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| All Images: River Witham Walk, Washingborough, Lincolnshire, April 2023 |
It's fair to say that all the art I've produced in recent years has shared a clear urban focus. My entire life has been spent dwelling in cities of various sizes, and that has clearly shaped my consciousness (and tastes) in numerous ways. As has become customary, the pieces I have shown here in recent months (and which are still very much ongoing) all found their genesis in a fairly tight sector of densely urban terrain close to my Leicester home.
However, as I have also periodically acknowledged, the less concentrated territories at the fringes of any conurbation, or those somewhat eerie interstitial sectors which may coalesce between closely-adjacent cities, can be as fascinating in their own way as any urban centre. These are commonly referred to as 'The Edgelands', and artists, writers, musicians, photographers, film makers, and the rest, have increasingly come to appreciate them for their particular (and sometimes paradoxical) qualities. J.G. Ballard noted long ago that such zones may well be where true futurity dwells. As our post-industrial economies mutate - and our grasp on a physical (built) reality dissolves ever further into the digital hive-consciousness, I find little reason to argue with his prophetic observations. In the twenty-first century, residing in a state of transition, seepage or becoming, often appears to have replaced any idea of lasting connection to a single, identifiable location. That seems to be the case, both physically and psychically. Perhaps the real dilemma is whether one is bourn along with urgency, or instead chooses to drift.
In the event, my own relationship with such peripheral places is often tied-up with social or family visits, and that's certainly true of the landscape referenced here. Family commitments regularly take me to the dormitory village of Washingborough, just beyond the southeast boundary of Lincoln, where I grew up. The connecting road is punctuated by a crematorium, a bowling centre and a sewerage treatment plant - which certainly feel like classic edgeland features to me. Certainly, at little or no point does the traveller feel themselves to be properly 'out in the country' here. The River Witham Walk foot/cycle route, which follows a disused railway parallel to both the road and the river, also binds the village to the city. That way in particular, has come to symbolise a potential doubling-back to a much earlier chapter in my autobiography - one that can be comfortably pedalled in under 30 minutes.
However, in recent times, another, significantly more emphatic, intervention has been made across this landscape. This is the (decades-in-the-planning) Lincoln Eastern Bypass. Cutting across footpaths, waterways, rail lines (both current and disused) and intersecting with various pre-existing roads - the bypass represents a major feat of civil engineering, punctuated by bridges, roundabouts, embankments, and all the other accoutrements of modern road construction. More notably, and perhaps because of the very raison d'etre of any bypass, it has created its very own zone of highly palpable Edgeland terrain, with all that may (or may not) imply.
In accordance with its avoidant function, the new(ish) road aims to process traffic through the landscape with high efficiency. Admittedly, a fully dual carriageway might have fulfilled that purpose even more effectively. Nevertheless, it is still a byway even more on its way to somewhere else than most roads - and one designed to negate any need to enter the city or surrounding villages, unless as a deliberate visitor. Setting aside the routine necessities of commerce and industry, 'visiting' has become a clearly defined and marketable leisure-time activity these days - and one served by its own highly regulated infrastructure. As such, it represents just another option on a menu of approved activities - rather than something that might occur organically or on a whim. Naturally enough, the bypass signposts the designated access points to some heritage-based brand of alternative reality (as well as more workaday targets) for those determined to travel inward. However, it was clearly never intended to become a destination in its own right. The area surrounding it has consequently become one of those non-places, as a result of its superimposition on the map. What more reason could I need to loiter amongst its footbridges, verges and signage - and perhaps to travel 'inward' in a very different sense?
There are no lay-bys - and very few feasible places to park within easy reach of the Eastern Bypass. However a network of adjacent bridle and footpaths, both new and old, do accompany it across the heavily remodelled landscape. Consequently, my bike has become the logical way to explore. For the time being, the River Witham Walk is currently less of a conduit to personalised urban memory - and more the gateway to a fascinating, alienated land that is simultaneously somewhere and nowhere. Just as one thing always leads to another, repeated visits over the last few months have revealed an ever-expanding range of possible subject matter - along with the attendant rhizome of potential associations and connecting ideas. And so, (without wishing to depart from the work I already have in hand - which does seem to be flowing quite nicely right now), it appears that another little sub-project is born. Honestly, I really should know better by now! However, rather than ring-fencing it as a competing distraction - perhaps I can simply regard it as just another, slightly removed tract of the same extended rhizomatic system. Ultimately, there really is only one map, after all.
I've yet to determine how this little phase of new activity might ultimately resolve itself. What began as a few speculative photos - opportunistically grabbed on a summer's afternoon in 2022, has now expanded into a significant archive of still images and associated video footage. I have already returned several times - documenting a new section of the route between its various bridges and junctions on each occasion. I'm wondering about the possibility of an artist book/photo essay-type thing at present, but we'll see what begins to solidify as I move beyond this current exploratory phase.
For now, there's no harm in presenting a little introductory pictorial evidence. Appropriately enough, these images were recently captured en-route to the bypass and without actually revealing anything of the main event. What they do indicate however, is that found texts, as usual, play an important part in my relationship with any environment I might fetch up in. Equally serendipitously, the signed information shown here relates to the replacement of one form of historical transport infrastructure with another. Clearly, the way we move through the physical environment, and how that interfaces with our perception of time, were as much of an issue in the nineteenth century as they are today. The archaeology of what once felt like the future, now decays serenely within earshot of the speeding traffic, just a few hundred metres away.
Perhaps most importantly of all - I seem to have found my title...
* The Stamford Mercury. Author & Date Unknown.
