Co-creating places with contemporary folklore ritual

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Co-creating places with contemporary folklore ritual

Steven Herbert

Nov 17, 2024

Transcript

Green Man postbox topper crocheted by the artist Kerry McKenna

Over the last three weeks I have come across examples of contemporary ritual which I have found intriguing. Residents and tourists have chosen to be co-creators of their spaces; they didn't need anyone's permission to participate in their ritual, often turning a space into a place - a 'somewhere' which has acquired meaning.

So in early November my wife and I visited Avebury in Wiltshire; this is a world heritage site famous for its stone circles. A village grew-up within the circle, and it is a mecca for tourists. The National Trust looks after the circle, and as you would expect their is a museum, cafe, pub and shops. This is a popular destination for visitors even at this time of year.

It was around Halloween, and some of the residents had gone to a lot of trouble to display pumpkin lanterns, many were accompanied with a pint of beer and a plate of biscuits - presumably for the spirits of those who had recently passed.

Obviously this is a common ritual across the country, yet another piece a contemporary folklore was present - the postbox topper. This crocheted piece of artwork with the face of the green man, was proudly sitting on the top of the red Royal Mail postbox. This woollen object was backed with a black painted plywood, allowing it to sit vertically on the crown of the ironwork. The details of the artist were on the back, and I am guessing the lady who made it, Kerry McKenna, lives outside the village.

These two examples were within the heart of the village, yet we discovered another example which was slightly further a field. We waited for a lady to make her way down the steps and through the gate, behind her was a field of standing stones.

"Is there anything interesting to see where you've come from?" I asked.

"Not really" she said in a gormless fashion. How wrong she was.

Beyond the gate and the steps was the rag tree. Approaching it exuding an atmosphere of enchantment. The tree in question was a mature beech, I wouldn't say it was ancient just fully grown, and was one tree amongst many. It was in a discrete place, adjacent to the steps, yet couldn't easily be observed by others. Its lower branches were about a metre from the ground making it a candidate for people to attach ribbons or pieces of cloth. Someone had attached a laminated piece of paper, with a hand written and heartfelt message to a loved one who had recently died.

The rag tree at Avebury - attached heart-felt message

Ribbons of all colours and the occasional beaded object, tied to the tree stems, gently swayed in the light breeze. Many of the ribbons had messages or names written on them, and this raised questions in my mind.

Were people coming here as tourists or pilgrims?

Were they here to see the rag tree or help co-create it?

What were their motives?

Some of the deposits, if we can call the ribbons that, were to commemorate someone, yet some of the ribbons had writing on them which were more abstract: 'wear feel relax' was written on one. Maybe some people attached a ribbon just so they could contribute to the rag tree.

We could find only one rag tree at Avebury, indeed it was an example of space objectified because it was THE rag tree.

Avebury got me thinking. Where locally to me would you expect a contemporary ritual to occur? By this I mean a love-lock assemblage, a rag tree, or a place were people would make votive offerings. It just so happened that my wife was meeting friends in Abingdon on Thames, a place not too far from where we live.

Confluence of the river Ock with the Thames as Abingdon

I remembered that river confluences, that is to say where one watercourse joins with another, have historically been considered sacred places. It turns out that our local stream, the Humber Ditch, joins the Letcombe Brook, which in turn joins the Childrey Brook, which in turn joins the river Ock, which in turn joins the mighty Thames. And importantly, this is the place that Abingdon grew from.

Walking to this spot I called in on a church, St Helens, which is close to the confluence. It is thought to occupy the site of the St Helenstowe nunnery, founded around 670 AD. The interpretation board outside the church says, 'it is quite possible that there was a pagan shrine here'. To my mind this suggests the confluence was always a sacred space.

Leaving the church, I followed the path to the river and then the route along the embankment. It is a beautiful spot, with boats moored along the Thames, and pigeons perched on the post and rail fencing, waiting for generous passers-by. I was surprised to see the nearby pub, The Anchor, vacant, particularly as a steady stream of visitors had passed me - how could they been short on customers?

Carrying on I came to a small bridge: 'Erected By The Wilts and Berks Canal Company 1824' - it was the bridge over the river Ock at the confluence with the Thames. Importantly, the bridge had railings which made it a prime site for a love-lock assemblage. There was a lonely silver padlock attached but it had no inscription to confirm it was a love-lock - a hapless cyclist could have attached it. I crossed the bridge and sat on a nearby bench.

Whilst the confluence is a beautiful place, the area adjacent didn't feel sacred nor special - maybe two thousand years ago it might have been. The nearest thing I saw to a votive offering were people throwing corn in the water for the swans and ducks to eat. Unlike Avebury, I saw no evidence of co-creating pilgrim tourists - there was no evidence of people co-creating this space, it had no vibe nor energy - you arrive, consumed the beauty, then bugger off.

I get the impression Abingdon people would frown at love-lock assemblages, rag trees, or makeshift shrines - one of the plethora of Council's who are based here would remove them. Remarkably, there is even a local authority whose main offices are based in the town, yet this is not even their district! Maybe, the confluence may not be discrete enough for contemporary folk rituals to occur; too many prying eyes, too many government employees. Resultantly, the place feels sterile.

But does it matter? I think it is a matter of consciousness. Paying homage to a river by making an offering of a coin, or discarding the love-lock key into the water creates a sense of connection with the river. There are proposals for the for a whopping great reservoir to be built up stream, comparable in size to Abingdon, and this would result in bypass surgery to some of the tributaries of the river Ock - an insult to this river deity. But be warned: the trouble with river deities is they are vengeful, pouring their wrath on those living downstream.