John Siddique is a poet who constantly pushes the boundaries of his art. His extensive residencies include a year at the Lowry Gallery in Salford, 14 weeks at Prestwich psychiatric hospital in Manchester and, following the 2001 riots, schools and three years at Wetherby young offenders' institute. His most recent collaboration with Rainer Wigan, a charity working with under-supported young people   has given him license to do what he does best: be a poet.

 "Usually organisations want creative writing or arts development projects, which are OK, but sometimes it feels like you're not being used for what you do best," he says. "Rainer was different. My job was to reflect Rainer's world in Wigan, both the young people who use the service and the staff."

The idea came from Rainer Wigan's Service Manager Chris Langhorn who used funding from British Airways to build on arts projects they'd been running to encourage young people's creativity. A bit of a visionary, Chris felt the organisation could benefit also.  "Natural creativity in all of us is so often blocked by dull, bureaucratic, and soulless processes, that it seemed right to try and provide some means by which it can be allowed to come to the surface," he says.

John settled on  "trying to create portraits in poetry of the people I met - I like to work with visual art techniques such as portraits, landscape, and even cubism in my writing... and I love working with people. I was trying to show a little of the inner world; what I didn't want to do was write sentimental pieces saying how bad everything was; but actually show the people." 

John became a "sponge" over five-day sessions, shadowing staff and soaking up their world as they advised young people on things like benefits, health and drug and alcohol use; he attended appointments with other agencies and went to court with a young woman and her family. The collection of poems, Walk with you, were sketched out during the sessions and sometimes refined later. Nichola Brereton from Wigan's Drumcroon Gallery, which works closely with Rainer on its developing arts programme, photographed the sessions. John's poems will be interpreted by a visual artist in the next stage of the project, which Nichola will also record, and it's hoped all the strands will be exhibited in some form later.

I joined John at the last session of his residency when he was observing a meeting between Lewis and his support worker Paul Weaver. Lewis, 21, recapped on his life in children's homes and the stark reality of living independently - from hostel to hotel while waiting for his own flat. When it became too much, he escaped to Benidorm on a one-way ticket  (a place he'd previously visited and found fun). But he ended up getting sent back by the British Consulate and a social worker had to meet him from the airport in the early early hours. He's had problems budgeting and looking after himself, he was buying 24 cans of coke in his weekly shop and was drinking too much alcohol and ended up being convicted for being drunk and disorderly.

Rainer works with young people (aged 16-25) like Lewis, helping them gain self-esteem and skills to build a secure, independent home and lead fulfilling lives. (Nationally its 61 projects support 15,000 people at risk of family breakdown, in or leaving care, offenders, homeless or outside education, training or employment.) Lewis says he couldn't have made the turnaround without Paul. "My flat was like 'stig of the dump', and Paul even brought his own Hoover round and helped me make it more like home." Despite his mild learning difficulties and a rare skin disorder, which Rainer has helped him identify, he's making headway. He's involved in children's rights projects and is talking about doing media studies and becoming a newscaster. 

John listened and scribbled as Nichola took photographs. John faced   Lewis as he read out the poem. 

Lewis

There's a certainty under the skin,
a kind of dance that wants to manifest
itself in stillness. He's riding his own wave,
making a circle about himself, drawing
a pond of cold water under morning light.
Lewis has learned to take a place in the world.
Lifted himself out of drinking and disorder.
Now he wants to break his circumference,
cease to be a circle, unjoin his hands.

It was a poignant moment. Lewis was pleased, and welcomed the attention and quipped   back with a hilarious poem of his own entitled Chocolate.

Warren and Sean, the young men in the next session were more reticent. They didn't want to talk about their pasts; they are both on probation. Warren, 20, says his life is unstable because he's of "no fixed abode", but he's managed to keep down a 13-week landscaping job and hopes he'll be kept on. He enjoys hardcore rave music and when John explained about his "portraits", Warren said drawing portraits had helped him focus. Sean, 19, is working at the same place. He says support worker Donna Houghton has helped him budget and make his flat into a home, taking him shopping to Ikea. The poem that emerged moved us and captured these lives with incredible clarity.

The young gods

The young gods sit like boxers ready for the ring.
Boys with meaty hands, defending themselves.
Arms starting to cut into musculature.

Warren is full of sunlight, he soaks it in everyday,
working outside on his job. He is a compass
checking the directions. Facing west he pieces
his day together moving from sleeping couch to work,
with no fixed abode, he's a clear line, its his ethic
that keeps him clean. Walking his way to some kind
of space, a break in his moving from his moving about.

Sean is moon pale, works the same landscape
as warren. The sun has not caught Sean yet.
He doesn't like to talk too much, mustn't give himself away.
He's a young boy and a teenager at the same time.
Eight year old Sean looks out of nineteen year old eyes,
both of himselves awkward and proud.

Young fighters, young gods of the clubs, the streets.
Quiet before action. The world is on probation with them.
Quiet after their fights, taking each thump into their bodies.
Soaking up the shocks which they say don't bother them,
wearing them in their faces. They're cutting lines, keeping light.

 "I hold a mirror up to people and they take what they find from the poems," says John. "If it had been workshops, that's trying to change people because we think we know what's good for them, people like to see themselves, and often if shown a true reflection do what they need to do. I just write the poems."

Support workers Paul and Donna were positive about John's residency and said it's taken them on a journey and given them another way of looking at their work. They're  interested to see how what's been learned materialises. Chris Langhorn says feedback from staff and young people has been generally good and he hopes John will return. John's  reflections were "affirming, sometimes challenging, but very useful" in helping people reconsider their lives . 

John says the work at Rainer affected him profoundly, "their lives get inside you, not always in a knowing way." Now he's talking to Oldham council about a project using similar techniques, but looking at raising the esteem of the town. He's also written a series of poems about the London bombings (based on Goya's Disasters of War) and is delighted about his first collection of poetry The Prize, which was published by Rialto in September.

"I could have been here a long time ago, but being of mixed parentage, Irish and Indian, and raised as a Briton, I've been wary of publishers who would have liked me to tick some of their exotic boxes. Rialto have let me be a poet first, that's my nationality."

Some names have been changed

Interview by Karen Hooper

Rainer - www.raineronline.org