The Flow of Time: An Important Message

My name is Bobby Seal and this has been my blog for over eight years. I use psychogeography as a tool to interrogate urban and rural landscapes and a range of artistic responses to such places. I work from home and share a house with a frontline NHS employee and, by the nature of her work, we are resigned to the fact that she will catch the COVID-19 virus sooner or later. Equally, it is likely that I will catch it too.

Other than my wife’s essential work and her home to work travel, we are both now self-isolating, in effect acting as if we already have the virus. We are doing this to protect our family, friends, neighbours and people in general, particularly the more vulnerable members of our community.

It saddens me that, for the time being, I can no longer spend time with family and friends. Nor can I do many of the things I enjoy: going to the theatre, cinema, libraries, exhibitions and live music. I have had to put my voluntary work on hold to protect my colleagues and our clients and may even have to end my morning run, despite the streets being pretty empty at the time I go out.

The Flow of Time is project which excites me. I started it a month ago and it is due to continue for a year in total. However, central to the project is a week-by-week photographic record of a particular place, a bend in the river, and the thoughts and feelings that visiting this place provoke in me. However, to reach this quiet bend in the river, whichever direction I approach it from, I  have to pass through often quite crowded public outdoor spaces. With sadness, but to help protect others, I have decided to suspend this project for the foreseeable future.

River Week 1

The Flow of Time will, however, continue in another form in the next few days, so please keep visiting my blog to catch up on how that is going. In the meantime, if you or any member of your household has any potential COVID-19 symptoms or are you  in one of the vulnerable groups, as defined by our NHS, please exercise strict self-isolation. Meanwhile, everyone else needs to practicing stringent social distancing.

Let’s all look out for each other. Keep healthy and keep safe. With love.

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The Flow of Time: Week 4

Watching the water flow past a bend in the river. The same place, the same time of day, every week for 52 weeks. A year in the life.

Week 4

Week 4

The shops are stripped of all essential goods, the streets are quiet and the hospitals wait expectantly. Do not move, do not mix; stay at home and await further instructions. Ignoring all this, keeping her distance, the river flows ever onward.

Before the stream comes the spring, before that comes the aquifer, before the aquifer the rain, before the rain the cloud and before the cloud the sea. Forever circulating, the whole thing a constant cycle.

I’ve known rivers:
I’ve known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of human blood in human veins.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln went down to New Orleans, and I’ve seen its muddy bosom turn all golden in the sunset.

I’ve known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers

Langston Hughes – The Negro Speaks of Rivers

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The Flow of Time: Week 3

Watching the water flow past a bend in the river. The same place, the same time of day, every week for 52 weeks. A year in the life.

Week 3

Week 3

 

A gloom of gathering cloud – I blink to adjust my eyes to the fading light. Slowly I turn away from the sodden grass of the source and make to start my journey back to the village. As I walk I feel a drop of rain striking my head, and then another and another. Looking up I see a dark cloud passing over, west to east. I smile at the cloud, but it does not look my way.

I’ve never really held with this notion of tracing a river from source to sea. To understand a river one must take as one’s starting point the place where it ends, and then wind backwards to where it began: a spring, a rock, a cloud. Only then will one come to realise that the start and the end are one and the same.

 

I carried my dead in a net, a clattering catch of bones, of promise, of might-have-been

Katharine Norbury The Fish Ladder: A Journey Upstream

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The Flow of Time: Week 2

Watching the water flow past a bend in the river. The same place, the same time of day, every week for 52 weeks. A year in the life.

Week 2

River Week 2

The rain is steady and insistent. Underfoot the ground is like soggy breakfast cereal. The river flows swiftly, heavy with silt washed down from Minera Mountain. An abandoned blue hose, washed down from upstream, snakes along the opposite bank. At one time there were seventeen watermills along this stretch of the river, generating power to grind corn and serve the paper and cloth-making industries. These were cast aside in the nineteenth century with the rise of steam-power, but the mills have left their mark on the landscape, both physically and in terms of place names: King’s Mills, Nant Mill and Felin Puleston (Puleston Mill).

 

If Newton thought, said Austerlitz, pointing through the window and down to the curve of the water around the Isle of Dogs glistening in the last of the daylight, if Newton really thought that time was a river like the Thames, then where is its source and into what sea does it finally flow? Every river, as we know, must have banks on both sides, so where, seen in those terms, where are the banks of time? What would be this river’s qualities, qualities perhaps corresponding to those of water, which is fluid, rather heavy, and translucent? In what way do objects immersed in time differ from those left untouched by it? Why do we show the hours of light and darkness in the same circle? Why does time stand eternally still and motionless in one place, and rush headlong by in another? Could we not claim, said Austerlitz, that time itself has been nonconcurrent over the centuries and the millennia? It is not so long ago, after all, that it began spreading out over everything. And is not human life in many parts of the earth governed to this day less by time than by the weather, and thus by an unquantifiable dimension which disregards linear regularity, does not progress constantly forward but moves in eddies, is marked by episodes of congestion and irruption, recurs in ever-changing form, and evolves in no one knows what direction?

W G Sebald – Austerlitz

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The Mystery of Manchester Square

It was part of the sisters’ duties to come to Manchester Square on market days to buy what was needed at home.

A few months ago I was reading a book called Miriam from an author by the name of Vic Evans. I’m afraid it’s not particularly well written, but the subject matter of a British  woman who volunteered to fight in the Spanish Civil War had initially piqued my interest. One thing from Miriam that did intrigue me, however, was the narrator’s frequent references to a place in Wrexham called Manchester Square, where market traders from Manchester, including the Rabin family whom the book centres on, would travel to Wrexham twice a week to sell their wares.

Wrexham OS Map 1909I reckon I know Wrexham quite well, but I’ve never heard of Manchester Square. I drew a blank when I checked with Google Maps and neither was it marked on my copy of the 1909 Ordnance Survey map for Wrexham, although Vic Evans’s book opens in 1900. So was Manchester Square a wholly fictional creation by the author? Possibly, but all of his other references to Wrexham street names are accurate and most still exist.

 

 

 

Quite by chance I found my answer when I joined a Wrexham local history walk just before Christmas. The walk was led by a retired teacher, Phil Phillips, and Phil was happy to share his wealth of knowledge about the town and its history.
Wrexham built its prosperity on trade. True, the town’s expansion in the nineteenth century was built on coal and steel. But these are industries that have come and gone. Wrexham’s deeper history, its reason for being, is built on market trading: the buying and selling of goods.

Upon Mundays and Thursdays, marketts are kept within the towne of Wrexham, and that there are three ffayers kept in the town yerely, viz: upon the xiith of Marche, fifthe of June and the viith of September
Norden’s Survey 1620

From medieval times right through until the 1990s Wrexham had a weekly Beast Market, where livestock from the Welsh hills and Cheshire plain were traded. There was also an annual March Fair which attracted customers and traders from many miles away. Eventually some these traders, explained Phil, wished to expand their operation and built their own market halls in the town.

Yorkshire traders set up their own market hall to sell leather goods just off present day Tuttle Street; an area which became known as Yorkshire Square. Meanwhile, hardware sellers from Birmingham operated from Birmingham Square, adjoining the current Henblas Street. Traders from Manchester, who specialised in textiles, set them selves up in the same area. This site, said Phil, providing the solution to my mystery, was known as Manchester Square right through until the late nineteenth century.

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My researches could not locate any visual record of Manchester, Birmingham or Yorkshire Square, but apparently the traders were housed in temporary structures. From the mid-nineteenth century, however, these makeshift structures began to be replaced by more substantial, permanent buildings. The Butchers’ Market was built 1848, the Butter Market in 1879 and the Vegetable Market initially in 1910, then comprehensively remodelled in 1927.

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Of the these three only the Butchers’ Market still remains in anything like its original form. As the name implies, the Butter Market was where local farmers sold their dairy products. Rationing in 1939 ended the tradition of farmhouse butter and the Butter Market became the canteen for the US Army Medical Corps during the Second World War.

The area around Henblas Street is the heart of Victorian Wrexham, although very few of the original buildings remain; Manchester Square is long gone. The Victorians, in turn, built their own new developments on top of the remains of the medieval town. The process continued throughout the twentieth century and most of the old town centre has been lost to successive waves of redevelopment.

The former Vegetable Market

Even relatively recently, in 1992, the Vegetable Market with its mock tudor façade was demolished to make way for an office block with a BHS store at ground level. Both are now empty.

 

With thanks to Wrexham History and Wrexham County Borough Council for their help with researching this piece and with much gratitude to the wonderful Mr Phil Phillips. Sadly, just over three years after this piece was first posted, Phil passed away while on holiday in Canada. My thoughts are with Karen and the rest of his family

 

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The Flow of Time: Week 1

Watching the water flow past a bend in the river. The same place, the same time of day, every week for 52 weeks. A year in the life.

Week 1

River Week 1

Finish at noon and walk to the river, tired from my work and a night of elusive sleep, but gripped by the excitement of a new project, that heady initial surge of enthusiasm and ideas. The day is cold and damp but defiantly bright. The river is bloated, its flow relentless, while on its surface sunlight dances and shadows play. Brendan, Ciara and Dennis: an alphabet of storms have passed this way, bringing down the sky and leaving their watery mark upon the land.

A river passing through a landscape catches the world and gives it back redoubled: a shifting, glinting world more mysterious than the one we customarily inhabit. Rivers run through our civilisations like strings through beads.
Olivia LaingTo the River: A Journey Beneath the Surface

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How Pale the Winter Has Made Us by Adam Scovell

 Novelist, critic and film-maker, Adam Scovell is a prodigious young talent. In How Pale the Winter Has Made Us he introduces us to Isabelle, a young British academic adrift and alone in Strasbourg. She overwinters in this rainy corner of north-eastern France trying to come to terms with the recent suicide of her father and ignoring the frantic messages from her mother, from whom she is estranged, and her employer, the new post with whom she has failed to take up. Isabelle stays in her partner’s flat while he travels in Latin America. Occasionally he checks in with her for phone conversations that are awkward and stilted on both sides.

Book_Cover_ImageWhilst Isabelle acts as Scovell’s protagonist in this book, his main character is the city of Strasbourg itself and the reader is led on a topographic and temporal journey through its streets. The weight of history sits heavily upon the city. We learn much about Gutenberg, Goethe, Gustave Doré, Jean Arp and other historic figures connected with Strasbourg. But what we pick up about Isabelle and her back story is only minimal. Other figures in her life are even sketchier: in Isabelle’s first-person narrative her father was a failed painter, her mother is a ‘harridan’ and her partner does not even warrant a name.

She wanders the streets of Strasbourg dragging the burden of her psychological disintegration around with her. One step behind the figure of the Erl-King shadows her; whether he is a supernatural being or an expression of her shattered psyche the reader is left to decide. Isabelle scours the city’s flea markets for old postcards and researches its history online trying to piece together the puzzle of the Franco-German enigma that is Strasbourg. As we share her journey we are led to wonder whether all her searching will tip her over the edge into complete breakdown, or if it will eventually contribute to a process of integration and healing.

 

How Pale the Winter Has Made Us by Adam Scovell is published on 13 February 2020 by Influx Press. Image and review copy courtesy of the publisher.

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A Year in Books

New books that Psychogeographic Review was reading in 2019:

 

Peterloo: The Story of the Manchester Massacre by Jaqueline Riding

 

 

 

Palaces for the People: How to Build a More Equal and United Society by Eric Klinenberg

 

 

 

The New Enclosure: The Appropriation of Public Land in Neoliberal Britain by Brett Christophers

 

 

Who Owns England? How We Lost our Green and Pleasant Land – And How to Take it Back by Guy Shrubsole

 

 

Ghost Trees: Nature and People in a London Parish by Bob Gilbert

 

 

 

 

Primate Change: How the World We Made is Remaking Us by Vybarr Cregan-Reid

 

 

 

Groundwork: Writings on Places and People edited by Tim Dee

 

 

 

 

Underland: A Deep Time Journey by Robert Mcfarlane

 

 

 

 

Irreplacable: The Fight to Save Our Wild Places by Julian Hoffman

 

 

 

 

The Way to the Sea: The Forgotten Histories of the Thames Estuary by Caroline Crampton

 

 

 

Tastes of Honey: The Making of Shelagh Delaney and a Cultural Revolution by Selina Todd

 

 

 

Excellent Essex: In Praise of England’s Most Misunderstood County by Gillian Darley

 

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Freedom of Movement by Reuben Lane

When I am cycling around London, my bike is my home. When I am sat on park benches or in cafes or in galleries writing, my notebook is my home.

Freedom of Movement drops the reader straight into the life and everyday concerns of Reuben Lane with no preamble or introduction. One learns about Lane and his backstory little by little as the book progresses. He lives in London’s Earlsfield, south of the river, and is experiencing mounting pressure because of his need to find somewhere else to live as the date when he must move out of his current home comes ever closer.

Reuben Lane

There is no plot in the conventional sense of the word, no real narrative arc. What we are presented with is a slice of Lane’s life. He works front of house in theatres and cinemas in the evenings and the rest of the time he writes, spends time with his boyfriend, Joseph, and explores the city in which he was born.

Lane travels around London by bike, by bus and on foot. This is not a journey from A to B, rather it is a series of wanderings around London, joining up the dots of the city’s public spaces. Despite their steady erosion by the privatisation of the public realm, Lane still finds squares, parks and cafes where he can hang out, watch people and contemplate life. Leicester Square, Russell Square, Harleyford Road Community Garden, Butterfield Green: the names trip off the tongue like the stations of Lane’s personal cross.

The period covered is September 2018 to March 2019 which gives the whole book a feeling of immediacy and the conviction that Lane’s journeys across London on his bike are still happening as we read his words. Freedom of Movement is a beautiful little book. I say that not to diminish its merits, but simply because it comprises just 62 pages and comes in a plain but pleasingly designed cover, each one featuring an outline of the River Thames bisecting Lane’s London and hand-coloured by the author.

Freedom of Movement

But overshadowing the whole narrative is the spectre of homelessness. Lane realises that his own situation is not as desperate as that of many others: ‘nothing like as bad as those guys sleeping rough on Clapham Common or in tents along Tottenham Court Road and Euston Road.’ But this is the UK in 2018 and the precariousness of existence is a daily concern for many people paying high rents from low wages. Freedom of Movement succeeds in giving the dry statistics of austerity Britain a human face and heart.

Freedom of Movement is a self-published pamphlet with a limited print-run. It costs £9.00, with all proceeds going to CRISIS, and is available from:

Gay’s The Word, 66 Marchmont Street, London WC1 1AB
Phone: 0207 278 7654
Email: sales@gaystheword.co.uk

Or contact the author at: reuben_lane@protonmail.com. 

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Object Z

Imagine a world facing a crisis, an existential crisis in which the very survival of the planet and all forms of life upon it are threatened. Again and again the world’s scientists and experts warn us: pointing out that the evidence is clear, undeniable. Our only chance of averting this crisis is through action, immediate radical action. We need to open our eyes and work together as one people, ignoring our national and political borders. The threat, after all, is global and is no respecter of our human-created boundaries.

The year is 1965 and astronomers discover a six-mile wide meteor hurtling through space on a collision course with Earth. The results of the impact will be catastrophic and threaten the existence of all life on the planet.

Rediffusion

Object Z was a six-part television sci-fi series written by Chris McMaster and produced by Associated-Rediffusion. It stars Ralph Nossek as Professor Ramsay, the scientist who first spots the meteor. Alarmed by the threat, the NATO bloc and the Warsaw Pact countries are prompted into working together for the common good. They plan to launch a rocket with a nuclear warhead straight at the meteor to destroy it before it reaches the Earth.

But not everyone is happy with the idea of international cooperation. A chilling populist agitator called Keeler tries to whip up nationalist sentiment in Britain with the aim of installing an authoritarian regime with himself at the head. These days we would view Keeler with Farage or Trump in mind but, for 1960s audiences, he would appear, perhaps, to be more of an Oswald Mosley figure.

Object Z

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But all is not as it seems. As the meteor, Object Z, draws closer and preparations to launch the missile to destroy it are finalised it is discovered that the whole crisis is a hoax. Alarmed by the threat to humanity caused by the proliferation of nuclear weapons, scientists on both sides of the Iron Curtain have acted together to try to jolt their governments out of the madness of the Cold War.

Professor Ramsay, the leader of the plot, is arrested and imprisoned. With the threat to the planet lifted, international relations are free to return to hostile normality. In Britain Keeler’s movement is side-lined.

But within days three large objects, real ones this time, are spotted speeding towards the Earth. Ramsay is released from jail to help the government and the story continues in a further six episodes, Object Z Returns, the following year.

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