Green Lines

Further Info

This story was made on a five-day digital storytelling workshop for members of Watershed staff and local artists, led by Ruth Jacobs, Liz Milner and Beth Trimmer,

The course took place at Watershed during May 2005 and was supported by Bristol’s Museums, Galleries & Archives.

Transcript

In 1995, when I lived in Cyprus, I visited Nicosia, a city where Greece is separated from Turkey. Here I walked across the infamous “Green Line”. This buffer zone was created after the partition of the island and it was a strange place, with bullet holes on the sides of empty buildings, abandoned buildings, and barbed wire.

Here another war had begun, as nature attempted to re-invade the space.

A few years later, I crossed another border: the one between Wales and England and came to live here in Bristol. The reason I moved was to study at university, and in this new land of learning, I explored more manufactured borders; the ones between art and science, facts and philosophies.

Like many others, I stayed here, still exploring as I go, I’m finding out more about the city over the years. I really like the way there are clues about the history of Bristol people, places and products all around me.

Now, often, I’m on a hillside overlooking the city. I’m walking in a place where grey meets green, past meets present. No war, but there is sometimes the sound of gunfire from somewhere in the trees. No Green Line, but there are rusty cars, broken bikes, barbed wire and abandoned shopping trolleys. So many things we no longer want have begun to invade the woods, fields and paths. Once again, I find myself in a fractured and forgotten place.

Credits

All media not otherwise credited created by the story author, or permission obtained, used under copyright licence.