Sanctuary By Artichoke
Building A Community Memorial

Helping Build David Best’s Sanctuary In Bedworth

I had been to hear David Best speak at Coventry Cathedral, and there was something very exciting about then finding myself helping to build one of his creations. Here was the artist I associated with the extraordinary temples at Burning Man, working in Bedworth, and I had the opportunity to join in. His crew included volunteers from around the world who travelled with him to help make his work. It was amazing to work alongside people who had that shared experience, and to be welcomed into the making myself.

I was kitted out with suitable protective equipment, given an induction and soon began working. My first task was to sort the wooden pattern pieces ready for the next stage of the build. The crew then taught me how to use a nail gun, and I was allowed to attach the pieces. My contribution was a small part of a much larger undertaking, but I was doing real work on the structure, learning from the people around me and helping those separate pieces become part of the finished artwork.

Connections Through Artichoke & Imagineer

My relationship with Artichoke had begun through PROCESSIONS in 2018, when I helped make the Women of Shropshire banner with DASH and the Shropshire Subversive Stitchers under Anne Marie Lagram’s artistic direction. I later became an Artichoke Heart, supporting an organisation whose work meant a great deal to me. Sanctuary was another opportunity to be involved, this time working with wood rather than cloth, and I also attended its launch as an Artichoke Heart.

Sanctuary also connected with my earlier work with Imagineer, when I helped build Coventry’s Brightest Moon for the Daimler Powerhouse launch. These projects sit in different places in my archive, but the relationships between them are part of how my practice has grown, through people and organisations I have continued to work with and return to.

Looking back, I also realise that Sanctuary was the first time I had worked in a place connected with mining. We were building in Miners’ Welfare Park in Bedworth, but at the time I did not recognise how central mining would become to my practice. That connection has only become clear to me through the work that followed, giving this place another significance when I look back at my time there.

A Place For Memories

Although Sanctuary’s invitation was particularly connected with Covid and the losses of the pandemic, people brought many different things to it. There were memories, names and messages written into the structure, and people used it as a shrine to address things in their own lives. So many people came. Among all that intricate woodwork were individual contributions, each belonging to someone with their own reasons for being there.

The small wooden block in my photographs was one I wrote myself: ‘I release the old me’ and ‘embrace the new’. The mention of Gary was personal too. He was someone I had done projects with through Coventry Men’s Shed who had died. I was taking part in the making of a public artwork, but I also had my own memories to bring to it, alongside those being left by other people.

Watching Sanctuary Burn

I went with my artist friend Luisa to watch the burn. It was strange to see something so beautiful and intricate go up in flames, particularly after being involved in making it. I had sorted some of those pieces and learned how to attach them, and now I was watching the structure disappear. That was the whole point of Sanctuary, but knowing it would burn and standing there watching it happen were different experiences.

There had been comments from people in the community that it was too beautiful to burn. I could understand that response. So much work had gone into it, and then people had added their memories and messages to the wood. At the final gathering on 28 May, Luisa and I watched with the crowd as the flames rose through the structure.

The Blueprint On My Studio Wall

At the end of my involvement I was given a blueprint of the build, which I still have hanging on the wall of my studio. It is a very particular reminder of Sanctuary: the pattern pieces I sorted, the crew who taught me to use the nail gun and the excitement of being trusted to help make something on that scale. The wooden memorial was always intended to be temporary, but the drawing has become part of my everyday surroundings, carrying that experience into the place where I continue to make.