When I visited the Quaker Meeting House in January to view the possibilities of the site, I noticed some of the imposing Victorian wall that encloses this little pocket of land and time had collapsed.  The wall was put up around 1880, following the Enclosures Act of Epping Forest, which stopped the willy-nilly land-grab that had been going on and returned the ownership to the authorities.

In a redeeming act of philanthropy, the Quakers were allowed to keep their parcel of land & the building on it because they were using it for spiritual and community purposes.  That history evoked all kinds of ideas about things that have happened in the forest, and became a springboard to imagine other forest-type goings on past, present & future.

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So this piece evolved as an embodiment of these imagined happenings, a set of modern folk tales for dwellers on this suburban edge of London where everybody is somewhat affected (knowingly or not) by their proximity to the forest.  The tales are narrated by “Alice”, a near-credible human facsimile whose mellifluous RP issues from each house as it marches, with grim determination, across any likely looking bit of land.


The audio loop flashes past in under 4 minutes, but the content is quite dense if anyone cares to interpret it; I hope the sculptural embodiment is more than illustrative.

Here’s the original text; hopefully I’ll get the audio on here shortly as Alice’s delivery is worth hearing – in the mean-time imagine a better version of your SatNav is reading you this bed-time story:

The beginning

Some houses were looking for people to move in.

They found a space in a wood that looked safe and welcoming, and rooted themselves in.

Soon they put up For Sale boards and had viewings; they sold like hotcakes and people worked hard to set up homes in them.  The new inhabitants were sure they would never want to move again.

Unfortunately, the unusual construction of the dwellings proved fatal.


The forest part 1

A forest was growing; just like it always had.

But then people started proliferating like rabbits all over the place. and then they were jacking the land willy nilly to live on or farm etc.

So a spell was cast, to stop everyone kick starting their land owning careers – although to be honest, it was already too late for that.

Hidden behind the protection of the spell, the forest has been planning to take its own back.


Solving needs

A witch was adept at luring families into her woods.  She created a marching army of desirable and affordable new homes that could transport the tender young residents wherever she wanted.

All the dwellers worked hard to create a beautiful place to nurture themselves and cherish their loved ones, never suspecting each sleep might be their very last.

The witch was never short of buyers or food.


Are we living in a Golden Age?

A long time ago, before Science, people had a wide range of measures to keep themselves safe and well, such as spells, charms, divining, runes, ritual offerings and so on and so forth.

It was all very hit and miss without modern accoutrements and devices. But at the time it was all people had, and they needed to believe in it, so they would have enough optimism and hope to build purposeful lives.

It worked enough for people to survive and multiply until they could sort the world out using Logic And Hard Facts.

And after that, no-one needed to believe in anything anymore, as a Golden Age had arrived, and Everybody said so.


The haunting

Imagine I am your new home.

I seemed like a bargain when you bought me but now you are giving some credence to the rumours you heard about me.

At the moment I am enjoying your home-making endeavours, you show great taste and I really appreciate the TLC.

But I have other plans for you because, you see, I am haunted.

I have already started on some classic tricks and now you are worried you are losing your mind.  (This is the most intricate part of haunting but it’s just work for me; remember I did not choose to be haunted and I didn’t choose you; you chose me.)

Soon you’ll try religion or some other form of spiritual protection.

Knock yourself out; in the end we always all go up in flames.


The forest part 2

Once upon a time, on the edge of a large city, was a bit of land that had been there forever.  It was pretty much just scrub and old trees.

The city had its eye on the land but the land was protected by a spell.  No-one was allowed to live there; people could just mess about, walk their dogs and bury their murder victims.

The spell was so powerful that no-one noticed the forces of nature slowly mustering to literally get their own back.  Pernicious saplings busted gutters, foul nests stuck in chimneys, foxes foxed right in your face. Great sections of roads and pavements had unholy cracks and potholes, that to anyone not spellbound, would have suggested the vast network of roots beneath.

Normal life was ready to crack; the land had its revenge all ready and waiting – and in the end, accomplished it with such swift economy that experts are now certain there never was any city at all.


The end.