We Made That

Gatecrashers

As well as commissioning permanent public realm and re-branding art works, regeneration companies routinely hire Community Artists for targeted direct contact with communities where regeneration plans are afoot. Artists are brought in to aid goodwill, engender trust, involve people, and mediate change, as much as to make art. The kind of art that might change perceptions of an area, adorn the pages of an annual report, be used in a Public Inquiry or add value to property development. Artist’s residencies on regeneration projects have documented environments destined for destruction, used demolition spoil for building artwork, and collected The Hopes of a neighbourhood. The Fears though? Not so much. The creative agenda for Community Art projects funded by the regenerist will likely differ from that of the local artists or residents. One is primarily concerned with promoting a Promised Land, the other is focused on surviving the external investment, and the social cleansing or gentrification that might come with it.

The task of shining a light on the displacement and dismay of the people designed out of post-demolition development is not going to be supported by the developers and regeneration officials. Such visions run contrary to the interests of the development partnerships. By chance, I joined one of many communities destined for demolition in 2004, when my home and neighbourhood in Liverpool were scheduled for destruction. I translated my experience as a piece of human spoil into an art work that was appreciated by the local community and others like it. It was reviewed in the art press, covered in the academic press and was toured in a North of England textile exhibition. The work Nothing Is Private - a net curtain with audience activated security lighting was shown and promoted as part of Liverpool Independents Biennial in 2006. So it straddled many communities and resonated in multiple contexts. It was shown in the front window of my home. I live over the road from Granby in an area similarly blighted by failed regeneration schemes and where another grassroots campaign has succeeded in rescuing homes from the bulldozers.

When my home and studio in Liverpool’s Welsh Streets was threatened with demolition in a regeneration area, the Compulsory Purchase Orders did actually come with the sweetener of an official artist-in-residence, Moira Kenny, who came and worked in an empty house in Powis Street for a number of weeks in June 2006. The residency, funded by the local Housing Market Renewal (HMR) company New Heartlands and their partners Plus Dane, took place in an empty corner shop on the contested site. Applications for the post were filtered. I was forbidden from tendering for the official Welsh Streets residency, despite being a Welsh Streets resident and an artist. As secretary and spokesperson for the local campaign group seeking alternatives to demolition, I had a national media profile, my opinions were known, and the protagonists of the scheme presumably needed to prevent me from articulating dissent amongst a local audience. In protest, a reputable local Community Art group refused to apply for it themselves as a response to my exclusion. So they filtered themselves out in solidarity.

A closed tender process selected an artist from outside the area, but inside the arts community, who came and made artwork in Powis St. I showed my work concurrently with her official Welsh Streets residency work as part of Liverpool Independents Biennial 2006. I suppose I effectively infiltrated the programme of creative work visible in the district, made a local dimension available and overcame the ban by simply being a) a resident and b) an artist. The work - the net curtain - received critical acclaim expounding the loss of privacy and personal autonomy faced by the little people when confronted with big plans. Its performative aspect (the work exposed the household to the street by lighting them) was as uncomfortable for the viewer as it was for the viewed. Rather than sit by and become the invisible Welsh Streets resident artist passed over by powerful external interests, I created a piece that engineered super visibility. Without a doubt I was emboldened by the support of my community. The Nothing is Private net was made and toured as part of the Mechanical Drawing exhibition produced by the Embroidery Department at Manchester Metropolitan University. So it was enabled by another community: the embroiderers, textile makers, lace workers and academics in the North West who view me as a radical textile artist, and a bona fide member of their community. So they visited too, traveling to the Welsh Streets mostly from the North. I put out a visitor’s book and people wrote in it, thus becoming part of the archive of commentary about the streets, the houses. A new dimension was added to the cultural tourism package that Liverpool is so proud of: the ghetto tourism of the tinned-up terraces.

They were followed by Heritage tourists, UNESCO walking tours, Jane’s Walk town planners, law and social science departments, urbanists, artists, drama, art and composition students, historians, archivists, architects and journalists, TV crews and animators. All visited the Welsh Streets and as campaign spokesperson I spoke with them all. In 2016, Samson Kambalu filmed in the Welsh Streets for a new commission that was presented as part of Liverpool Biennial 2016. He walks in the footsteps of numerous photographers, among them Mark Loudon & Sandy Volz (commissioned by Welsh Streets Home Group), Rob Bremner, Peter Carr, Peter Haggerty and Ciara Leeming, who included us in her comprehensive photographic journal of the HMR process. Kambalu will join countless press photographers, TV cameramen and bloggers. All welcome, all walking the wasted Welshies, pointing cameras at our homes while we twitch our nets.

And me, I’ve taken thousands of photographs here too, because as campaign spokesperson, I found that a picture speaks a thousand tears. The net curtain Nothing Is Private is a direct action that harnessed art as both a shield and a decoder in a war of information. It can be contextualised among other cultural resistances that re-negotiate imposed narratives. Here the flimsiest, lowliest media articulated the experience of dread and degradation experienced by communities in clearance zones and became a testimony to that experience. It was documented in art and academic publications. Could it have been commissioned by a Community Arts organisation? None that I know of. Community Art tends to avoid controversy. The work toured Northern cities where large-scale demolition was also being un-rolled, by coincidence of economic history and the demise of textile production in the region. The regeneration consortia have a commissioning agenda and PR budget focused on the need to mediate the developer’s aspirations. Anything else the community produces – well, the community will pay for. And pay they did.

After Parties

Cultural output from the broader community followed the net curtain. There was an extraordinary outbreak of unsolicited, unfunded and sometimes un-legal cultural intervention in and around the contested Welsh Streets. Playwrights, community theatre groups, poets, photographers, graffiti mongers, choirs, bands, filmmakers, animators, stitchers, photographers, seed-sowers and yarn bombers passed through the Welsh Streets each leaving a small mark. Mark of respect maybe. To residents each small work marked a small survival. Morale was super-boosted with every contribution. It blew over the road into Granby Four streets, who were, according to them, quite sparked up by the Welsh Streets tin sheet drawings and daffodil planting. They were to go creative in grand style - with paintings and planters that far exceeded our Welshie productions in scale and quality. 

The genius Granby neighbourhood campaigners founded a community market that included music, art, food and stalls. That meant a financial, social and cultural exchange mechanism was operating across two clearance sites, one on either side of Princes Avenue. It was a community, and it was art – but unique, self-directed and un-administered. We (that is, the Welsh Streets Home Group or WSHG) swapped campaign news, traded ideas and ran campaign events on stalls at the Granby Four Streets Market, at carnival, in Toxteth Town Hall, Toxteth TV and in the local shops and chippies. We had received local and national press for years, but nothing glued us together and drew us out and drew us together as well as culture did. A community of supporters had made themselves visible independently, creatively and repeatedly. The media coverage of threatened communities and their homes in the Welsh Streets was un-abated; four TV features supplemented considerable print and radio coverage.

Liverpool Biennial began projects in Anfield and Bootle, both areas stalked by the bulldozers. As the renowned Homebaked Anfield project went from strength to strength, TV foodie Jay Rayner arrived to judge a baking contest. I entered a loaf of bread in the bake off, for which I made special commemorative packaging. It was a throwaway thing. Merchandising survival. The wrapper read ‘RISE UP ANFIELD’ in red and ‘Greetings from the Welsh Streets’ in green. I took a picture and tweeted it. It pinged - appearing in ghost form when Liverpool Football Club used a similar wonky red text to repeat my slogan on a 12 x 24 ft hoarding outside the ground, opposite the Homebaked bakery. So Rise Up left the bread wrapper, travelled via social media and landed on the hoarding of (one of) our famous football club(s). You’re welcome L.F.C.

The full piece originally appeared in the Liverpool Biennial online journal ‘Stages’ #5 titled ‘Community Arts? Learning from the Legacy of Artists’ Social Initiatives’

Unfortunately the studio’s central location turned out to be too good to be true. At the beginning of 2017 the Crown Buildings along with neighbouring Grade II listed properties, the Jerome and Carlisle Buildings, were purchased by developers Signature Living with planning permission granted for a Luxury Hotel to compliment the one they built on the opposite side of the street the year before. A decade on from the European Capital of Culture award, increased investment and redevelopment of the city centre has called for new areas to emerge that allow for start-ups and grassroots initiatives. While this marginalisation of creative spaces from the city’s centre has its negatives, it has also assisted in creating more concentrated creative communities in areas like the Baltic Triangle, where CBS moved to in March 2017.

For CBS the move provided a welcome point of renewal. The new location on Blundell Street in an old dock warehouse had the space needed to house a workshop, enabling sculptural production and picture framing services in-house to create greater financial flexibility independent of public funding. The success of which has been enhanced by the studio’s integration in the local community of the Baltic Triangle and its proximity to a wider range of creative amenities.

As well as larger production space the new location offers a more generous gallery for the exhibition programme. The gallery acts as a space for the directors and studio holders to host a range of artistic projects, curatorial experiments and residency exhibitions. The continued advocacy of artists is the underpinning aim of the gallery’s activity. Artists who have previously exhibited are invited to submit artists’ editions to be sold via an online shop, providing support to the participating artists and the opportunity for people to collect the work of emerging artists.

Around the same time that CBS was founded Rory MacBeth was appointed as the new head of the art school at LJMU. This marked a new outward facing approach to the Fine Art course. Establishing graduate residencies with local artist-led studios as well as points throughout the three years of the course to collaborate and work with local art communities. In its second year at CBS the graduate residency is providing a crucial platform for graduates looking to stay in the city and continue working, contributing to the growth of the artist-led network in the city and further afield. 

The museum bares the name of its (German) founder Jochen Zeitz, one-time CEO of Puma and long-time African art collector. A substantial number of the museum’s items are drawn from Zeitz’s personal collection – reflected in the focus and feel of the museum’s permanent collection. Zeitz, in partnership with the V&A Waterfront management team, brought in UK-based designer Thomas Heatherwick to design the “public museum with a private collection”.  Schemes to encourage local visitors and widen access to art include free entry for under-18s daily as well as free entry for African citizens one day a week, although the international promotion of the museum and tourist-serving site it sits on means the museum instinctively feels beyond local.

A visit to the museum barely a month after opening finds a busy site of tourists and locals alike, staff dealing with teething problems (power cuts – not uncommon given the country’s over-stretched power grid – have restricted some of the works) and a shared excitement. A Capetonian museum guide shows a group of visitors around, stopping in one of the site’s gallery spaces. In between her description of the young artist’s work, the guide also speaks of knowing the artist personally and following her work since their school days. International as its foundations may be, Zeitz-MOCAA is working to bring art closer to home for many in Cape Town.

Melissa Meyer

This conceptual framework for a mapping of Aarhus resulted in an on-going and choreographed, but not planned or scheduled, performance as well as a series of photographs and inscriptions on the posters made by people following the instructions of the work as it guided them through the city. The composition was a way to connect people in different places, sharing information over the walkie-talkie with others on the same channel, but also a way to connect places with places, transferring a mark from one location to another.

Eric Andersen writes about the piece, ‘A city is an instrument that doesn’t always have to play the same phrases. City as Work involved the entire city as an interactive artwork, through which visitors and local population could enjoy quite different urban routes and activities than the common and worn out ones.’

In 2014, a new edition of Andersen’s work was presented as part of the exhibition Aarhus Rapport – Avantgarde as Network (or, the Politics of the  Ultralocal), initiated by curator Lars Bang Larsen and then-director of the Kunsthal Aarhus, Joasia Krysa. The exhibition was developed from the catalogue Århus Rapport, published in 1969 by Aarhus Art Society[1] in an attempt to document a number of happenings, exhibitions and concerts taking place in and around Aarhus during the years 1961-1969.

Printed on the inside covers of the original Århus Rapport are a number of photographs from Andersen’s project, contrasted by a black/white topographic map of the city of Aarhus on its outside. In other words, the map and images of specific sites of Aarhus are what holds together the different artistic practices documented inside the Rapport. It is an example of this ‘politics of the ultra-local,’ which curator Lars Bang Larsen pursued through his interrogation into the legacy, impact, and direction of the Aarhus (avant)-garde.

The 2014 exhibition presented a number of re-enactments, original 1960s-works and documentations, as well as new commissions taking the cue from the works and practices listed in the Rapport. All of this was displayed side by side, superimposing actual places and localities mentioned in the Rapport within the exhibition space of the Kunsthal. In this way the exhibition became in the same gesture a spatialisation of the book and a virtual representation of the Aarhus scene of experimentalart of the 1960s.  Moreover, the series  of contemporary responses to the history and figures of the rapport extended its map with new, possible sites to connect with.

In this year of Aarhus as European Capital of Culture, the city is being traversed, mapped, logged and networked again. 2017 also marks the centennial of Aarhus Art Building, now Kunsthal Aarhus, and for this occasion curator Trine Friis Sørensen has developed The Timeshare Project, which reflects contemporary ways to use the building and connect the institution to other institutions and concrete sites across the world. Friis Sørensen invited five international art institutions to visit Aarhus Kunsthal, using a part of the building as their workspace for a week each.  Like a timeshare holiday home, Kunsthal Aarhus will host five international art institutions in the spring of 2017. Each taking turn, they will present week-long curatorial and editorial projects in the Kunsthal’s octagonal exhibition space. Following these five visits, the institutions will produce individual publications, which constitute the project’s second timesharing format. By transporting the reader back to recent, distant or virtual pasts – or into the future, a publication effectively serves as a time machine that grants us access to other moments in time.

In 2017 Kunsthal Aarhus  celebrates its 100th anniversary. Where the Rapport may be seen as an attempt to  consolidate a legacy – and an archive – of the Kunsthal as institution, the Kunsthal of today seems to consider the implications of not being fixed to one particular space and place. By putting together the Århus Rapport, the Art Society of 1847 created an argument for making an institution proper, fusing the building with initiatives and activities. And one may argue, that by taking up this legacy of the Aarhus Rapport anno 2014, the activities of various associations and groups get linked to this particular place, announcing the Kunsthal as the true heir to the so-called Aarhus-garde.

The Timeshare Project may be a look towards the future – at least it transcends the narrow frame of the locale and invites to bridge geographical distances through new formats of sharing time and information. This of course is easier in our world of instant messaging, emailing and file sharing (as opposed to walkie-talkies and analogue photography). Then again, is it possible to get a sense of Aarhus – as particular places, distances, people, particular tastes – without going there? By actually traveling, we can put ourselves in the midst of experiencing something – and the documentation of events and stories told can then be inspiration for some time travelling.   

Anne Kølbæk Iversen

John Akomfrah is a British artist and filmmaker who is known for his engaging multi-layered film compositions, splicing archival footage with beautifully shot footage of his own. His previous films are characterized by themes including migration, memory, identity and race.

For more information, click here.

Hannah Martin

These ambitious plans for Gellerup encouraged people to live their lives in a particular way. These imaginings were, however, stalled by the oil crisis in 1973, making it “far too expensive” for people to live in Gellerup. As a result, the construction of the estate stopped short of the original scheme to house 15,000, eventually reduced down to provision for around 7,000 residents. As an alternative, people opted for cheap bank loans to build their own homes away from Gellerup. “At that time, this created the biggest area for parcelhuskvarter (suburbs) - little family houses with gardens and fences”.

As a result of this shift, many flats on the estate were left empty. “Gellerup had only been finished for a few years…what was built up to be a grand project was already declining”. The demographic of the estate “tended to be people who were not money strong”, Anne explains.

Driving to the Gellerup Museum, Anne discusses how the estate became as culturally diverse as it is today. “In the 1970’s there were quite a lot of Turkish people who came for work, in the 80’s we had a large group from Palestine, and in the 90’s there was a big group from Somalia.” Describing the challenges of socially integrating these diverse groups within the city, Anne notes, “this island became a huge problem because suddenly you had totally other cultures - Denmark is not that big, Aarhus is not that big and it was very difficult to cope with that. It had become a parallel environment”. In the 1970’s, a large student population was drawn to Gellerup to rent large flats cheaply and to be part of the area’s vibrant underground scene. Standing in the living room space of the Gellerup Museum, Anne reflects on the changing appeal of the area: “Gellerup was the hot stuff at the time…now students want to live here again!”

Gellerup Museum itself is a once- empty flat, now preserved as a museum for the estate. Anne describes the museum as a “showroom” which contains the original fit out from the 1970s, and provides a space to curate exhibitions that prompt discussions about Gellerup and the surrounding area.

What of Gellerup today? ‘They want to make it attractive to make people come out and see what is happening here…they are trying to penetrate the area to make it easier to travel in and out of Gellerup and connect it to the rest of Aarhus”. Anne is describing the vision of the current Gellerup Masterplan, which is being implemented over a twenty-year period to be completed in 2030. The plan, led by a collaboration between the housing association Brabrand Boligforening and the City of Aarhus, aims to introduce a mix of different uses to Gellerup including office space, shops and culture to ensure the area does not remain “exclusively residential”. The proposed masterplan has prompted some demolition of the existing housing blocks as well as a considerable amount of retention.

Anne explains the plans have been built up to bring a “big change” to the area, but that scheme has encountered challenges, particularly with the existing residents. When asked about resident reactions to the masterplan, Anne replies, “Curiosity. Hopefulness and despair.” She continues, “’What is this?’ they want to know…many have lots of questions about the change. It can be difficult for those who live within the big changes to see things positively.” 

‘Never Demolish!’

Andreas & Ilka Ruby with Lacaton & Vassal

In the 1960s and 1970s, large-scale housing complexes were built all over the world as a bold solution to satisfy the need for housing. Five decades later they are largely considered as ideologically outdated, urbanistically failed, and ripe for demolition. Against this backdrop ‘Never Demolish’ claims that these projects can have a second life that’s better than their first, through sensible renovation – enlarging the spaces and improving living standards. The exhibition features the spectacular transformation of 530 dwellings across three high-rise buildings of the Cité du Grand Parc in Bordeaux, France designed by the architectural offices of Lacaton & Vassal, Frédéric Druot and Christophe Hutin as a potential model for the social and physical rehabilitation of the mass-housing estates of modernism.

The Never Demolish exhibition, curated by Ilka and Andreas Ruby for the Copenhagen Architecture Festival 2017, presents this project for the first time in Denmark, addressing architects, urban planners, developers, heritage conservationists, and politicians alike. To help facilitate a discussion about the proposal in light of the current Danish housing situation, the exhibition is staged at two different sites: the gallery SPACE10 in Copenhagen and the Gellerup Museum in Aarhus.

The second venue, inside Gellerup Museum aims to view the potential of this transformation in a wider context by placing the exhibition in a similar surrounding to the one in Bordeaux: Gellerup, site of the largest modernist housing development in Denmark.

Built in the 1960s as a solution to growing post-war housing demand, the high-rise complex was conceived to function as a satellite city of Aarhus for middle-class Danish residents. However, the concentration of mono-functional residential estates outside of the city with little urban infrastructure produced a ghettoisation effect, resulting in the social segregation of residents with a predominately migrant background. The ensuing socio-economic issues and the negative image associated with the area prompted the demolition of five blocks in the complex, meaning that 300 dwellings out of 2500 have been already been displaced.

Taking place in a converted former apartment in one of the high-rise buildings, which now serves as a museum for the community, the exhibition stages a maximum transformation with minimum means. Life -size images of views into and from the winter garden fill the entire walls of the exhibition space. These not only simulate the living spaces in Grand Parc, they also give the impression that the space of the museum extends beyond the physical boundaries of the 4 x 11 metre room. Mirroring the transformation at Grand Parc, the interior of the building is given new value through a process of addition that is characterized by spatial generosity.

This overlay of two contexts – of Bordeaux and Gellerup – attests to the wider spatial and cultural implications that this type of transformation can have, ultimately changing the iconography and cultural image with which these estates are nowadays associated.

‘Never demolish!’ exhibition credits

Transformation of 530 dwellings in Bordeaux by Lacaton & Vassal, Druot, Hutin

Photos by Philippe Ruault

Curated by Ilka & Andreas Ruby