Once a year the picturesque rural town of Wirksworth in Derbyshire becomes the backdrop for a spectacle of creative exuberance. Every September the town plays host to a multitude of artists who through music, sculpture, dance, painting, mime, that odd installation stuff that no one really likes, the annoying entity that is street theatre and of course the ubiquitous have a go workshop express they’re inner child like yearnings for acceptance and adulation. This year the Cult of the Drunken Prophet sent ambassadors Dan North and Matt Haddon-Brown along to spread the word of the Alcohol Tarot and promote their own art work in the process.

The two young would be Van Gogh’s set up shop in the Red Lion public house while the Prophet went about sampling the fine selection of ales on offer. Upstairs Dan hung his evocative oil paintings whose inspiration is taken from the notion of blurring the line between fantasy and reality. Downstairs Matt stuck on a Boards of Canada CD and converted the cellar into a shrine to mental illness and the perspective distorting effects of anti-depressents.

Madam Toni was meant to be present flogging decks and reading fortunes but the tragic flooding of her home city of New Orleans resulted in the loss of her pet alligator and the cancellation of her only UK public appearance of 2005. Old Nick was also notably absent citing his arrest for murder as the main reason he would have to cancel the weekend.

People came and went. Most liked Dan’s paintings, the ones who didn’t lacked taste. Down in the cellar Matt’s photo’s provoked shock, amusement and ambivalence. One lady was particularly disturbed by ‘Bath Time Blues’, a picture depicting a naked Matt in a bath of blood while his masked alter ego sits nonchalantly staring into space. Matt offered to give her the print to hang in her lounge, she declined.

Saturday drifted into Sunday a print was sold here a tarot deck there. The boys hoped someone from the Tate Modern or a spunky Guardian writer would turn up and pluck them out of obscurity into a world of artist hedonism followed by a spell in the Priory. It never happened. By five o’clock it was time to pack up and Matt in particular felt like the whole exercise had been one glorious drunken masturbation session. Pleasant for a while but lacking a satisfactory climax. Perhaps the boys will be back next year; perhaps they will both die from Asian avian flu. Only time will tell.

Click on the thumbs below to take a peak at some of the festival artists and the art work.