Co-created Urban Tours

It is an experiment of democratizing space through sharing stories and narratives. On these tours we work together as a team of participants to uncover and create new narratives for the urban spaces we inhabit. The tour is guided by the materiality of the space itself, specifically those features we once thought were perhaps somewhat mundane, i.e. a leaky pipe or drain spout.

The next tour will be taking place in Montreal, Canada! Want to join? Contact me and I will add you to the list.

Images from walk that took place in Brighton UK January 2020

Beautiful poem written by Amy Anam Cara Brangwyn summarizing the Brighton UK January 2020 Tour

This tiny patch of grass and black lava,
Pooped out by a travelling fox upon his mighty return,
From a volcanic island.
In the Canaries no less.
You can ask him if you like,
He keeps a mobile phone under a tree.
Most foxes do apparently.

If you take fifteen steps back
From this exact spot
You will find,
Nestled between the red and white lego bricks
Belonging to a sewer troll
An urban crazy golf course.
Designed to enable the mysterious Craig to become
12 years in a row.
To some it looks like roadworks,
But they are just having a laugh on us.
The road is actually fine.
In fact, in reality
Viking Ships sail beneath us on an underground river,
Collecting tiny golf balls
And returning them above ground in exchange for horns of mead.

Around the corner is a bathroom
Where they said cold words once.
And as if by a magic spell there appeared the very human
Who was being cold worded about.
In that very toilet.
Not a moment later they saw a lady
Tumble from atop her bicycle
And sometime hence purchased hand moisturiser and tissues
From the corner store.
Later or before
(Who knows really)
They fell asleep on the toilet in the pub.

Down the lane
They spotted some dodgy electrical wiring
Luckily they were an engineer
And careful not to touch the wrong thing
Or risk
Being Blown
To Pieces.
If that had happened though
You can be sure
We would have fixed our self
With cable ties
So you really needn’t worry.

Behind them.
There is a cell belonging to an incarcerated Troll
He arrives through the pipes in liquid form
Eats onion rings and has a penchant for
Polish Warka Beer and miniature vodkas
Most likely stolen from mini bars in nearby hotels.

Close to the cell,
Just south of the security box,
They met two humans
With Origami birds.
One had it on their person
The other had left it at home
Which was a shame.
They spoke of a time when they’d made hundreds of origami birds.
Cranes we thought they were.

Walking up the road,
They chanced upon
A Crying Iron Giant
Masquerading as a large ventilation unit.
She was quite unable to reconcile
The fact that she
Was a vehicle for pollution.
It’s upsetting that kind of thing.
Inside her there are air conditioning dwellers
Who have been there for thousands of years.
You can see their crops.
But not them.
Some of them like to pretend they are God.
Some of them slide down the drainpipe at night
For fun.
And they all have teeny tiny suction cups for hands
So they can climb back up efficiently.

Just yonder, there was a strange Up-Downer
Who had been demoted and was now
Down Full Time.
Used as a marker for the home of Mother Eagle the Queen of Crochet.
And as it turns out
Close by, they discovered that the shoe that is missing
From the stripy leg
Is actually on the roof
Near the saucy window.
Except it isn’t.
Perhaps that had something to do
With the sneaky seagull who stole the badge.

A longish time ago,
A massive hidden Device
Watched them walk down a back alley to restaurant
The Device spoke from the shadows like a ghost in the darkness
This was both frightening and confusing
Like the time before when they had gone for a wee in a different alley
And a similar voice had boomed
Perhaps the Device was always watching and waiting
To do some fear mongering and controlling.

Also, when they laughed about weeing
They remembered watching drunk people urinate up walls
From the safety of a home ledge in the sky.
Using a laser on a tape measure they made the watery steams
And because the pissers couldn’t think straight due to intoxication
They became somewhat confused.
Which was amusing for obvious reasons.
This became known as Piss Fishing
And is a legendary game in the town centre of York.

They had a lovely time this day.
It was a good day.

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