Day One (ish)

Approx 8 minute read

It’s here. Day one, sort of. The high spring tide and easterly winds, meant that the plan to start the residency on the 1 March was not going to be possible. Instead I set off to Gravesend on Sunday morning. I’ve been able to borrow a car from a friend which makes this residency possible, without it I’m not I would visit at all. I don’t like the carbon implications so I’ll be looking for ways to offset and on the drive down I wonder about walking or cycling to Gravesham. I’m pretty sure I could go one way but not quite sure I’d get back again.  

I’m also thinking about how appropriate it is to travel at this time.  My job is being an artist, it feels quite complicated and a bit icky to say that but that’s for a whole other blog. I should have been in Gravesham for a month. It’s not appropriate to do that and I’ve re-arranged most of the work so that I won’t be there. But this is work. I still feel conflicted and uncertain – testing for Covid, not using public transport, wearing a mask and keeping distance are the mitigations we’ve put in place. 

It’s a misty morning and I catch a glimpse of chalk cliffs under Northfleet as I drive in. I  arrive in a misty, damp Gravesend. The roads were quiet and I’ve made good time so I potter down from the car, stopping at a statue of Queen Elizabeth II, dressed in full regalia she sits looking down on the quay and the Three Daws pub. It was unveiled to celebrate the queen becoming the longest ruling monarch and sits in Elizabeth Gardens. In the gardens behind the statue a small tent hugs the wall. Someone is sleeping and living here. Further along a statue of Squadron Leader Mahinder Singh Pujii commemorates the contribution of all those from all around the world who served alongside Britain in all conflicts, 1914-2014. There’s a relaxed assuredness to this statue, gazing back up the hill to the market place, one hand in pocket. Both statues were created by Douglas Jennings. Statues, and public memorials, become a thread that runs through the day. 

I go onto the foreshore and do some mudlarking. Or is it beachcombing here? There’s seaweed and a salty smell. I really should put beachcombing on my CV – I love it and I’ve been doing it since I was a child. My nervousness settles as I sift through the orange and brown pebbles with my eyes. There’s lots of glass and fragments of pottery, washed smooth by the water. Small flint pebbles and mother of pearl from shells. Then I spot a bright green ivy leaf and I’m transported back to my ritual on 17 January. I’m reminded that there are always connections.

Päivi, Gary and Tan Tan the dog arrive. We say our hello’s, masked, at a distance and walk over to LV21. Gary tidies away the litter from a small gathering, cans and nitrous cannisters. I’m trying not to judge others but wonder who gathered here. We go aboard and I begin exploring the ship again. Grounding myself in the place. An oily metallic smell, that reminds me of my Grandad. I love this space. The homely touches of red enamel pots, the piles of huge chain and sea charts connect me to industrial and maritime past and lots of practical skills. There’s a room with paintings and collages of LV21, highly skilled artists work sits next to  a child’s felt tip drawing. All celebrated.  Päivi has gathered a collection of books I might like, and I collect some scraps of rope. I hope that these will bring the smell of the ship to my flat. 

It’s a special day in Finland, The Kalevala Day is a celebration in honour of the epic piece of literature of the same name. It’s a day that celebrates an important cultural moment for the Finns. Their unique language and culture, distinct from Sweden and Russia, being recognised and celebrated. Päivi has collected some books, in Finnish, English and a children’s version. It’s a lovely gift to be invited into this moment of national pride, and I wish I could settle in for an evening of reading on the ship.

I could spend hours exploring LV21, below deck I get to see the original lantern light up and listen to the tide rising, lapping at the outside of the ship. Gary takes me up the top of the ship, an adventure up metal ladders rewarded with a stunning view. The water is unusually slack and the usual sounds and movements that cue the rising tide aren’t quite there. Päivi is a little perplexed. We get the timing slightly wrong and the ship is afloat so it’s not easy to get off. So we stay – it’ll be about an hour until it’s easy to leave. When I was last here I could see lots of cruise ships by Tilbury. Covid was bringing them all to shore. They’ve gone, and many of them are already being taken apart for scrap somewhere in India. Päivi also notes how quite the river is – I’ve only seen one tanker come in. Usually, she tells me, the river would be very busy. Covid has reduced the river traffic but Päivi has notice more of a dip since Brexit. She also tells me how, as a Finn, a European who has made her home here, she feels less emotionally anchored to the UK post Brexit. I learn that LV21 was made possible with European funding.

I spend a very happy hour chatting with Päivi and Gary, about how LV21 came into their lives, how they met and what lockdown has been like for them.  We discover connections, World Famous, an amazing firework company my sister worked with,  helped launch LV21 at Medway Festival. I get to hear about all the people who have supported them and the ship. Tan Tan patiently waits in best seat on board – curled in a blanket in front of the stove. I must remember that the residency is about the whole of Gravesham – and not just this fascinating ship. 

The tide recedes and LV21 settles into her muddy bed and I depart with a bag of books and rope. I’m sad to leave but it’s nice to take my mask off. The food stalls in the market are open and I abandon the flask of soup I bought and buy a Thai green curry. I’m amazed that the market has been there since 1238 – announced on the vinyl sides of the empty market stalls. It’s a ridiculous amount of time. I sort of can’t comprehend it.  A statue of Queen Victoria, one of a list of monarchs who renewed the market charter looks over the empty stalls.

While I wait for the curry I quickly explore Queen St, so many different cultures food represented in one short street. I make a mental note that I want to try @blueseats, African American food when I can.

I strike out for the promenade to find a bench to eat on. I let myself get gently lost, enjoying the bird song on the radar tower on the Port of London building. I’m surprised by a fort – complete with guns and canons. My curry is getting cold so I skirt past and find an empty bench on the prom and tuck. It’s spicy and delicious. The mist has cleared and it’s a bright, cold day.

The prom is busy with families, couples, small children scooting with great focus, and lots of dogs. This seems to be a very diverse community – different languages, symbols of faith, skin tones peeping out between masks and bobble hats. There’s a sloping beach and the river is lapping gently. I feel like I’m on holiday. I’ve barely been anywhere for a year and it’s exciting and a bit overwhelming to be somewhere new. I notice the cranes at Tilbury, huge wind turbines (which always make me feel hopeful), bare tree branches and a cluster of huge pylons. Lots of lines reaching up.

All of the on the prom benches have plaques in memory of someone, a few have bright flowers tucked into the back. I walk to the end of the promenade, past the Embankment Marina and suddenly I’m walking down a narrow, brick road between decaying warehouses. On my right a rusting red corrugated metal warehouse contrasts with the deep blue sky. Only the frame of the roof remains and I spend a while trying, and failing, to get a good photo with my camera phone. It’s like the tide washed through this alley, leaving tyres and detritus washed against the buildings. It all feels empty, but it is Sunday in a pandemic. Maybe it’s usually busier? As I walk along I hear a radio and in the other end of the iron warehouse someone is working under a white van. Just past this point I hear barking dogs, I think in a brick warehouse, but I get nervous and head back. 

At the prom I buy a very tasty salted caramel ice cream and wander around the park, complete with fountains and people fishing. I make my way to a skate park – BMX, scooters, skateboards and mountain bikes all whizzing around against a graffiti backdrop.  Two trotting ponies are tied up. I’m getting tired and let myself meander back to the car.

At the Clock Tower there are funeral flowers on the steps – more remembering. I wonder who they were for?

Before I leave Gravesend I collect a small jar of soil from Elizabeth Gardens and a small bottle of water from the river. I’m exploring how to stay connected to the place when I’m 22 miles away. I’ll add those to the Ivy leaf, a small piece of seaweed and my beachcombing treasures.

I drive back to London – it’s a stunning sunset of oranges and pinks, softening to clear peaches and blues as the sun dips below the horizon. I come home a new way, using the Dartford Tunnel and it’s slightly terrifying – complex road layouts and traffic. When I can I reflect on things I’ve encountered today that make me think of pride.

• So much on LV21, but especially the ceiling of the Rec Room where the bitumen was chipped off by hand.
• The Kelavala books
• The statues, benches and memorials
• The vinyl sides of market stalls
• Queenie and Flossy, two small boat planters
• The painted chain and the rope patterns on the fence by Embankment Marina
• The ‘Gravesend Rowing Club Est 1878’ sign painted on the back of the clubhouse
• The Clock Tower

I return home and I’m back into my real world. With an unwell Dad needing support and a husband recovering from a head injury. It’s going to be challenging to stay connected to the idea of a residency. I move the table that is my desk to the other position it can be in. I think I need to disrupt my everyday in little ways that I can, to keep me from comfortable ruts.

I’m not going to record the Coronavirus numbers everyday. It’s important, it’s the context of our lives but it’s not my focus. Instead I’ll update on my midpoint check in around 16 March and at the end of the residency. 

In the UK there have 4.17 million confirmed cases of Covid and 122,849 deaths within 28 days of a positive test. But 20,089,551 people have been vaccinated.