island hide

Hurdles
Lately I’ve been thinking about hurdles. Not those things that athletes jump over, and not metaphorical hurdles to be overcome. I mean the fencing woven from split branches.

I’m interested in creating them for artwork. I’m not quite sure what the meaning or purpose of said work would be, but it interests me nonetheless. It’s also inspired by some of the work of a friend.

Pomona Island
Pomona Island is a structure between the Bridgewater Canal and the Ship Canal, running from Hulme close to the city centre as far as the Trafford Road Bridge near Salford Quays. It was originally a pleasure garden serving Trafford, but with industrialisation and the development of the Ship Canal it became docks where goods were unloaded.

In recent years Pomona Island has been neglected, and used as a de-facto park by many. More recently work has begun at one end of the island on some flats. There was a lot of opposition to this move, and many people had hoped the island might be developed as a park.

Materials of convenience
I like using cheap or found materials where possible. Largely through necessity, but also because the challenge of making art with limitations is interesting. When making objects outdoors that mainly means fallen branches, stones, leaves, water, ice etc.

Improvisation
My creative practice, whether sound-making, visual, or otherwise, is primarily improvisational. This occasionally has downsides, one of which is poor preparation when I’m acting spontaneously.

Making
I was interested in creating a hurdle from materials to hand. As a largely derelict and overgrown location Pomona Island was a natural choice.

Across the last eight years the plants and bushes on the island have been cut back once, and twice grubbed-up. That grubbing-up has made parts of the island impassable on foot unless you want to get shredded by various thorns which now form a knotted central barrier.

From an attractive, almost country park-like environment, the landowners have rendered the island an ugly, unkempt, and barely useable mess. And until the most recent assault the island was home in summer to skylarks.

With the island so mistreated, and with one corner under construction, I felt less worried about an interventionist piece of work than I otherwise might. My plan was to find a line or a square of bushes I could weave into a hurdle.

Ideally I would have organised secateurs or a similar tool to make my work easier, but I don’t own any at present. So having rejected a handsaw and a coping saw I took a pair of scissors with me. I don’t know why I own a coping saw, and it’s certainly never been used as intended.

After pushing through the undergrowth on Pomona Island for a while it was clear I wasn’t going to find an existing line of bushes. But there was a near square of seven that looked promising, with a row of three and two further rows with a bush at each side and a gap in the middle.

The first move was to strip the branches off each bush, and remove the neighbouring bushes immediately encroaching on the square. Those branches were gathered in a couple of heaps, the longer ones together, for weaving into the structure.

During this process I would have blistered my right middle finger with the pressure exerted using the scissors. But I went right through blistering to bursting and then pulling the skin off the finger. It’s still scarred just over two weeks later.

Bushes prepared it was simple enough to weave in the branches I’d gathered. If nothing else I learned that you need a lot more branches to weave in horizontally than you might think.

In fact the whole thing was pretty small and unassuming. So I decided to bend the uprights over to create a kind of roof. Then either weave in or balance on top the remaining shower branches to create a kind of hide. Or even a meditation retreat.

To my surprise it was possible to sit inside comfortably without threatening the whole edifice. It was tight, certainly, but possible.

Maybe it’s time to go back and see how it’s surviving, if it’s surviving.

Reflections
I enjoy this kind of impermanent, near invisible, easy to ignore construction. Assuming the bushes aren’t immediately rooted up again they’ll at least begin to destroy the hide next spring and summer.

The dead branches shrinking and beginning to be consumed; the living bushes pushing out new growth and seeking the sun; birds, animals and perhaps intrepid walkers and their dogs kicking through; and rain and wind shaking it.

In two or three years most likely nothing will remain.