Heading off back town-wards, the exertions of the afternoon are taking their toll and the group starts to straggle out along the pavements and roadsides, slowly pulling us apart. Traffic lights and zebra crossings don’t help the group cohesion and before too long we’re taking up a lot of pavement space in our Journey of Discovery towards the next Globe Sculpture by Richard Rawlins (theme: A Complex Triangle Indeed).
Located in Orton Square which is bordered by Curve Theatre, Leicester Athena, St George’s Church and the Exchange Building (Leicester’s very own answer to New York’s Flat Iron building), Rawlin’s work is a sculpture which pulls you up sharply with its combination of direct text and images. If you’ve ever caught yourself saying ‘these things aren’t black and white’ this sculpture and its texts insist that on the contrary, things are very much black and white – and shades of grey too.
Imagine a conversation between Orton and Rawlins taking place in the Exchange Buildings. Orton might start with this from Loot:
Truscott: Why aren’t you both at the funeral? I thought you were mourners.
Fay: We decided not to go. We were afraid we might break down.
Truscott: That’s a selfish attitude to take. The dead can’t bury themselves, you know.
Or if neither of these is possible (and heaven knows we’re all in tough financial times right now), then anything you can do to share and shout about the campaign would be equally welcomed and appreciated.
We march on from Medway Community Primary School dodging the prams, pushchairs, school buses and young children and parents who are now doing their own dodging of the traffic. It’s ‘School’s Out!’ time and the street has become a flurry of activity all the way down to the Highfields Centre where we encounter the next Globe Sculpture on The World Reimagined trail. Created by Marcus Dove, it’s theme is ‘Abolition and Emancipation’ and is located just outside the offices of the Race Equality Centre which is now based at the Centre.
The Centre itself is a significant presence in the landscape but you never quite know how significant it is until you’re inside. Complete with recording studios, art rooms, performance spaces and meeting rooms galore the Centre is a veritable Tardis.
Their call to action: “Enhancing Lives, Empowering Communities, Enterprise For All” is a Tradis-type call too: a big, inclusive dynamic ambition summed in just seven words.
We’re mindful of the flow of young people heading our way and our call to continue our Journey of Discovery so we wave a silent farewell to Fatima and Aaron who have kindly come out to see us and figure out what on earth is going on. Showing them our orange badges isn’t having impact on them either so we shrug, wave good-bye and some how gesticulate that we’ll be in touch with them again soon. They seem bemused by it all but send us off in good cheer. Next stop: the sculpture at Orton Square.
Or if neither of these is possible (and heaven knows we’re all in tough financial times right now), then anything you can do to share and shout about the campaign would be equally welcomed and appreciated.
Every step of the way away from Victoria Park takes us into a journey of discovery of the community of Highfields where we reach the Globe Sculpture of Lou Boyce (theme: Stolen Legacy: the Rebirth of a Nation) placed next to Medway Community Primary School in St. Stephens Road.
We notice how noticed we are becoming as we make our journey: people stare at us as we straggle along the streets in silence, looking at our phones or checking the paper maps that one or two of us have. One shop keeper comes out to ask what we’re doing, and we show him the orange badge, point to the QR code and he takes this as a sign that we are a group interested in nature.
We get the impression that there aren’t many times when a group like us stroll down these streets, looking suspiciously like tourists. Whilst these streets may offer you security and a place to hang your hat and settle down, they wouldn’t necessarily be your first choice as a tourist destination.
The Highfields Remembered website hosted by DMU University provides greater knowledge of the area than we learn from our journey of discovery into the area, and reminds us that since the early 20th century Highfields has often become the home of new communities: Jewish, Polish, Latvian, Caribbean, and East African:
“In 200 years, Highfields has grown from a sparsely-populated rural area to the thriving multicultural community it is today. All the communities which have settled, either staying or moving on, have made a contribution to the area’s development, leaving a legacy of thriving mosques, temples, churches, shops and other secular buildings.”
We arrive at the location of the Globe Sculpture at Medway Community Primary School where the school’s concerns about slavery are evident through its website. Again, this is not a matter of dry, distant historical interest but is a live issue which families face in the here and now:
Modern slavery is the severe exploitation of other people for personal or commercial gain. Modern slavery is all around us, but often just out of sight. People can become entrapped making our clothes, serving our food, picking our crops, working in factories, or working in houses as cooks, cleaners or nannies.
They are also explicit about the differences between child work, child labour and child slavery:
Child work: Some types of work make useful, positive contributions to a child’s development, helping them learn useful skills. Often, work is also a vital source of income for their families.
Child labour: Child labour is not slavery, but nevertheless hinders children’s education and development. Child labour tends to be undertaken when the child is in the care of their parents. Hazardous work” is the worst form of child labour. It irreversibly damages children’s health and development through, for example, exposure to dangerous machinery or toxic substances, and may even endanger their lives.
Child slavery: Child slavery is the enforced exploitation of a child for someone else’s gain, meaning the child will have no way to leave the situation or person exploiting them.
Child trafficking: Trafficking involves transporting, recruiting or harbouring people for the purpose of exploitation, using violence, threats or coercion. When children are trafficked, no violence, deception or coercion needs to be involved, trafficking is merely the act of transporting or harbouring them for exploitative work.
The school also recognises that child marriage can also obscure what are in reality cases of slavery or slavery-like practices, being clear that child marriage can be referred to as slavery, if one or more of the following elements are present:
* If the child has not genuinely given their free and informed consent to enter the marriage
* If the child is subjected to control and a sense of “ownership” in the marriage itself, particularly through abuse and threats and is exploited by being forced to undertake domestic chores within the marital home or labour outside it, and/or engage in non-consensual sexual relations
* If the child cannot realistically leave or end the marriage, leading potentially to a lifetime of slavery.
But their focus is not just on the impact of slavery on children but also on the impact on adults and families and the causes of slavery:
Forced labour is any work or service which people are forced to do against their will, under threat of punishment. Almost all slavery practices contain some element of forced labour….
… Forced labour happens in the context of poverty, lack of sustainable jobs and education, as well as a weak rule of law, corruption and an economy dependent on cheap labour.
We bade farewell to Medway Community Primary School, thankful that it offers a sanctuary for children and their families against the tyrannies of slavery and enslavement. Next stop: Highfields Community Centre and its relationship with the fashion workers of Leicester.
Or if neither of these is possible (and heaven knows we’re all in tough financial times right now), then anything you can do to share and shout about the campaign would be equally welcomed and appreciated.
We take on New Walk at pace past the shishy offices, university buildings and comfortable hotel offers, with barely a glance to TheClothier, a marble statue made by John Atkin to commemorate the legacy of Leicester’s clothing industry in 2010. According to the Friends of New Walk website,
“From 1970 onwards the industry was in decline, but in the last few years there have been indications of a slow rebirth. Manufacturing is growing slowly in the hands of new investors and locally-based retailers, such as Next, Bodens and Joules, have shown that textiles are still very much a Leicester industry.”
Nothing showed us that as clearly as the garment industry scandal which emerged in Leicester during the Covid-19 lockdowns. In July 2020, the city’s dirty “open secret”of underpaid workers in Leicester’s garment industry was dragged out of its silence.
The retail giant Boohoo were implicated in contracting with suppliers who ‘employed’ workers in unsafe conditions, forcing them to come to work even when ill with coronavirus.
Boohoo found itself at the centre of a media storm when came to light as some of their suppliers were accused of modern slavery. But they were by no means the exception: the authorities’ efforts to stamp out bad practice in many employers have consistently failed over many years.
As you walk on past De Montford Hall to see the work of Natasha Muluswela, another potent kick of ‘history’ makes itself felt: the hall takes its name from the late Simon de Montfort, after whom Leicester’s De Montfort University was also named. The university acknowledges the potency of this naming on its website:
While Simon de Montfort is remembered chiefly for his achievements as an architect of and campaigner for a representative parliament – achievements which originally inspired DMU to take his name – it is argued, too, that he bears responsibility for the persecution of Jewish people because in 1231 Montfort issued a charter expelling Leicester’s Jewish community in an overtly anti-Semitic act.
Fortunately, resistance isn’t futile but is alive and kicking not just through the DMU Students Union but also through the work of the Fashion-workers Advice Bureau Leicester (FAB-L) based in Highfields which is fighting back against modern day employment slavery practices. It’s where we head to next as the afternoon’s temperature continues to drop and the autumn leaf slush makes the journey discovery a little more treacherous, step by step.
This walk is not just about visiting 10 Globe Sculptures on an art trail: you’re reminded every step of the way of the necessity of The World Reimagined programme. The history of enslaved Africans isn’t just someone else’s history, it’s our history. And it’s not just our his-story or her-story: it’s our here-and-now-story.
Or if neither of these is possible (and heaven knows we’re all in tough financial times right now), then anything you can do to share and shout about the campaign would be equally welcome and appreciated.
The morning team TMC mute session finishes just before 2pm and following some loud closing of laptops, shuffling of chairs and waves across the office, we’ve all gathered down in Rutland Street to explore the Globe Sculptures on the trail of The World Reimagined. Our Orange Mighty Unmute badges are prominent on our coats, and we’re determined to show them to anyone who’s interested, albeit in silence.
The World Reimagined is billed as “a Journey of Discovery to transform how we understand the Transatlantic Trade in Enslaved Africans and its impact on all of us, so that we can make justice a reality.”
So we head over first to the Globe Sculpture made by artist Laura-Kate Pontefract, inspired by the theme Mother Africa, being shown at Leicester Station.
Except it’s not there: we discover that the rail dispute has led to the globe being moved over to Leicester’s New Walk. The doors to the station are locked, there’s no sign of the globe and the only significant signage is a notification from East Midlands Railway about the station’s closure.
Outside the station, we wave to the members of picket line who wave back and show some interest in our orange Mighty Unmute badges although no-one steps up to snap the QR code on the badges. One missed fundraising moment silently passes us by.
Somewhere in the back of my memory, I’m reminded of the links between the railways and the transatlantic trade in enslaved Africans but as we’re all on mute for the day, that conversation will have to wait for another time. One missed understanding moment silently passes us by.
We continue at pace to where Laura-Kate Pontefract’s Globe Sculpture is located at New Walk. Within close proximity to the second globe on the trail by Roy Meats. (theme: The Reality of Being Enslaved) the effect of the globes is audible. Our muteness becomes even quieter and our silence even noisier.
We stare, we read, we reflect, we genuflect. One passer by looks at us quizzically and tries asking us what we’re doing and what the globes are about. We direct his stare to our orange badges but he’s in a hurry and won’t be hanging around to find out. He sees the word ‘mute’ on them and thinks that’s a reason for him not to talk to us any more so he hurries off after his walking partner. One missed understanding moment silently passes him by.
But it’s soon time for us to move on to the third Globe Sculpture up in Victoria Park. The autumn chill is finding its way into our joints and we still have a lot of walking to do.
Or if neither of these is possible (and heaven knows we’re all in tough financial times right now), then anything you can do to share and shout about the campaign would be equally welcome and appreciated.
It’s an odd start to our Mighty UnMute Day; usually you’d drive into town and keep muted until you park up, walk to the entry doors which someone opens for you and you hold back from thanking them and you get micro-glimpse of what it is to silence yourself. Rude Man! Someone is probably thinking right now.
You walk over to Gray’s café where you interact by pointing, gesticulating, a thumbs up when the server remembers your usual order and semi-normal service is resumed. Cappuccino in hand, it’s up to the office, trying to avoid any awkward conversations which could involve more complex signage, gesticulations and strangers getting the wrong idea.
In the office, everyone’s heads are down, getting on with it. People look away, concentrating on screens, post, spreadsheets. Laptops are tapping away, unaware of the need to be mute. Rubbish shifts, furniture scrapes. The inanimate speak ever loudly, immune to a call for silence.
You try anything to fill the silence: a conversation attempted in charade like gestures soon evaporates when you can’t figure out the charade symbols for hol-i-day. I resort to digging the headphones out of my laptop bag and the noisy silence is replaced with something more melodic, urgent, meaningful.
At lunch, you weigh up how difficult it is going to be to be able order something to eat something which is beyond a coke and a burger. Your first choice is to go straight to an automated MacDonalds pay station which asks you no questions, you tell it no lies and in theory you can type in anything you want to. Unless there’s no spare ordering station, so it’s back out into the street weighing up the options again. You opt for safety and familiarity; they know you back at Grays and they’ll be sympathetic to the campaign, so you can point at a menu, make the finger sign for tea and get on with it.
Back to the office and some others have gone off to negotiate lunch, the photocopier is in full swooshing swing and there’s an odd laugh or rustle of a packet of crisps. A lever arch file snapped shut.
Listen more often to things than to beings springs to mind, and whilst I did have a vague idea about listening to the furniture at some point today, I opted for safety first this morning with the headphones so hadn’t encountered the challenge of listening to the tables and chairs. Although my back has, and it’s not especially happy with the chairs it is being asked to communicate with.
Do things speak more vociferously now we’re in the office and have the time to listen to them with more intent? I’m looking at a bookcase which was part of the Without Walls event of a couple of weeks ago and wonder what that’s saying right now?
It’s got a quirky little lamp and shade on top of it; a top row of books, a couple of picture frames and looks like it’s been covered with off cuts of newspapers or wrapping paper. 4 of the 6 shelves are empty. They’ve been unpacked and its waiting to go? Or have just arrived and waiting to be filled up?
I’m reminded of the story on the radio this morning about the parable of looking at 11 roses through a garden gate: the premise is that that wherever you stand, you’ll never see them all at once and you’ll never get the whole picture or story.
So much for listening to things more often than to beings on this occasion. My muteness just encourages the furniture to provide even more complex, noisier messaging than listening to the people who occasionally sit in those chairs.
Or if neither of these is possible (and heaven knows we’re all in tough financial times right now), then anything you can do to share and shout about the campaign would be equally welcome and appreciated.
Terry, a big Scouse presence appears as if by magic on the floor of an imposing, oaken school library dressed in the hybrid clothing of part teacher gown, part trainer top, part designer trousers and complete black and white brogues.
Looking out at the wintery skyscape, Terry takes to the floor with ease and an in-your-face energy from which there is no shirking. The wooden panels of the walls stare back at him with their air of sobriety and gravitas, waiting for the scouser to show his true colours. Blue or (well) red?
The seats and tables are shoved back to the walls, giving him the floor space which he takes to like a duck to proverbial, slurping out of his bottle of noisy water, telling me about the fecundity of the group’s work from the previous week. An awkward gaggle of angular faces, beaks and folded arms look on and I’m reminded that despite all the experience in the world, you never know what you’re going to face: all the preparation, all the theory, all the lesson plans, all the tricks and tips and turn ons is fine but… in the end…. you’ ve got a line of expectations, gazes, hopes, resentments, gaps, blank minds, active minds fidgeting just waiting for you, for someone, for something to switch them on….
He confides in the assembled Leekettes that “this is a special day kid – chrimbo next week” and follows up with an impromtpu solo improvisation about his own experiences of education and the resistances he encountered: “what are you going to night school for, you poof?” before launching into the session properby reading some of his own poetry, a love poem about a boy and girl on Wigan Pier.
He meets and is met by the group’s gaze.
Before we can complete the school electronic register, we’re sailing through some turbulent performance poetry at 9.45 in the morning to boot. “How can you have more than one heart?”
Moving onto some early morning workshop games, Terry introduces the group to a trust exercise which is premised on the simple rule that one player has to be guided through a maze of plastic glasses on the floor with instructions called from the other side of the room. One simple rule is all it takes for the group to be up on the floor, wrestling, challenging, getting on with getting on, laughing, joking, defiling the solitude of the normally hallowed walls, breaking the rules of what it is to be and behave in a library.
Straight into a flip chart exercise, the rule being to complete the phrase, ‘I want to be the first…’ “I want to be the first whisper first heard by a deaf man.’
Momentarily, we’re all stunned. But we move on and gloss over. How do we acknowledge, value that moment produced by a young lad who looks as bemused at his contribution as the rest of us who have just registered it?
A huge question but not followed through. For all the talk about personalised learning in the classroom, can we ever have the wherewithal to respond to moments of beauty that don’t entail ticking off an outcome within the confines of a cell in an excel spreadsheet?
Back to the rules. Rule 1: it can’t be wrong, whatever you write. Followed by a quick exercise: complete the following phrase: In case of… X then Y. Rule 2: the last word starts the next line: but remember Rule 1: all answers are equally valuable “it doesn’t matter what you say, it can’t be wrong…” he urges. Rule 3: the first line and last line have to be the same, “like a jigsaw puzzle: ironically meaning that the final rule negates the principle of Rule 1. But we’re not worried as we frantically scribble, trying our best to fill that empty page of lined paper.
In the fluidity of the writer, child, teacher relationship, the writer establishes the rules, yet breaks them rapidly, easily, without consternation or complaint. “It can’t be wrong, you’re the author”.
From the transience of the writer’s rule setting regime an essence emerges of a kind of super-author who makes and breaks the rules for his apprentices, his minor authors. Through the walls he drifts, from the floor he rises: the meta-author, the author of authors. Welcome to the world of the writer in residence.
The Mighty Creatives staff team are going to support the campaign by taking part in the Mighty (UN)Mute, a day-long vow of silence, on the 5th October. If you want to join us on the day and take a vow of silence, then pleasecheck out the campaign here.
Of if the thought of donating your silence for 24 hours is really too much, then you can donate your hard-earned disposable income here.
Or if neither of these is possible (and heaven knows we’re all in tough financial times right now), then anything you can do to share and shout about the campaign would be equally welcome and appreciated.
So… come and help me to shut up, once and for all. You know you want to.
The Mighty (Un)Mute takes place on Wednesday, so I’ll be off-grid all day, well and truly shut up.
In case you missed it, the team at The Mighty Creatives and I are taking part in a day-long vow of silence to raise awareness of young voices that so often go unheard – and to raise vital funds for a ground-breaking arts education project that fights for racial justice.
We’ve got a team goal of £5,000 and every donation counts. You can learn more and donate online before I seal my lips, switch off the email, stop the WhatsApping and throw away the passwords!
Of if the thought of donating your silence for 24 hours is really too much, then you can donate your hard-earned disposable income here.
Or if neither of these is possible (and heaven knows we’re all in tough financial times right now), then anything you can do to share and shout about the campaign would be equally welcome and appreciated.
So… come and help me to shut up, once and for all. You know you want to.
I’m watching a visiting artist, Lisa, in a Year 6 class with the teacher, Sally, present one Friday afternoon. Lisa has started a project on Wilberforce, making a model slave ship, an African village and delivering a percussion project. She kicks off asking who Wilberforce is and what slavery is.
She introduces the task of making a slave ship which the class will show at the end of the week as part of an impressive piece of work. “We’re going to make a slave ship out of pipe cleaners and mudroc” she announces.
Lisa demonstrates how to make a figure out of mudroc and pipe cleaners and takes questions as she goes. Little slave figures made from pipe cleaners. “We don’t want arms sticking out, they should be down at the side”. She sets up a little production line by asking them to make 2 or 3 figures each. The class is set on a task of making about 50 – 75 different slave figures between them. “Mould the pipe cleaner, cut up mudroc, soak it, wrap it, repeat”.
As pipe cleaner figures start emerging, a few laughs are generated by children – feet are either too big or heads too small. “He’s hop-along… what’s happened to his arms… mine’s called Gordon, mine’s Edmund… this one’s paraplegic”.
Groups work semi-independently, Sally the teacher is engaged in co-delivery of the session, moving from one table to another as Lisa does. “Wrap the mudroc tightly around the skeleton otherwise it will fall off”. Perhaps it would have been closer to the truth to make people figures who had homes first and who were then enforced into slavery – channelling the pupil’s enthusiasm for the figures to its advantage rather than opt for making slaves from the beginning.
The production line aspect of this approach echoes the values which make the slave trade possible. We’re not making a character which has a personal connection to its sculptor. There’s one black lad in the class who is joining in with all the activities; a small crowd of white mud roc figures starts being assembled; some of which are splendid creations, others of which are not so splendid….
The project continues through the afternoon, with no time for play time which means for some pupils that making slaves out of pipe cleaners is becoming a bit of drudgery. The figures are now to be painted black, to represent the figures seen in the picture at the start of the session.
Blackened mudroc figures start to appear on tabletops and are taken to the window ledge to dry; of course, they’re various in shape, size and coverage of black paint – but they are still faceless and the products of several cheerful production lines. No shades of black, brown or tone… End of class, and Lisa moves the furniture back to where it started before I entered the classroom.
The figures are to be placed in the slave boat which is to be built tomorrow.
This classroom observation opened up some key questions about how we approach the histories of the slave trade, not the least of them being how we can provide a different educational perspective which doesn’t rely on ‘pipe cleaners and mudroc’ to make its point.
(Photo credit: The World Reimagined Sculpture Trails: 103 unique globes across the UK exploring the history, legacy and future of the Transatlantic Trade in Enslaved Africans through the work of incredible artists.)
The Mighty Creatives staff team are going to support the campaign by taking part in the Mighty (UN)Mute, a day-long vow of silence, on the 5th October. If you want to join us on the day and take a vow of silence, then pleasecheck out the campaign here.
Of if the thought of donating your silence for 24 hours is really too much, then you can donate your hard-earned disposable income here.
Or if neither of these is possible (and heaven knows we’re all in tough financial times right now), then anything you can do to share and shout about the campaign would be equally welcome and appreciated.
So… come and help me to shut up, once and for all. You know you want to.
You’re in a meeting; it’s bumbling along; minutes are handed out and people frown and glare or pass out in the heat of the moment. There’s mutterings under breaths; there’s sighs, grunts and the occasional fart. Everyone’s been shut up and the meeting’s been shut down.
But some bright spark says ‘what we need is a creative something something something‘ and suddenly the whole room has lit up in technicolour: the sighs become shouts, the grunts become groans of delight and the farts metamorphose into sounds of rejoicing: the whoopee cushion is something we all want to sit on now the creativity cat is out of the bag.
Because make no mistake: dropping the ‘c’ word into any meeting is bound to galvanise your workforce, impress your investors and stoke up the heat of admiration upon you. It doesn’t matter what the ‘something something something’ is, the fact that you’ve introduced the ‘c’ word to your proposal is what’s fired up the meeting.
In the olden days we would have used the words ‘magic’ and the effect would have been the same. These days, ‘creativity’ replaces the word for ‘magic’ and the world becomes a far happier place as a result, if only for a short time.
So, if in future you’re feeling shut down, shut up or just stuck in an oppressive silence, just drop the word ‘creative’ into proceedings and see your colleagues grow wings and fly to the heavens. They may not last long up there as they get too close to the sun, but they will thank you for liberating them from their non-magical silent daily grind.
The Mighty Creatives staff team are going to support the campaign by taking part in the Mighty (UN)Mute, a day-long vow of silence, on the 5th October. If you want to join us on the day and take a vow of silence, then pleasecheck out the campaign here.
Of if the thought of donating your silence for 24 hours is really too much, then you can donate your hard-earned disposable income here.
Or if neither of these is possible (and heaven knows we’re all in tough financial times right now), then anything you can do to share and shout about the campaign would be equally welcome and appreciated.
So… come and help me to shut up, once and for all. You know you want to.
Dr Nick Owen MBE PLUS 