Folklore & Tradition - Tar Barrel Rolling

In my attempt to uncover age old traditions as part of our culture I attended the annual tar barrel rolling in Ottery St Mary. This tradition dates back to the 17th Century and occurs every bonfire night to commemorate Guy Fawkes and burn the spirits of evil. It consists of setting alight wooden barrels containing tar, wood scrapings and paraffin. Once alight the barrels are carried through the streets of the town on the backs of the local men, who pass the barrel between them until it burns out. The event attracts thousands of people each year who fill the streets and square of the town creating a thick crowd that then have to avoid the burning barrels as they dart through the streets. This adrenaline filled event is reminiscent of Spanish bull running due to the collective fear and excitement of the crowd. When partaking in this event the herd like behaviour of the crowd seemed of another time, one that belonged far back in the zeitgeist of history resurrected each year.





The final barrel upon being dropped and becoming mass of embers and smoke is surrounded by the local barrel men who lock arms and sing songs. The smog covered faces and clothing of each man lit only by the red glow of the embers and surrounded by the noise of the crowd connoted some old age ceremony. The men look almost satanic in this moment, separate from the outside world. The hoards of cameras and tourists surrounding them become indifferent to the event. It is in this space that the tradition really lives on.

Irish Travellers

There are about 25,000 Irish Travellers in Ireland and 1,300 in Northern Ireland.

Following link will take you to an article about Irish Travellers.
http://www.essortment.com/all/irishtravellers_ryjv.htm




It is estimated there are between 200,000 and 300,000 Gypsy and Irish Travellers in the UK. (English Heritage Online)

I went along to the encampment at laira bridge to ask the travellers if i could interview them and take some photographs. These travellers had cut through a fence and are illegally camped on a site just outside of Plymouth city centre. My interpretor and I walked into the camp and approached a couple of men who immediately demanded my reason for being there, upon explaining my project and asking whether they would mind if I took a few photographs more people arrived. Although not overtly threatening there was an aggressive edge to their behaviour and they became rather hostile and persuasive once they understood my request. They decided we would have to pay £100 in order to take photographs of the site, which we could only haggle down to £50. What became clear was their drive for money, as soon as the prospect of getting some cash became viable we were surrounded and told to go to the cash point immediately and asked to confirm what time we would be coming back in an attempt to secure a deal... Even the children were asking us for our cameras and wallets. It was as if some ideology of gleaning money off every person who stumbles across you is engrained at an early age.


illegal camp of Irish travellers - photographed secretly - Harry Hilliar




The interesting thing for me about this type of travellers is that they live in contradiction to the romantic notion of romani gypsies living off the land and travelling from place to place offering aggricultural labour in return for a piece of land to settle for a while. These travellers all owned brand new expensive cars and caravans, preferred concrete settlements to grass ones and had sought out an inner city dwelling as opposed to a rural one. Instead of opposing the capitalist society and seeking an alternative existance their ideals and behaviour would suggest that they are infact wholesale subscribers to the capitalist machine, driven by the lust for cash. I do not know whether these cars and caravans are the majority of their possessions or whether or not they pay taxes. I continue to try and maintain a objective opinion of each traveller I come across however the danger of calling these type of travellers untrustworthy and dishonest is ever present and exemlified in this short clip below.

Road-side Dwellings

This is a large encampment situated next to a dual carriageway. The small plot of land inhabits over fifty mobile camper vans and buses, there is a tree house and what appears to be communal areas incorporated into the layout of the space. These travellers seem to have set up long term living arrangements with more substantial development visible on the land. The area itself is contained within a large fence which surrounds the enclosure. When taking these photos there was little sign of the people themselves but obvious effort had been made to secure the space from outside interference. There was a definite atmosphere that made me feel that they did not want to be approached and preferred to be left alone.





The gateway into the encampment showed further signs of more permanent dwellings; the district council rubbish bins and post box signify that the inhabitants may have legally acquired land rights and were more integrated into society, contributing to some extent. They considered themselves residents of a private community as opposed to the more nomadic travellers who move from lay by to lay by.



This smaller dwelling, not far from the larger one above is similar with regard to the sense of a more permanent dwelling. The gate and other structures are not easily disassembled. Being roadside there is visible effort to create some privacy, beyond the space there is a railway behind so that the space is effective secluded. The gate and use of foliage allow the actual habitat to be secluded out of sight yet unlike other encampments I have discovered there is a sense of homeliness and pride. There has been a conscious effort to establish a aesthetically pleasing and warm feel to the space; a gate itself is a restrictive barrier, yet the sunshine emblem detracts from these cold connotations creating a binary; 'we like to keep our land private, but we are friendly...'



This next space is much more temporary than the two above. Situated in a large lay by on a main road. It consists of three vans that could easily be moved at any time. Unlike the other spaces there has been no attempt to prevent access to the space although the positioning of the vans seem to connote an encampment which I would feel reserved about intruding upon. There is however no apparent attempt to uphold any privacy or make claim to the land.





In this camp a great effort has been made to create a warm homely feel, this has been achieved with the use of the trestle fence and the gents sign... Although like the sunshine gate these still function to create privacy but the same friendly sentiment is ensured. This space has been inhabited for as long as I can remember but by different people at different times. The play equipment suggest that there are probably young children resident and I would guess that this is a small family dwelling, unoffensive yet designed to be humble and private. Simply the character of the various furnishings in each case (this one and the sunshine gate) make them seem much more open to outsiders and friendly, something which is purely speculative and make not even be so.





This last example is situated down a green lane, a 'no through road' for vehicles. There is a small farm house and outbuildings at the end of the lane and various spaces being adapted for something or other at the beginning of the track. Although within walking distance from the town this area is the most secluded from public roads and pathways of all of these dwellings. The path is used by persons on foot alone as a shortcut from local villages into the town. The space did not have such a friendly feel due to large metal fences and barbed wire; symbollic of 'get out, private...'



This message 'pay ur debts paine' refers to a local man of the town who is accused of owing money, this is the second public notice of the accusation and apart from being oddly placed suggests that the person in question is living nearby but also enforces the cold unfriendly aspect of the place. I did not feel comfortable spending much time here as it seemed I was intruding and would be met with aggression if seen. This is also speculative and may not be the case in reality.

Alternative Lifestyle/Escapsism

Yurt Village, Sharpham Devon - Photographs by Harry Hilliar

The following images are ones that I took whilst reseaching for this project.
This small community hidden away in the South West consists of five yurts, a wooden shed kitchen and an outside toilet and shower block. The first impressions of this space was the beauty of the location, surrounded by gardens and a large river this space seemed to epitomise the romanticism of outdoor living.





There is one permanent dweller, the other five volunteer for three months before moving on. Free living is provided in exchange for labour which mainly consists of working on the large vegetable garden within the land. This being my first exploration into such living I was anxious about whether they would be accepting of my intrusion into their space. I received a warm welcome and was surprised by the friendly positive atmosphere. The space itself was immaculate and well kept. Through conversing with the inhabitants it became evident that they were not as self sufficient than would have liked to be and were still very much involved with the commodities of modern living.




Most used mobile phones, computers and drove to neighbouring towns to buy food and toiletries. They all seemed to adopt the view of organic self sufficient living as an ideal to strive toward. The main constrain in achieving this I was informed being financial, although able to cultivate their own vegetables and keep chickens, the need for energy, namely solar power, was regarded as a vital step towards self sustainability which they held as vitally important yet were unable to afford the equipment.The irony to this settlement however was that their encampment resided within the grounds of an old manor house, which now serving as a charity and small business granted them the space in return for the vegetables gain from their labour to be cooked in the public restaurant nearby. Although they lived in relative isolation, the means to such lifestyle were enabled by the aristocrats of the past and the arrangement with the modern business today.



Communal living stay and work for keep - then move on - there are hundreds of sites in the UK and thousands wordwide.

http://www.wwoof.org/

In addition to these voluntary schemes there are more commercial holiday FINISH THIS PROSE


Photograph of Yurt at Poundsgate, Dartmoor. - Harry Hilliar

Commercial Yurts

For those people seeking to escape from the mundane way of life and who like the romantic notion of staying in a yurt there are holiday sites they can go to. They can go and stay in Mongolian Yurts and get away from it all without actually having to work for their keep.

Click on the following link to see the authentic Mongolian Yurts and other images of this 'holiday' destination. www.yurtvillage.co.uk/

Get back to nature and stay in one of our six Mongolian Yurts.






'It sounds cliched but we felt that we really did get away from it all"
http://www.yurtcamp.co.uk/facilities.htm
Images from website.

Tree Houses

Treehouses

This tree house is virtually invisible from any public path or space and exists unknown to most. The owner lives here all year round after building the construction himself. It consists of two levels, a kitchen, and a living/sleeping space. Access is via the ladder and requires some agility and branch negotiation. There is a wood burning fire with chimney and oil lamps for light. Like the nearby yurts this dwelling is only accessible via a long walk with no access for cars. Similarly the structure can be considered temporary as there are no permanent changes to the land made by its construction.

Reflective Thought

Based on the range of theories explored through my secondary research I am able to make an analysis of my own experience in relation to such ideas.

'It is place, permanent position in both the social and topographical sense, that gives us our identity.' (J.B. Jackson)


The Early Years

I grew up in a small village, where I have spent a great deal of my life and still live today. Compared to a lot of places in the world it was a safe and friendly village. The inhabitants were all of a similar demographic, families with children of similar ages living in a small community. Everyone knew everyone and those who didn't kept to themselves, as a result I was allowed to roam free knowing that there would always be a familiar face nearby if anything were to happen. The village lies in a valley with a river running through the middle, on each side there are fields and woods, my house is right on the river at the edge of village which inhabits no more than perhaps 800 people. In this sense my upbringing was in many ways idyllic and fortunate.

'The home is of huge social significance. We spend much of our lives in the home, our primary emotional connections are shaped in the domestic arena of the home; where we live and how we live are important determinants of our social position, physical heath and individual well being.' (Short cited in Cieraad, 1999:ix)


Home in England, my house in the valley.

The village park where I would spend many long days with friends, sat on the hillside beside the school. In the center was the village green, with a shop and a church; your average quaint Devon village. We would often climb to the top of the valley and look down, pointing out each others houses. At that time it seemed that this view alone was all we needed and that the world beyond was of no significance. I think we were to engaged with the space we had. We weren't looking to travel, we were content with our bikes and skateboards and whatever. In a way I guess that we thought it would all be the same whichever village we went to. From the top of the valley you could see for miles and it all looked the same. Why venture farther when life is good here and this place is ours. On reflection there must have been hundreds of other citizens using the same roads and benches, the farmers on either side undoubtedly owned the fields yet perhaps due to the amount of time spent in each place and the fact that we had so many secret places that not many people knew about made us feel as though the space was ours. Not exclusively, for we understood that each space was either public or private, and in the latter case we were usually trespassing but with a certain pride. In the summer we would offer directions to tourists, we would carve our names into trees or make dirt jumps in the park. These actions served to reaffirm our sense of authority and belonging to our childhood years.


Village annual tug of war on the village green.

The school, attended by most of my friends at the time, was another popular space to congregate after school hours. I was one of the few not to attend the school, resulting in my feeling slightly more detached from the space. During the week the building and its grounds were alien to me yet formed much of my friends relations as the place the became united. Other friends of theirs attending the school yet living in neighboring villages would visit after school and there relation to the space was one to which I could not relate. For me the school was a playground without the elements of education and institution that my friends encountered. I attended the Royal School for the Deaf in Exeter, far from our collective territory this was another part of my world which I would transcend between Monday to Friday. Friends would await my taxi and welcome me back into the village to go out and explore some more.

The village was our place, our comfort zone, our territory.

Any exploration outside of the three mile parish that encompassed the village and its surroundings was made through our parents. This distinction between the independence of our exploration within the parish and the wider excursions to the coast or moors which was always decided by the adults. For example I could walk out of my front door and wander as I pleased. When taken to the beach however, we would be under greater supervision and even more so in the surrounding towns. This is obviously due to the perceived threat of such spaces but the result of which was to create the impression that these spaces were not so much our own, and although they became familiar with frequent visits, the impression was given that the outside world was not to be explored as freely as our own village. Had we all had the means in which to do so; transport, money... I am unsure that we would have expanded our horizons much at that age.

'A person in the process of time invests bits of his emotional life in his home and beyond the home in his neighborhood [...] its familiarity protects the human being from the bewilderment's of the outside world.' (Tuan 1990:99)

Looking back now I feel that I have come a long way from those days. I still live in the same village but cannot remember the last time I set foot in the park. My world has spread far beyond that which I knew as a child. Now I return home to eat and sleep, the only time I spend in the village is either at home, in the local pub or briefly stopping at the shop or garage for food or petrol. The familiarity of this place is such that I no longer pay any attention to it, it has become a part of me almost like my hands or my feet, requires no thought and doesn't really change. I can wander far from home for months on end and return with indifference.

Passing my driving test changed my life. I could travel independently from place to place. The freedom allowed me unrestricted access to anywhere accessible by road. The places I had spent most of my time, the beaches I had surfed since I was young, always reliant on the generosity of my parents were now places I would visit on a regular basis. This drive to various points of the local coastline became part of my identity. We would attach stickers to road signs on route to our favourite surfing spots, in a similar way to carving my name in the village trees, we were establishing our identity. These beaches and roads became a wider part of my world. I also began to acknowledge the possibilities of exploration, my car providing the safety and allowing me to travel further and further from home.



Once I had realised this ambition to see the world on my own terms, to feel the freedom of the open world and to find new spaces I began to look further afar.

'A sense of place results gradually and unconsciously from inhabiting a landscape over time, becoming familiar with its physical properties, accruing history within its confines,' (Rydon PLACE)

Space & Place Abroad

Greece

Before I was born my parents were living and traveling around Greece. Two weeks prior to my birth they flew back to England due to the lack of a decent hospital. Being a influential space in my parents relationship and where the family began we would return to the same Greek village for years to come. Being integrated into the local society much as I have described my own village in England, the annual month spent in Greece was a home away from home. Unlike many children abroad at such a young age I was left to wander, protected by the local crowd who knew my parents, to any onlooker I was as much one of the villagers than an outsider. They fed me, entertained me, gave me access to the kitchen in the local restaurant and I could explore, mess around with the local kids and meet up with my parents as I wished.







France

Another place where we would travel for holidays was Messanges on the South Atlantic Coast of France. We would camp near the beach in the vast pine forest and spend the days at the beach and around the local area. It didn't take long to make friends with the local kids once more a friendship that I still maintain and return every year to spend the summer months with. Now I have my van I no longer need the campsite but can use friends houses and park in free camping car spots or in lay bys. This village and these people will always remain close to me, the fact that we meet for only one month or so every year makes no difference to our friendship, when I arrive it is as if I have only recently left.



Fuerteventura

Once my interest in surfing progressed there was little else I wanted to do. Being in the water was liberating, I could spend hours in the waves and come ashore only to eat and rest before heading back out. Greece therefore became less appealing than France due to the lack of waves. Fuerteventura became the winter destination that would represent family Christmas for years. This was a desolate island, volcanic rock covered in Saharan sand that had blew across the ocean. We found the north shore to be the best for surfing and soon became acquainted with a small village and the nearby town. Made friends with some ex patriots living nearby as well as some travellers that had settled for a while, working in the pizzeria or the local surf shop. Returning each Christmas for years to come these people became familiar faces each time although they were always older and more friends with my parents than myself. Most years we would be with other friends and families other than our own so that I would always have friends from home to surf with. With hindsight this and the surf magazines we would look at was the first steps into the desire to travel and surf all across the world.




Surfing and the ethos often connected to it is directly related to travel. The search for the perfect wave the crowd less beach of the most beautiful island. Surfing magazines are always talking of new spots and exotic locations yet to be discovered, warm water and constant swell. Each surfing community has its local crowd, for me there were at least a dozen friends that I still surf with on a weekly basis, each come and go for months on end, either planning a trip somewhere or recently returned with stories of adventure. As soon as we were old enough to venture further the foreign seas were already calling.



Australia

I competed in the 2005 deaf Olympics held in Melbourne. My swimming had already taken me abroad several times across Europe yet the possibility of travelling half way across the world was one that I could not let slip and trained hard to qualify. After the Olympics my family and I hired a large van and explored the coast line. Surfing at every spot we passed and camping out in the wild.

South America

I flew out to Argentina during my gap year between college and university. This was not planned to be a surf trip and we didn't take our boards. We worked our way from Buenos Aires across the coast of Uruguay up through Brazil surfing whenever we found a wave and a board. We then crossed the continent through Argentina once more and into Northern Chile, Bolivia and Peru where we surfed again at various points, we finished up in Colombia looking for waves yet finding none in the calm Caribbean seas.

Being abroad was not as different as I had imagined, the language barrier was no greater or worse than it was for me in England. Hardly anyone uses sign language in England, hardly anyone in South America. Therefore in terms of communication I felt no better or worse off, I could talk to anyone I wanted to in the same way as always, using universal signs and gestures. In this respect I felt just as at ease whichever country I was in, the vast majority of people I met were extremely friendly and I felt confidant that the world was on the whole a good and safe place. Colombia was often said to be dangerous and a risky place to travel within. I would agree that there are certain dangers and one has to be much more cautious in Colombia yet the people and the various places I visited brought me nothing but fun and adventure. I may be naive in my reflections but I still feel that to this day I would feel happy to jump on a plane and arrive in a new place without worrying about the possible dangers and threats involved. These threats exist everywhere, it is important to remember to be considerate and informed of each countries problems and situations but also to be intrepid and positive when abroad.



Hawaii



I attended the 2009 Deaf World Surf Championships in Hawaii. I was the only English competitor and travelled alone. I was met by organisors of the event and given a bed in a front room for the first night. What was amazing about the event was the number of Deaf competitors from all over the world that came together for three and a half weeks and lived, surfed, drank, ate together and had a great time throughout. I made many new friends some of which local, who let me crash in thier house the entire time I was there. We would hire motorbikes and eplore the island, looking for good waves or head into the rainforest. Once again I felt incredibly content to be in such a beautiful place with so many new friends that I could quite happily have stayed for years.




Now I am living back in the village where I was born and grew up, I am eager to go abroad as soon as possible. Although I have strong connections with the space I live in, I also know that it will always remain and I can return home whenever I choose.