There have been a few opportunities to explore my creativity during the last nine days: the Craft Trail, May Day in the Park and Crouch End in Cardboard. Here are my thoughts as Waste Lady, a woman who can't let go of anything that might be construed as useful or beautiful.
But first of all, let me go backwards and say, well done to Claire and the Makers on the extraordinary and wonderful thing that is guerrilla bunting.
In the run up to the festival, bunting, normally associated with jubilee parties and vintage tweedom, became an act of defiance, a blazon of civic entitlement to drape the landmarks and iconic buildings of Crouch End. (Hornsey Town Hall, we had you in our sights.) This was a wonderful collaborative effort, not just by the Makers Group at the Bunting and Bubbles Party when fuelled by prosecco, we pinned and sewed....
..but also by children in schools and playgroups who created their own flags and emblems with paint and hand prints. (And thank you to the artist who wrote 'Croch End Festival' on one - it cheers up the W7 commuters no end.) It was crafted by invisible, nameless makers who sewed their squares with beads, boats and butterflies, handed them in, quietly pleased with their effort. and hoped to find their work sometime during the festival.
But back to the Festival per se, and the Craft Trail. Although a missed opportunity for me, the stash of upcycled crafts is accumulating and will be on display at some point. That particular day was all about chairs, tables and vans, and toasting the Trail with prosecco (again) at the end of the day, and washing clay off a table used for sculpture at the beginning of the next.
May Day in the Park was glorious, though not the weather.
Dear Church Farm lambs, thank you for coming to London and looking so cool. Thank you for inspiring so many woolly crafts through all the stages of spinning, weaving, knitting, and felting. And thank you for being happy to appear as paper plates, iced biscuits and soft toys.
May Day in the Park was a phenomenal success. Visitors to Stationers Park were enchanted by the bizarre sight of farmyard animals in an urban setting, and Elvis the resident border collie was deeply confused.
On a miserable, wet day parents herded their hyperactive little ones indoors to be comprehensively entertained by the activities mentioned above. The aura of success lingers, as parents list the lovely ovine objects their children have made and brought home to sit resplendent in kitchen windows and bedrooms, (for a little while).
And last but not least, the Crouch End in Cardboard. Now in one sense, it was the least. It was not very well attended. In the beginning, there were considerably more adults than children, many of whom will struggle to justify time bank credits they 'earned', as they created little people out of corks and pipe cleaners.
But once the steel band had packed up in Weston Park's Spring Fair and the bar had closed, children did come and they joined in. No-one told them what to do. This was an activity that did what it said on the box, a reconstruction of Crouch End, using boxes, packing tape and buckets of ingenuity.
The construction expanded from the striking clock tower created by Alex to a panorama of Crouch End. There was the macro: Park Road swimming pool, Rokesley School with climbing frame and pupils, Waitrose (although other supermarkets were available, namely Budgens) and the micro: trees, sheep and of course, the poet in the phone box.
For me, this was the most successful, because it was the least stressful. I looked around and everything was mess and chaos, not an easy feeling because I teach English to adults. My lesson plans (ideally) should have learning objectives and outcomes, and every moment, every second is a step towards achieving them, with me as tutor directing the group.
'Crouch End in Cardboard' on the other hand was creative mayhem. It was ephemeral. Some people took their little cork people home, but most left them to live on in this virtual village, just as no-one made off with Lynne's sheep or hens in her superb knitted landscape, on display at May Day.
Crouch End in Cardboard is now folded away in a shed. I'd like to bring it out again at the Festival Evaluation meeting on 21 May and solemnly, ritually burn it, as a formidable farewell to Crouch End 2012, but it may just moulder along with other HVCC craft experiences, (although being biodegradable, this might not take too long).
And the lessons learnt? Please, I won't be so didactic, tendentious or hectoring. All I would say is there is something to be said for space. Space to make a mess and find your own creativity, where you don't take anything home to treasure, other than the experience. What you made may well sit in a shed, but your mind and hands have been shaped by the experience. And at the same time, you have made friends.
