Creative Videographer Unmasking the Absurd: Feast of Fools at Fishmarket

In 2009, I was commissioned as a creative videographer to film an exhibition called Feast of Fools at the Fishmarket Gallery in Northampton.

What unfolded was part medieval pageant, part surreal art happening—and one of the most playfully subversive shows I’ve ever had the chance to document.

The exhibition took its name from a tradition of misrule in medieval Europe. In the lead-up to Lent, power structures were reversed, children became bishops, and fools were crowned kings. It was a time of sanctioned chaos, where the sacred was parodied and the normal order of things was deliberately turned on its head. That same spirit ran through the whole show—an invitation to take things seriously by not taking them seriously at all.

It wasn’t just the content that felt unusual. The space itself—the old bus station-turned-gallery—was filled with echoes and odd acoustics, with artworks looming, crouching, and perching in corners. The whole thing felt like stepping inside a stage play where the rules had been rewritten.

As an arts and culture filmmaker, I’ve always been drawn to projects that unsettle expectation. This kind of playful inversion is something I’ve found compelling, especially when artists use humour to explore deeper truths or challenge social structures. Feast of Fools embodied that entirely, and it pushed me to think differently about my role as a creative videographer.

The artists—Christopher Davies, Stella Capes, and Max Attenborough—each approached the theme in their own way. Christopher’s contribution was impossible to miss: a 25-foot frog mounted high on the gallery wall. It began life as a small oil painting, but in its new form it became something more monstrous and magnificent. Absurd and commanding, the frog loomed like a green gargoyle watching over the exhibition. It was funny, yes—but also weirdly affecting. You couldn’t ignore it.

I remember conversations about whether it was too much—whether the scale would overwhelm the space. But that was part of the point. The frog wasn’t just a visual gag—it was a disruption. A creature of misrule. It reminded me how play can carry real meaning when it’s done with intent. As an arts and culture filmmaker, I found that tension deeply satisfying to capture on film.

At the time, I’d just started using my Sony Z5—one of the first professional video cameras I ever owned. This project marked a shift in how I approached filming exhibitions. Unlike interviews or events, gallery work requires a slower, more observational rhythm. You’re not just documenting objects—you’re capturing how the space breathes. With Feast of Fools, I experimented a lot: slow pans, ambient sound, gentle tracking shots. It was a way of letting the work set the pace, rather than imposing my own. The show gave me a chance to grow into the role of a creative videographer, finding balance between intuition and structure.

I also began to notice how light changed through the day and how that subtly altered the character of each piece. In some cases, I leaned into it; in others, I adapted quietly. That awareness of time, space, and atmosphere became central to how I work today. As an arts and culture filmmaker, I was learning to observe before reacting, to interpret before explaining.

There’s something rewarding about filming exhibitions that lean into theatricality. These works rely on presence and context, and as a creative videographer, I began thinking less like a technician and more like a collaborator—someone trying to preserve not just visuals, but a feeling.

A highlight of the event was the screening of Carnival!, a documentary by Don Letts. He visited the gallery to introduce the film and speak about the political history of carnival—not as a celebration, but as resistance. In Notting Hill, the Caribbean, and beyond, carnival has long been a means for people to reclaim space, challenge authority, and voice truths through costume, satire, and music. His reflections reframed the entire exhibition, grounding its absurdities in something deeply human.

The artists had tapped into that same tension—between spectacle and substance, humour and critique. The show was vibrant and mischievous, but there was always a murmur of something darker. That push and pull is what made it so interesting to film. Art doesn’t have to resolve itself; sometimes it’s more powerful when it doesn’t. As a creative videographer, these are exactly the moments I look for—where what’s unsaid speaks loudest.

Looking back, Feast of Fools helped clarify the kind of filmmaker I wanted to become. I didn’t want to just record. I wanted to respond—to shape films that enter into quiet dialogue with the work. It was one of the first times I trusted that instinct. Now, as both a creative videographer and an arts and culture filmmaker, I seek out projects that hold that same balance of play and purpose—where the story isn’t always linear, but always alive.

If you’d like to watch more of my work exploring community stories, creative resilience, and diverse subjects across arts, heritage, and the environment, you can explore all my films here: https://alanfentiman.co.uk/films-by-alan-fentiman/

You can also browse more of my artist and exhibition films here: https://alanfentiman.co.uk/vimeo-videos/artist-films/