Through observing the places I have visited, and within my day-to-day life, I can conclude that I find England to be a somewhat messy place. Messy in the way it presents itself, and messy in the minds of it’s people. I am pretty sure that messiness is not unique to England, but I do think all places, from the local to the national have certain qualities that make them recognisable or typical, in and of themselves. It is this sense of place that I want to consider, both through the familiar, and also the largely overlooked elements of the spaces we encounter.

I once made a project about the variety of foreign visitors who came to stay in my home, as part of a ‘host family’ service. The premise of that project was that all people are essentially the same regardless of where they originate. I uphold that view, but in spite of this, recognise that culture plays a huge role in what is both expected, and accepted when it comes to what are considered behavioural norms within a society. With so many (often conflicting) points of view, and a more connected world than ever before, finding harmony in this space can look like an unsurmountable hill, and maybe it is. Is acceptance the key that will unlock the door to a more peaceful world, or is this truly unattainable if we could even begin to understand what being human really means?

Park-life after the first nationwide lockdown was lifted, Summer 2020

When I was a child, I saw my grandmothers regularly; they were chalk and cheese! My maternal grandmother, Nan, was of Irish parentage, born and raised in India. Gran from my paternal side was most definitely English, and a lady of the soil. Biologically she was my great-grandmother, but she took on the role of Mother to my Dad, and grandmother to my brother and I. Gertrude Mabel Eatwell, Gran to us was a soft and squidgy figure with a sharp tongue, but a warm heart. She was a grafter: early to bed, early to rise, and tended to her very large garden every day until she finally went into a care home, the victim of Alzheimer’s, and by which point she was in the habit of starting bonfires in the early hours of the morning. She grew an abundance of vegetables, sharing her crop with family and neighbours. She kept chickens and had a coal shed. The bathroom had no heating, and I remember how fast you’d pee during winter, so as not to sit on the loo for long, as it was like sitting on a block of ice. Gran was very resourceful. She crocheted the best blankets and made the best pickles: I delighted in choosing which jar of beetroot or pickled onions I wanted each time they were ready for consumption. In her garden there were various makeshift contraptions, and a lot of bird-scarers made out of silver milk-bottle tops, and other shiny bits of detritus, which would be stuck or strung onto wooden poles and stuck in the ground. I was going to say how things can seem higgledy piggledy in this kind of place, but really I think I am reflecting on the wisdom of how not so long ago people were content with making use of what they had, and didn’t turn to the likes of Amazon to answer their problems via blind consumption.

A portrait I made of Gran, some time in the early 1990’s.

I listened to a programme on Radio 4 recently called Dare to Repair. This episode was about how electronics manufacturers make it difficult for consumers to repair their products if they have a fault. Materials scientist Professor Mark Miodownik presents the show, and delves into the possibility of fixing faulty items himself; this week he attempted (and succeeded, with a little help) in replacing the cracked screen and dead battery of his mobile phone.

I found this information on the programme website disturbing: We love our electronic gadgets, gizmos and appliances. But when it comes to repairing and caring for them, UK citizens are second only to Norway when it comes to producing electronic waste. We have a culture of buying single-use, throwaway, cheaper-the-better, irreparable electronic goods. But the Age of Consumerism is over. If the kettles, toasters, phones and fridges we buy aren’t made to be repairable, and aren’t repaired, we are going to run out of things to buy, stuff to make them from and money to buy them with. Dare to Repair explores how we got to this unsustainable state, explores the fightback, whether it’s through global legislation or individual groups, and empowers listeners to prolong the life of their electronics and mechanical goods by fixing them.

To me this is all part of the wider issue of apathy in our society, and people not even trying (or knowing how to) join the dots. Cheap manufacturing overseas has added to our throw-away mentality. Globalisation, and the interconnectivity of systems, businesses, and dependency (import and export) is a hell of a lot for the average person to comprehend. On the one hand we can say that the ability to buy cheap goods makes for a more even-playing field throughout society, but mass production is adding to the demise of our greatest asset: planet earth. It is easy to draw our own narratives, but where do we draw the line? It sometimes feel like consumption is the lynchpin on which we survive.

The pandemic has at least given us time to reflect a little on what is important, sometimes as individuals, sometimes as societies, and sometimes as one world. Many people have talked of slowing down, and of thinking more about their surroundings. We are sensory beings, but it is easy to lose ourselves in the maelstrom of 21st century living. During the initial lockdown of 2020, there was that period of time, most noticeably in the city, where everything went quiet. There was barely a plane in the sky or a car on the street. The sound of birdsong amplified, and verdant foliage presented itself like a gift. These things are of course always there, but often over-looked or taken for granted. As we wandered the streets and parks, trying to comprehend what was happening, we took the time to connect with them. We engaged with our senses more and appreciated the value in those connections.

The city of London was built by the romans, starting life near the River Thames. In a bid to head north they made the first bridge to traverse the river, and to make their way to Colchester. London has been sprawling ever since, upwards and outwards, closing in around those who dwell there. Since the industrial revolution, the implementation of railway infrastructure and the introduction of the motor-car we have been filling this nation, layer by layer with our stuff: our homes, social spaces, shopping malls, cars, and more cars. England is congested and compact, especially in it’s cities. The tradition of forging ahead, building things up, and in more recent times knocking them back down, only to build them up again continues ad infinitum. We are already having to consider how our choices and actions over the past 100 years needs to be scrutinised urgently in order to lessen the negative impact on our future.

Project 4 x 4 x 4 will only take me forty miles from my London base in any direction, but I think what I’ve seen is representative of large parts of the UK. Of course there are some quaint villages that paint a rosy picture of the idyllic life, but even those villages hold secrets, and the villagers are often confronted with local expectations, such as keeping your garden looking neat or bringing your bins in in a timely fashion. The pull between conformity and being a ‘rule-breaker’ in any habitat can create hostility, which is often unspoken and can build resentment. That last sentence has made me think of living in polite society, 1984, communism, and neighbourly gossip all in one hit. We do not have time to discuss!

Perhaps a level of messiness is a good thing. Would we trust our streets if they were spotless, and lacking the traces of our human existence? On my wanderings I find what I see in turns surprising, confusing, humorous and familiar. I like it all!

The ‘dumped mattress’ is a sign of our times, and has become a popular subject of many a photo-feed. It is a good example of how different people respond to the issue of disposing of the same item. Dumping them on the street is a popular choice, but even rubbish can look beautiful in the right light. — The ‘dumped mattress’ is a sign of our times, and has become a popular subject of many a photo-feed.
It is a good example of how different people respond to the issue of disposing of the same item. Dumping them on the street is a popular choice, but even rubbish can look beautiful in the right light.

The audience will be small for this graffiti which has been sprayed onto a power unit that faces into a field, but at least the artist would have achieved a minor act of rebellion. For some graffiti is vandalism, for others a way to express themselves or to feel a sense of belonging.

I was intrigued, and amused by this little strip of grass: is it there for aesthetic reasons or to mark someone’s territory do you think?

This blogpost has been the hardest for me to write so far, as I wrestled a lot with what I was trying to say. Perhaps messy was the wrong word. Muddled may describe us better; a mishmash of thoughts and ideas, reflected in worn-down facades, and forever in flux; building and rebuilding, learning and un-learning…the spinning wheel of human existence, and the shortness of time to slow it down, to reflect and to resolve it.

All the people are here, with us, within us. They are us. And so to end, another thought from one of my regular sources of inspiration, Marcus Aurelius.

All of us are working on the same project. Some consciously, with understanding; some without knowing it. ( I think this is what Heraclitus meant when he said “those who sleep are also hard at work” - that they too collaborate in what happens.) Some of us work in one way, and some in others. And those who complain and try to obstruct and thwart things - they help as much as anyone. The world needs them as well.

So make up your mind who you’ll choose to work with. The force that directs all things will make good use of you regardless - will put you on it’s payroll and set you to work. But make sure it is not the job that Chrysippus speaks of: the bad line in the play, put there for laughs.

Source: Meditations, Marcus Aurelius, translated by Gregory Hays.