Swoon

Chris looking at 'Alixa & Naima' 2008 by Swoon. Warrington Museum & Gallery

We've been working with a group of carers at Warrington Museum, trying out ideas for re-labelling museum objects, using emotional connections with the artefacts rather than historical ones. This week we focussed on writing. Participants were interviewed about their lives as carers. They then inter-cut lines from these interviews with descriptions of objects that attracted them around the museum...


Swoon


love them as they are

thinking about them as a whole person


woman holding a friend

helping her to feel safe and secure

for me it's touch, so, so important

hand on forehead, hand on shoulder

touch her cheek or stroke her hair

kissing cares away

arms holding
an ivory statue, an all-in-one embrace

keeping her from harm

if you love someone

that caring aspect

is an easy choice:

love them as they are


Chris
16 July



Interview


Putting someone before yourself, looking after somebody's needs. Thinking about them as a whole person - all about quality of life. It's doing whats right for them, not necessarily what’s good for you.

Its arms holding me. An ivory statue, all in one embrace.

Their needs are more - they need more socially, emotionally, physically - they come first. Your brain is on that person all the time. But its not all gloom, you want to do it.

It's hard when you need help, the physical help. You're at the brunt. Social Services only help at crisis point.

You could be up 5, 6 times in the night, you have to have the knowledge first.

It's being true to yourself and true to them. Their needs are met, but there's still dignity. In our house it was fun - you just love them as who they are. If you love someone that caring aspect is an easy choice. If they can't love you back, then I don’t know…

I never made out that it was a chore - she wouldn’t accept that. A nice lady.

For me it's touch, the power of touch, so so important. Touch her cheek or stroke her hair.

Trust is quite a thing, for the person you care for, and you’ve got to trust people - the people who say they’ll come back and help. Do I trust you to look after me?

Pleasure, when I’ve done something, and I can see my mums eyes light up, when she’s in a mess, she calls herself Nanny Gu.

Chris interviewed, 16 July

back in the circle

We've been working with a group of carers at Warrington Museum, trying out ideas for re-labelling museum objects, using emotional connections with the artefacts rather than historical ones. This week we focussed on writing. Participants were interviewed about their lives as carers. They then inter-cut lines from these interviews with descriptions of objects that attracted them around the museum...

Carol with Finger and Toe rings from West Africa, Warrington Museum  & Art Gallery

rings


in rings – how you feel while caring

it's reminiscent of a wheel, you never get off

a sign of devotion, trust and

symbol of love

all the things you would do for a child

rather than being back in the pram they're in

a wheelchair, return to childhood

back in the circle

difficult to accept care – irritation

because it means you can't cope and that's a failure

finding a few moments to get your head together

no end to the task, no breaks

care is frustraton.



Carol

16 July




Interview  

It's reminiscent of a wheel, being a carer. You never get off. When you're not with the person you care for, you're thinking of them – are they getting properly looked after? Your brain is only intent on that one thing.

Finding a few moments to get your head together.

Care is frustration. I didn't give as much as I wanted, didn't get him what he really needed, couldn't keep him at home eventually. Frustration when people don't give you the right information or do the job they're supposed to and you do a lot of work for nothing. You make a complaint and they never get back to you, or fob you off. Ring so an so, then ring so and so. Phone call after phone call in amongst everything else you've got to do.

You don't think of it as how you show care, you do it automatically. You do a million things. All the things you would do for a child, all the things you would do for an adult. Provide food and warmth, making sure they're eating healthily, changing them, putting food in their mouths. And of course rather than being in a pram the person is in a wheelchair and you're pushing them around as you would a child. So again it's a circle, you're back in the circle.

It's difficult to accept care, irritating. Cos it means you can't cope and that's a failure. People ask are you alright and you always say 'Yeah'. It's a difficult thing to accept care when you've cared for someone.

Carol, interviewed 16 July

wrap them around you

We've been working with a group of carers at Warrington Museum, trying out ideas for re-labelling museum objects, using emotional connections with the artefacts rather than historical ones. This week we focussed on writing. Participants were interviewed about their lives as carers. They then inter-cut lines from these interviews with descriptions of objects that attracted them around the museum...

Josie working 

Egyptian coffin



the people surrounding

never forget you

wrap them around you.

Care – you can't say what it is. It's

a living thing. Sometimes

you achieve it, sometimes failing

can be rewarding – it's reality.

I escape for a few minutes

grateful for small things

family and friends

are important

wrap them around you

to protect you.



Josie

16 July 2013

Interview

Care, a way of life. My caring has gone on for my daughter, child to adult. Care – you can't say what it is, it's a living thing, changing, challenging. It can be rewarding. Light and dark. You show you care with your actions, doing the right thing.

They're vulnerable, need support. Sometimes they'll ask and they know they can turn to you. The dark side is how much it can take out of you, in time, in mental worry, the strain. But then you know you have got to look after yourself so you can look after the person you're caring for. That's what keeps me going, the boost, the little bites here and there. That side no one sees.

It's taught me to be grateful for small things and appreciate life more. I can look at my daughter and she can't get out of life what I can. She doesn't get that inner life. I see a pigeon on the roof and I escape for a few minutes, she doesn't.

I was wild, didn't think I'd have kids, now I'm the opposite. It's changed me as a person for the better. I have more patience and I try to help others. People come to me with problems – I try to help and I panic cos I haven't the answers. But having patience is the main thing and taking time to learn about them.

Some days it's up, sometimes down. Sometimes you achieve, some fail. It's not even a learning curve, it's all over the place. The outside world affects it. My daughter likes to control, things in their place. Then a visitor comes in and it upsets all the balance that we might have taken days to achieve. You can't control it. It's difficult at the time, but it's reality. You've got to let them witness reality and yet somehow protect them.

Josie interviewed, 16 July 2013

Between the Tides

We've been working with a group of carers at Warrington Museum, trying out ideas for re-labelling museum objects, using emotional connections with the artefacts rather than historical ones. Yesterday I simply asked participants what items in the museum connected to them or their lives.


'One of the paintings in there, stands out a treat. All my family are fisherman, it stands out a treat. My mums got a copy in her house, she says it reminds her of the old days. My father is a fisherman, my grandfather was a fisherman with his own boat. Tenby in Wales. 

Leighton Williams beside 'Between the Tides' by Walter Langley

Made me happy seeing this, stopped me being stressed out coming here today. It's mental. I'm missing home as well. I had a bad day today, but this made me happy, it reminds me of Tenby, all fishing harbours there, and a pier just like in the painting. Its not the bad things, its the happy things, and theres a copy hanging on my mums wall. 

A man to look up to my father, a fisherman, a family man. I've been in the house when the weather is changing and been crapping it, really worried. He's a tough man my father, but never raised his hand to me, he always done it the right way. You got to be patient as a fisherman, thats why he was so good with the family. 

I have never felt like this over a painting before, its shocked me big time.'

Human Labelling



Sylvia labelling friendship

Objects of our affection
Warrington Museum 2 July

We've been working with a group of carers at Warrington Museum, trying out ideas for re-labelling museum objects, using emotional connections with the artefacts rather than historical ones. It's the personal associations with the objects and the memories triggered that we've been most interested by. The stories that emerged have contained a whole human mix of funny, tragic, absurd, strange, haunting and haunted.

This week we tried something different. Rather than looking at the objects, we looked at labels instead. Our participants were then invited to make labels in traditional museum style, but instead of writing about objects, describing people important to them and categorising them in the same way a traditional museum label might do.

In a way this was an anti-labelling exercise, because it pointed up the absurdity of labels - it's impossible to adequately describe another human, let alone encapsulate them in a short definition. But as a writing constraint it's an interesting one and produced some touching little portraits, defined as much by what they left out as what was on paper.

Christine made a delightful word picture of her father, pipe-smoking, flat-capped and with a twinkling humour. But where to put it? She imagined it working well alongside a picture of old Warrington (see photo below) or else in a bare room containing only her dad's flat cap. Sylvia's description of a friendship that's lasted 54 years was full of affection. Perhaps the most emotive piece was Derek's description of his son's attempts to escape the bubble of schizophrenia.

Christine in front of 'Old Cheapside, Warrington' 1886, George Sheffield.

While researching this workshop I put the search 'poem labels' into google and was rewarded with various pieces of writing that were attacks on labels, stereotypes, etc. But having looked closely at museum labelling, I begin now to realise what an art making a label is. And how useful as a boundary to put around people's creative writing, because – paradoxically – it set them free.

A mummy, a silver penny, a spider and a piece of flint

Objects of our affection
Warrington Museum & Art Gallery, 2nd July 2013

spider and scorpion Courtesy of Warrington Museum & Art Gallery

We're working with a group of carers to re-label objects at Warrington Museum, creating new viewpoints and stories from items we've encountered in the museum displays and the stores. Yesterday I worked in the museum itself, inviting visitors to talk about their personal connections to the museum objects.

The day was one of contrasts, the first person I worked with was a young man, who honestly explained: It's a museum, I don't think it reminds me of me at all, it doesn't connect with me... but I like the mummy, you can't miss it- ancient history is more spectacular.

One woman explained her connection to the spiders in the glass jars. A particular spider, reminds me of my Uncle, he would pretend to hold one in his hand and chase me round the room. I didn't like him much, and I hated spiders! It was the fear of not knowing. 

One man choice the flint collection; I remember trying to make axes and bows and arrows when I was a child, without much success... 

A short question 'what objects do you connect to and why?  produced a wide variety of answers, and as ever in this project, made me re-look/re-think museums.

Edward the 3rd Silver penny

Do you know where the coins are?  was the opening lines from an older visitor to the museum. It turned out she had a deeply felt connection to the museum and in particular one object. 

I was walking up Cairo Street, where they were building Golden Square, when I saw a lovely shinny button, I bent to pick it up. My daughter says thats not a button but a penny, a silver penny. This is the first time I've been in the museum since I was a little girl (except to donate that penny) A silver penny, it goes back years and years. The church made the pennys in those days. I got a scroll from the Major of Warrington thanking me. A silver penny it was, at the old market, they were knocking buildings down and starting to dig. It wasn't declared treasure, so I asked my son if he wanted it, I asked if my daughter wanted it, they didn't so I gave it to the museum. 

This silver penny is in here somewhere, 19 or 20 when I last came in here, now I'm 80. Its small, not as big as my thumb nail, probably a months wages back then, quite a loss. The Guardian Office made a story of it, I've still got the scroll from the Lord Major, had it framed. 

Her concern now was to make sure it was still safe, so Craig from the museum went off to look in the records to find the details. Mrs G. left the museum clutching a piece of paper with all the details of her coin written on. 'Edward the 3rd silver penny... dates from 1369-1377....

I was so pleased to have been involved in a small way with this encounter. It was a timely reminder of the often complicated history of an object- not just why it was made, or who owned it, or what was it used for or its financial value, but also how an item ends up in a museum, its journey to a cabinet or store cupboard. Its not just Victorian collectors and philanthropists who stocked our museums,  but everyday people finding objects with their metal detectors or simply picking up a penny in the street, creating museums that really do belong to everyone.