- Venue
- The Rea Garden.
- Location
- West Midlands
Engulfed by nature and lost to the city of Birmingham for almost twenty years The Rea Garden in Digbeth has now entered a new and more prosperous stage in its evolution. Reformed by creative trio, Arlene Burnett, Paul Newman and Leon Trimble, the site was opened to the public in 2008 as a space to cultivate and display artistic talent. At the turn of each season a new artist occupies the space, tackling the challenges of working in exposed conditions and to a schedule controlled by sunlight.
Arriving in September, Hannah Hull was the fifth artist to inhabit the space. Avid speculation, prompted by Hull’s past artistic oeuvre, gave birth to predictions that paint would re-shape the site. Having recently completed a series of untitled works, in which luminous paint was meticulously applied to sections of overlooked features, I eagerly awaited the revelation process to commence.
Entering The Rea Garden three weeks before Hull’s residency was to conclude, I was surprised to see that the insignificant features populating the garden remained ignored. There was neither sight nor smell of paint. In fact there was very little physical indication of the artist’s productivity at all. I questioned what Hannah had been creating for two months. Whilst a newly dug hole marked an afternoon of activity, and the number of cigarettes rolled, lit and smoked, provided a measure for the time spent at the site, I struggled to identify what the artist’s creative output was.
Armed with a packet of Hobnobs to share around the log burner, I introduced myself to the artist, ready to uncover what she was planning to exhibit. It was there however that I made my second, incorrect assumption about the artist, as she did not intend to bring anything tangible to the site at all. For whilst Hannah Hull is a public artist, and her creations are always site-specific, her intent is not resolute on producing an object for admiration. Her work can be an action. It can also be a conversation. Above all however, it always invites public participation. And, in this particular case, the audience came to be invited in the most literal sense.
A fortnight after my meeting with the artist, an invitation to a memorial service arrived through the post. It was for the funeral of The Site, set to take place at The Rea Garden on Sunday 29th November. Now, from previous experiences, I have come to understand that people react to death in different ways, and on this occasion I don’t mind confessing that I failed to shed a tear. Perhaps it was the shock, for I was in The Site’s company only a couple of weeks before. Nonetheless, it was a surreal situation and more so, on the morning of the ceremony when dressed in black I set off to The Rea Garden.
Greeted by the artist, at the gates adorned with flowers, I received the Order of Service and joined the congregation surrounding the lectern. Officiated by artist historian, Ben Waddington, in the relentless pouring rain, he admirably set the tone of the service; respectful, stirring and genuine.
Complying with tradition, the ceremony opened with a eulogy focusing on the identity of the site. Following the evolution of Digbeth from the primitive “dyke path”, that ran alongside the River Rea, to the grand industrial centre of Birmingham, the congregation learnt that although built for purpose, the site’s identity had continuously shifted in response to societies demands. Home to Philips records in the sixties, and then a draper in the seventies, in 1993 the site suffered an untimely death caused by fire.
I’m sure many of you will agree that this is not a particularly enthralling history. Indeed, the artist acknowledged early on in her residency that the majority of locals consider the area as a site of no specific interest, both unfamiliar and unknown. The artist also recognized, however, that since the reopening of the site, those who had passed through had come with sensitivity to the strong feelings there. It was exactly those people who formed the congregation on the day of the funeral.
Reading the reflections of the chief mourners, Arlene Burnett, spoke about her own relationship with the site, established through cultivating the wilderness while capturing movement with a pin-hole camera. Moving on to recount the affiliation formed between other resident artists and the garden, the congregation heard about Anne Guest’s evenings alone in The Rea Garden catching moths. The pattern of working in the darkness allowed her to experience the city in a way she hadn’t previously. Whilst in comparison, Paul Newman’s connection to the garden was very physical. He watched the space soften itself after the shipping containers, installed for the first project, were removed.
The combination of memories, relations and associations with the site swiftly dissolved my initial worries and reservations. For this was not a staged performance with a pre-determined ending. It was a familiar ritual saturated with meaning. The structure of the ceremony triggered thoughts of my own connections to the site. Realizing how the congregation, of which I was a part of, had affected the site in the past, highlighted how the site had also affected us in return.
In hindsight a funeral was not such a bizarre choice of ceremony, especially when considering the status of the site, teetering on the edge of public memory. Yet death was not the overriding factor that emerged from the memorial. Looking back over the history fueled the desire to move forward. And the large number of people that gathered to mourn the site’s death conversely symbolized its life. The resurrection of interest marked the regeneration of activity, and as a result the ceremony stimulated a re-consideration of our modes of perception, not only of the funeral but more importantly the site.
Hannah Hull’s residency at The Rea Garden exemplified that her artwork is not just art in a public place, or an off-beat space. The work she produced acutely relied on the area for more than its natural resources. It depended upon a carefully selected audience, chosen for their local involvement with the site, thus making it sensitively site-specific. This artwork can not be reproduced by the same people, elsewhere, or in the same place with other people.
Re-visiting the site, after the passing on the ceremony, the hole which Hannah dug now represents the depths she uncovered within the garden. The revealed shards of shellac from the site’s previous utility displace associations of dereliction with a new appreciation of its identity.
Through reconciling the past with the present, Hannah Hull’s residency exhibited that nothing is ever truly disposed: whether living in bricks, in memory or in gesture.
“And we are standing among ruins. They demand nothing but ask everything.”
[Hannah Hull]
