Pols, an artist-run space in Ruzafa, Valencia, invited me to undertake a 6 week project with them, something I frequently doubted would happen at all. And against the odds I’m actually here, thanks to a small bursary from the gallery, lots of encouragement and a wedge of luck. The project will develop organically over the period as I meet different practicioners, historians, and biologists, and explore the unique food landscape shaped by public and private land in the region. I’ll organise a few public workshops and meals along the way, and there may be an exhibition to conclude.
Alongside my free journal, I’ll be posting more in-depth texts detailing my research behind my paywall, so I really urge you to chip in a few quids if you fancy following that along.
I’ll also give you access to one at random if you want to make a one-off donation to Ko-Fi or Paypal.
Thanks for reading regardless :)))
Thurs 19 Aug
woke up so early to a wall of hot air. packed my case back up and left it by the door. went the wrong way around the block twice before finding the cafe basically opposite david’s flat, had 2 cheesy croissants and a black coffee while planning my day. jumped on the metro to Playa Espanya and strode down the wide, red boulevard, beaming. climbed the stairs, sniffed the chlorine fountains and sat at the top of Montjuïc staring over the city while a man cheerily played obviously popular songs on his electrified guitar. it was quite a beautiful moment, so I gave all my change to the musician. paula asked me what I’d like to see, to which I replied “concrete and plants” so she sent me to Fundació Joan Miró, situated high up in the green hills in the south east. meandered down the northside through the stunning Jardins de Laribal heaving with hi-vis municipal landscapers and connected by shonky brick paths cutting chicanes into dirt held together by an historic tree root network.
jumped back on the metro at Drassanes, dashed to collect my bags from David’s and came straight back the other way. some half-running and frantic Spanglish ensured I made my 1500 train with a few mins to spare. read lots of Herland, napped loudly and eventally arrived to Estacio del Nord after a very pretty journey down the coast. Carles picked me up and immediately made me turn around to look at the intricate ornamentation of the station building: an incredible Art Nouveau landmark featuring relief panelling of green leaves and red roses, folk mosaic friezes, and a fresh-looking coat of pansy yellow paint. we walked to Ruzafa while talking about the bullfighting ban, West Ham United and the carrot dump show that I wrote an angry essay about. sat with a few icy cervezas in amongst the partially-constructed Fallas Festival, where residents literally set fire to huge polystyrene cartoon characters. of course, this was quite stressful to imagine, so rlly looking forward to experiencing it outside my apartment in a few weeks.
Friday 20 Aug
Woke up starfishing, did Yoga with Adrien on a sleeping mat that slid around so much I nearly kicked through the television. Unpacked all my clothes and made a wiggy breakfast from cupboard surprises: pasta nests, baked eggs in tomato and sweetcorn sauce. walked to central market to get some groceries that I could easily have bought a few mins from where I’m staying but carried around for the rest of the afternoon instead. Carles led me through Carmen –“the heart of the city”– and recounted a short architectural history of some of the more significant buildings: La Seu, local governmental headquarters, his favourite doorway (an intricate, hundreds-of-years-old stone-carving of thorny vines).
Saw more street art than necessary inside an old Nunnery, which also has one of the best shaded courtyards in the city. Luckily, CCCC also had a show about the Salvem Cabanyal neighbourhood resistance against gentrification, featuring original organisational ephemera, media reportage, collab artworks and films. The archival footage of police battering civilians felt particularly current, I felt like I was rewatching racket tactics employed at BLM protests: aggravating peaceful protestors and using disproportionate force, while politicians ensure a clear path for developers by hiding behind bureaucratic opacity.
Stomped home fully loaded with food as the sun slid up stone facades. Unpacked the groceries, made a pot of tea, ate a few walnuts dipped in honey and watched a few episodes of “15 Storeys High”. RIP Sean Lock
Sat 21 Aug
Another shitty sleep, so tonight I’ll stay on the sofa with air con on my face. My fragile, puffy british body can’t hack this, yet.
Morning was mostly spent lounging. Stovetop coffee and yoghurt with fruit and nuts. Pre-cooked some herby lentils and onions for dinner. Headed to Ruzafa market to check out the fare; immediately bought white vermut, goat’s cheese and handmade crackers, which I realised as I was paying for that I would have to carry around in the sun all day. Did a nice loopy-loop around the streets, lined w identically cute bars and cafes, and headed west to Parc Central, situated on the old train interchange. Train sheds are beig renovated into galleries and common spaces, while the gardens themselves have been designed with so many zones and layers, only an international architect could be responsible. I found lots of edibles, including palm dates, hard herbs, roses and sharon fruit, but there’s also a specific growing space (cucumbers, beans, tomatoes, corn, courgettes), and I wonder if it’s also an open resource?
It’s scorching so I find a shady bench, drink loads of water and tuck into Naomi Klein “This Changes Everything”, probably the largest book I’ve taken on. Basically I wander to different seats, dip my feet in the flat pools, sniff some unidentified flowers, and read some more of my book for the next few hours, then head home, grill some veg to go with my lentils, slice a juicy tomato and brush a honey balsamic glaze over it all. Meet with Paula for a short and sweet drink around the corner, come back to drink cold vermut w peaches and rose petals and listen to Goldie.
Sun 21 Aug
Yoga, piff breakfast, run around Parc Central, cold shower. Paula picks me up and we drive to Almàssera w Raoul and Victor for lunch at Bar Les Tendes. Squid in garlic, peppers with garlic, smooth oily potato and garlic. We walk 40min to Meliana, discussing the way land is split patchwork family farms with barraques (large farmhouses built by ancient Arab farmers), and the unique flooding-style irrigation system also designed by Syrians 1000 years ago. Many farmers grow “chufa” (yellow sedgenut) which is grass-like and has tiny rhizomatic tubers called tigernuts (not actually a nut). Thus the Alboraya zone is the origin of horchata / orxata.
We find a cafe for icy horchata and fartons and dip the former in the latter. After walking back to the car, sniffing flowers and fanning ourselves furiously, I get dropped off in the city, have a beer w Paula, then go to Carles’ flat and we make watermelon pickles and listen to MF DOOM. The full moon is wild and most definitely charged tonight!