To truly know a place
Rick is a local poet and maker, and one of Dudley’s Time Rebels. In response to the invitation to explore ways that we might unlock imagination and nurture long-term thinking in Dudley, Rick co-designed an experiment with other Time Rebels, grown around his love of poetry. In a previous lab note he introduced this experiment; Poetry of Place
Below Rick shares a shift in perspective which came about following his experiment leading to him being consistently present on Dudley High Street. Sitting and observing High Street life had an unexpected effect.
A need to be visible
When I started off on this journey about writing poems that referred to specific places, I was drawn by a love of makers spaces; the spare rooms, garden sheds, studios and dining room tables of people that I had come across doing incredibly creative things in a variety of different spaces. I had started a slow-burn project responding and gifting poems to makers and artists who allowed me the privilege to glimpse behind the net curtains and see where they worked and how the space inspired their arts and crafts.
When my Time Rebel idea started to form in my head, it strongly referenced this project and the idea that the spaces on the High Street would also have some intrinsic allure, if only I could see past the shop fronts. The basic principle remained the same — to gift a poem for the story of their enterprise, but what turned out was something wholly different and quite unexpected.
After discussion with the CoLab team and people previously engaged in working in social practice on this part of the High Street, it was obvious that I couldn’t just approach the businesses from cold, offer up the writing of a poem and not be laughed out back into the street. There was a need to be visible and to engage with the High Street on a much more intimate level before I could go seeking permission to write about their place of work. At this stage, it became obvious that I would need to commit fully to be present on the High Street, consistent in my approach and only after that personal commitment would I be able to expect a level of acceptance from those around me.
Sitting and observing had an unexpected effect
In early summer, after the Covid situation allowed some level of interaction between people, I set up a table outside the CoLab space and offered passers-by the chance to write a simple, structured poem about Dudley Town. The idea was to create a poetry paperchain of short poems about how people saw their town as it is today. This exercise would then be repeated over the weekend of Do Fest with a focus then on the Dudley of the Future. Again, I used a simple structure so as not to scare people off writing poems and to make it an enjoyable and engaging event. All the while, I was making myself visible to the shop keepers and business owners around me, so that when I later came to offer them a poem, they knew who I was and what I was about.
This process of sitting and observing, as well as interacting with complete strangers, had an unexpected effect. Prior to doing this, I was like a lot of people who viewed this part of the town as a place to rush through to get to somewhere slightly more appealing. It is a run-down part of town. Shops are boarded up, there are frequent instances of anti-social behaviour on the street, it is noisy with the traffic and has a general feeling of being quite a hostile environment. There isn’t on the surface it seems, much to make people come and stay here for an extended period and little for visitors to the town to seek out.
But while I sat outside the CoLab space and watched and listened and interacted with people, my perspective shifted. This spot was a place where locals did come and sit and congregate, meet friends for a coffee and sit and chat. The Kurdish community that have opened shops and businesses here, frequently meet up to smoke and chat, a cultural norm from their homeland, which has now found a new place in Dudley. Regulars shop in this part of the town, come to use the building society, go for a drink in the pub and spend time up and down the street. I began to appreciate that people were curious and wanted to spend the time of day to ask about what I was doing, take part or just stop for a chat. Even those that were not interested or passed comment without stopping, did so in a way that was laced with humour and completely free of confrontation. It was as though they were taking part by commentating rather than by writing.
I noticed the difference the weather made to people’s attitudes and behaviours. Warm weather bought smiles and chatter, but the colder days left people reluctant to stop and engage — in no way aggressive, but just wanting to move on and get through the day. This may not seem that surprising, but until you sit and observe people in their own environment, you miss the subtleties that influence people’s lives and the way they interact with each other.
To truly know a place…
I have come to see that to truly know a place and the people that live and work there, you need to spend time and commit energy to really seeing it at the ground level. Sit on a bench for a whole day, do it again the next week and the week after that and you will soon see the patterns of behaviour, the daily routines, the effect of the weather, the camaraderie, the humour, the essence of a place. It will make you feel and think differently about that space, your high street, or the street you live on. It will give you a sense of ownership and inclusion, especially if you engage with people in that place and make an effort to see it from their viewpoint.
As I closed out on writing poems for the businesses and shops, this sense of inclusion and ownership was fully reinforced by their longing to be able to shape this High Street more than they feel they can. They believe they are a part of the town, even if they have just been there for a short period and they want the town to thrive and reinvent itself, to prosper again and to regain its sense of pride.
I shall shortly be returning to the shops that wanted a poem, to hand over my gift and have a chat. Their reaction will be interesting, but not the most important thing for me, because I know the power that poetry can hold when it is given freely and without expectation. I hope that they like what I have done, that it feels to them like a true and honest reflection of the conversations we had or the time I spent watching the world go by in their space. I hope that it gives them a different perspective on how people see them and the job they do, the service they offer and the value they add to a community. I really hope that they see a different way of doing things, that they too can make changes, be creative and reshape the space and the town around them.
