… The River Aire, wending its way downstream towards Saltaire and Shipley. To the left (north), on the other side of those riverside trees, lies a grassy flood plain…

Here it is, viewed from the opposite direction (from the east), with the river now to the left. That figure in blue is walking along the riverside track. To the right (north) lies the Higher Coach Road estate, built up on banking just above the flood plain.

In the spring, the grasses of the flood plain become a riot of colourful buttercups. And as the wind catches it all, there can be a striking wave effect, as in this video clip.

But if the grasses are left uncut, as the summer wears on, the colour fades a bit, and it begins — to many residents’ eyes — to look distinctly less appealing…

For the last few summers, because of austerity cuts at Bradford Council, the grass here has been left unmown for longer and longer periods, even though the lawns in Roberts Park — immediately next door to the east — are kept immaculately manicured. Some residents on the estate have argued that, if this is going to keep happening, then the flood plain should at least be made over as a proper wildflower meadow (a mission discussed in this blog here). But that takes proper planning and planting — and resources. Meanwhile, other residents are opposed to the long grass altogether, either for aesthetic reasons, and/or because they’re concerned about dog-fouling etc.

In July 2015, in collaboration with Higher Coach Road’s emerging residents’ group, we staged a creative intervention in the long grass, as an attempt to spark public debate about the flood plain’s future treatment. To do this, we pounded a series of stakes into the ground, to mark out a large rectangular space…

… and persuaded the Council’s mowers to at least mow a swath around this rectangle, to help mark out the grasses within it as something ‘special’. Then, using a carefully devised schematic, we walked a meandering, mazy route into the grass within the rectangle.

At ground level, the path looked something like this…

With cross-roads and merging pathways looking something like this…

The man behind this madness is Baz Kershaw, artist and writer, who is based in the Southwest of England, and has devised ‘meadow meanders’ similar to this one in a variety of other contexts, under the moniker of “Earthrise Repair Shop”. Here is Baz, below, seated just inside the entrance to the maze. The doorway is marked out with Baz’s very own, specially selected branches…

Note how this particular patch of grass, where Baz is sitting, is quite short. This is not because it has been mown: the grass just hasn’t grown much in this spot because it was used recently for a bonfire (hence the purple ‘fireweed’). So… a good spot for an entrance ‘lobby’!

Here is Baz’s schematic for the maze, adjusted for its Saltaire incarnation…

The grid lines here relate to the stakes marking out the edges of the grassy rectangle. And the meander path, though it looks mysterious (and feels it, when you walk it!), is actually a very precise rendition of the system of global ocean currents identified by scientists — a system which is thought to be at risk from climate change. So… for one weekend only, the Higher Coach Road flood plain became a map of the whole world, and those waves in the grass became the waves of the oceans…

Notice, too, how the names of animals appear at points along the meander path in Baz’s diagram. That’s because, at various points along this snaking path, half-hidden amidst the grasses, walkers come across glass jars on plinths, like this…

The jars are filled with a variety of pulses, beans and seeds, each representing a different animal species. Most of the jars make clear that their contents are numerically linked to actual population statistics, as in the case of these black-eyed beans…

In collaboration with Birmingham-based theatre company Stan’s Cafe, who have done this sort of thing before (with grains of rice), Baz has devised a scheme to have one bean stand in for each giant panda left on the planet. There are alarmingly few of them, and yet pandas are not viewed as “endangered” any more. (Pity the species that are…)

Here is the meadow meander in action, with residents from Higher Coach Road… It all prompted quite a bit of discussion…

Residents had been invited along to a community barbecue, which we set up in the small mown space right next to the meander area, early on Saturday afternoon. It’s here that we made a point of asking people their views on the question of “to mow or not to mow”. We wanted the meander itself to just be whatever people made of it…

Meanderers continued to wander the space for most of the afternoon…

And as well as the jars of statistical creatures, we were visited by quite a few real ones.

On the following day, Sunday, we put the jars back in place again but moved the entrance-way so that it opened out onto the riverside path, rather than facing the houses on the estate. Here, we attracted a different audience of riverside passers-by on their way between Roberts Park and Bradford Rowing Club. Again, the conversations and observations inspired by the installation were rich and often unexpected. There are further images and blog commentary here.

On the Sunday evening, we took down the posts, ropes, plinths and jars, and left the meadow to its own devices. But in the days that followed, children began to play their own games in the grassy maze. The event also inspired adult residents to think further about the flood plain as something they could use for their own community purposes. A first step was Stewart Gledhill‘s repurposing of the wooden stakes, as described in this blog post.

A special thankyou to Baz Kershaw, for bringing his remarkable Meadow Meander to Shipley. And thanks, too, to Stewart and Pat Gledhill, of Troutbeck Avenue, for their stalwart support in helping to set this up, and giving us a home base to work from.

The photos on this page are mostly by Maggie Roe (to whom, further thanks) though Baz and Steve took a few too.