the magic that can be made in small spaces, how much Bristol needed community at that time, and the place of GodS in all of this.

Personally, I was interested in bringing to life the dream of having the temple that I tend be within my home.

For years, I’d loved the idea of owning a venue, combining my home and my sacred offering, holding space for creativity and community, and the divine weaving between. But what would it truly feel like to host strangers amidst my life and objects? And how much would I actually enjoy being the live-in temple priestess, with all of the cleaning, maintenance and financial responsibility that could entail? Creating Sally’s Palace was my way of answering these questions.

From September 2021 to April 2022, at bespoke events and one-off gatherings, I offered hospitality, warmth, lentil soup, good bread and a strict door policy. Thanks to word-of-mouth and a Whatsapp thread, we always had just enough people to feel the place heaving with love. Donations were gathered and redistributed to the talent. Costs were covered, floors were mopped.

Sally’s Palace showed me the conditions under which community blossoms, and that extraordinary performance art is possible, and perhaps even improved, by being in tiny spaces. Sally’s Palace showed me that I actually do prefer a bit of separation between my life’s work and my living quarters. In a very short time, the Palace became a micro-legend that Bristol gobbled up, and the stuff that makes community worth growing. Friends were made, songs were written, experiences were shared, lessons were learned. Successful experiment, I’d say.

Characteristically, I have no photos of any of it.