Lessons learned from the Urban Archaeology project by Heather Read
The next time I see him is a week after the reception for Urban Archaeology at the opening for the Youth Arts Collective’s show. He is dressed in a black jacket with a rose in his lapel. I ask how the show looks; he beams at me, answering without words. He tells me the memory boxes are on display too and that they look great. As we head upstairs, he stops and thanks me for my project. He says meeting the other participants at the reception was really moving, and gave him some much-needed perspective on his life. “It made me shut the hell up,” he says. I laugh.
He confesses that he spent a long time talking to a woman from the Independent Living Resource Centre. She showed him pictures of her family, which he describes as one of the most beautiful he has ever seen, rendered moreso by her openness to him about her struggles to get pregnant. He thanks me again for the chance to make a connection like that with another person. He says such chances are rare in life.
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Transformation can become one of the criteria by which we evaluate the success of our work. It may be a modest transformation; not every project can change the world, or need attempt to. But when planning programs, we can ask ourselves, “What will change, or be changed, by this project?” If the status quo remains after we have produced a concert or exhibition or documented a tradition, to what extent have we really succeeded? (Westerman 122).
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The Urban Archaeology project was a community based art display at The Rooms Provincial Art Gallery in St. John’s, Newfoundland from June 2006 to January 2007. For the project, participants created memory boxes representing their personal stories and responses to the word home; the 39 boxes were then displayed at the art gallery, and a closing reception was held in January to celebrate the work. Participants were drawn from four community organizations in St. John’s: the Multicultural Women’s Organization of Newfoundland and Labrador (MWONL), the Brother T.I. Murphy Youth Arts Collective (BTIM), the Refugee and Immigrant Advisory Council (RIAC) and the Independent Living Resource Centre (ILRC). I chose these groups to bring diverse voices into the gallery, and to draw attention to the diversity of the city and the province.
The ILRC is a community group that exists to help “enable persons with disabilities to make informed choices about their lives” (ILRC). They offer a wide variety of programs and services to clients, from recreational experiences like dinner club, to assistance in obtaining aides like wheelchairs. MWONL works to promote “positive relationship[s] among the ethnic minorities and the local population” in St. John’s (MWONL). They also provide support to women of diverse backgrounds through social gatherings, and assisting immigrants with community integration (Kutty). The Brother T. I. Murphy Centre provides “individuals with opportunities for growth through the integration of creative learning experiences” (Murphy). They offer programs such as: assisting adults with high school completion, promoting positive life skills, and developing and pursuing employment opportunities. One of their most unique initiatives is the Youth Arts Collective, which gives artistic young people facing life challenges assistance in moving out into the world. According to their mission statement, RIAC’s goals are: “to advise and assist in the adjustment, integration and development of refugees and immigrants in Newfoundland and Labrador…” (RIAC). They accomplish this through a number of programs, such as language classes and translation services, as well as assistance in finding employment, and in advocating cases to governments. They also provide recreational services, such as a Friday adventure group, where participants explore the city by shopping or visiting museums.
Those are the facts. But like most artistic endeavours, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts; the Urban Archaeology project was much more special than the facts make it seem. What made it special? Some background about the province of Newfoundland and Labrador will make that clear.
Diversity is not a word often associated with this province, in a cultural sense at least. Case in point: in 2006, the Government of Newfoundland and Labrador unveiled a new provincial logo, replacing an image of the provincial flag with an image of the provincial flower, the pitcher plant. Apparently, the pitcher plant, “[a] plant so odd, yet so comfortable in its own skin…” is the symbol that best “reflects who we are and what we stand for” (Gov of Newfoundland and Labrador). The symbol apparently unites all people in the province: “One symbol, one voice” (Gov of Newfoundland and Labrador).
There is obviously not “one voice” among all people living in Newfoundland and Labrador; there is not “one voice” among all people living in any geographic area. In the context of Newfoundland, though, this is a fairly common idea. Newfoundland author Michael Crummey once wrote that the province has long been considered unique in Canada (31). Academic researchers agree, noting that “Newfoundland” is a specific regional identity that has been studied as separate from “‘the Maritimes…the North, the Northwest Territories, Ontario, the Prairies, Quebec and the West” (Rummens 12). Although there are unique regional identities across Canada, the sense of identity is strong in Newfoundland, and tends to be very Irish and English centred (Mannion 5; Story 24-27). The predominant histories of Newfoundland are about settlers from those countries and their work in the fishery.
However, there are many other people who have lived in this place whose lives and stories are just as important as those of the English and the Irish. But their stories are harder to find at museums or in books about the province. Historically, there were Norse explorers here, and sailors from Portugal, Spain, and the Caribbean (Mannion 5-11). And, before the arrival of people from other places, there were First Nations people living in Newfoundland and Labrador: the Beothuk (a group rendered largely extinct during the 18th century), the Innu, the Inuit and the Migmaw. And, in contemporary times, there are significant cultural groups in St. John’s, like the Jewish and Chinese communities. And the mention of these groups only covers cultural diversity; there is great diversity in the province with respect to culture, but also age, occupation, gender, religion and physical ability. But when most people talk and think about Newfoundland and Labrador, they rarely consider these stories.
That is why Urban Archaeology was important, because it considered other stories. I facilitated this project through The Rooms, a relatively new cultural institution in St. John’s. It is a unique space that opened in the summer of 2005 and houses the Provincial Museum, Art Gallery and Archives. Prior to the building’s opening, these three institutions were separate spaces in St. John’s; together they occupy a prominent place in the city, both physically and culturally. All three exist to tell stories about the province, and most of the stories they tell are about people of that English and Irish fishing heritage. I wanted to change that, to give some people who are not often heard the chance to share their stories on the biggest stage in town. Because if you are unable to share your stories, that is often a sign that there are other things you are not able to do.
It is a simple idea, the idea of sharing stories, but it is a powerful one. To be honest, when I began Urban Archaeology, I did not realize the effect the sharing would have. The process of participating in Urban Archaeology and of being celebrated in The Rooms strongly affected the participants; the best way I can explain that is by telling a few stories about those who were telling the stories.
A young woman from BTIM hugged me warmly when she arrived at the Urban Archaeology reception, declaring that everything looked “just beautiful!” Later, she squeezed me again and said that she felt emotional, seeing all the boxes together. Seeing these people, and these stories, and learning a little about what they have gone through affected her more than she thought it would. She said she felt honoured to be included. She thanked me, her eyes welling up with tears.
Two men from the ILRC approached me midway through the reception. One was pushing the other in a wheelchair. The man in the wheelchair was holding a small green birdhouse on his lap, which he made for me. He exclaimed, “Thank you Heather!” and thrust the gift into my hands. Then, the man who was pushing stepped forward, and said that they both wanted to thank me for the chance to participate in the project. He said that making the box gave them the chance to talk about things they otherwise would not have talked about. And he said more importantly, the project gave them the opportunity to go out into the community and experience things they would not have felt safe doing otherwise. He thanked me again, and then disappeared into the crowd.
Several participants were unable to attend the reception. One in particular, affiliated with RIAC, was unable to come because she was deported shortly before Christmas. I remember her well; she was enthusiastic about painting her memory box. She said it made her feel like a child. She said it was important to give people opportunities to express themselves, because it was good for the soul. When she left the gallery, she said she felt lighter. Her life, she told me, as it was then, did not allow for moments of creativity and reflection.
The generation of art and the creation of stories can be transformative (Westerman 118). The effect of creation is powerful as William Westerman describes:
The feeling that creative people experience when participating in a[n]…artistic activity is seldom well articulated, because it is fundamentally non-verbal. Usually the words break down [when they talk about it] and people only speak in general terms: “It does something for me,” “I feel something,” “I feel great”… [T]hat creative process not only makes us feel more human, it connects us socially…(118).
In contemporary Western cultures , however, , creative action “is usually treated as merely a recreational activity rather than something of primary importance” (Westerman 118). This is unfortunate, especially since, “art [is]…a means through which children, youth and adults communicate their values and beliefs to one another” (Blandy and Hoffman 25). Moreover, the arts are an important component of community development; they “encourage personal development as well as social cohesion” (Carey and Sutton 124). Community based art projects serve both to provide “a means for people to express their relationship with their social and physical environment,” as well as “encourage[ing diverse] groups to work together” (Carey and Sutton 124). Encouragement of individual self worth, and promotion of group action are cornerstones of a healthy community.
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Sometimes the shortest proverbs contain the deepest meanings and the simplest songs stick in your heart. The same is true for artwork. It was a long time before I noticed the outside of one of the boxes. In two small graphics, the maker had (unintentionally?) captured what I had hoped would be the spirit of Urban Archaeology. On one side of his box is a stereo, with the word ‘Listen’ underneath it. On the other is a character holding a microphone; underneath are the words ‘Be Heard.’
Listen. Be Heard.
I never asked him why he painted those images and those words. What I do know is that for me, they are a distillation of Urban Archaeology. I listened, and I tried to give a platform, however small it might have been, to people who deserve to be heard as loudly as anyone else in this city. And whether the project created any long-term change or not, the fact that at least one person caught onto, or at least agreed with my message is enough to give me hope for the future of diversity in the city.
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The story revolution, the one that is transforming our world this very minute, is fuelled by a democratic counter-assertion: that everyone contributes to culture; that the knowledge sorely needed by future generations must come from every ethnic group and region and social class, from men and women of infinite variety; and that everyone has something to teach and something to learn (Goldbard).
About the author
Heather Read is a graduate student in the Department of Folklore at Memorial University. She also sells paintings in her spare time, and bakes muffins of varying delicious varieties.
References
Blandy, Douglas and Hoffman, Elizabeth. “Toward an art education of place.” Studies in Art Education 35.1 (1993): 22-33.
Carey, Phil, and Sutton, Sue. “Community development through participatory arts: Lessons learned from a community arts and regeneration project in South Liverpool.” Community Development Journal 39.2 (2004): 123-134.
Goldbard, Arlene. “The Story Revolution: How Telling Our Stories Transforms the World.” Community Arts Network: Reading Room. 2005. 20 February 2007.
Government of Newfoundland and Labrador. “Brand Signature.” Government of Newfoundland and Labrador website. 2006. 20 February 2007.
Independent Living Resource Centre. ILRC website. n.d. 15 February 2007.
Mannion, John J. “Introduction.” In John Mannion’s The Peopling of Newfoundland: Essays in Historical Geography. St. John’s, NL: ISER, Memorial University, 1977. 1-14.
The Murphy Centre. “Programs.” The Murphy Centre: A living investment. 2003. 21 February 2007.
MWONL. Multicultural Women’s Organization of Newfoundland and Labrador. St. John’s: MWONL, 2006.
RIAC. “About us: Vision mission value.” RIAC: Refugee and Immigrant Advisory Council. 26 June 2006. 21 February 2007.
Rummens, Joanna. “An Interdisciplinary Overview of Canadian Research on Identity.” Metropolis. 2001. 20 February 2007. .
Story, George M. “Newfoundland: Fishermen, Hunters, Planters and Merchants.” In Herbert Halpert’s Christmas Mummering in Newfoundland. Toronto, ON: University of Toronto Press, 1969. 7-33.
Westerman, William. “Wild grasses and new arks: Transformative potential in applied and public folklore.” Journal of American Folklore 119.471 (2006):111-128.
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