Cheshire-born self confessed voyeur. His works are held in Manchester,
Bolton, Leicester, Sheffield, the Victoria & Albert Museum and the Arts
Council.
The
destruction of outdated terraced housing, known as slums, has often been carried
out heartlessly. People who have lived their whole life in one neighbourhood
may not want to leave, and a community spirit may not be recreated in the modern
developments they are moved into.
By asking people what they want and making them feel included, new housing
developments can meet the needs of both society and communities.
A broken old man won't come out of a broken old house.
Why won't that broken old man come out of that broken old house?
People who used to live round here say : 'he's lived there forty years or more,
his wife died two or three years ago, the children they left a long time ago,
didn't they emigrate? didn't they move far away?
A broken old man won't come out of a broken old house. Why won't that broken
old man come out of that broken old house?
This neighbourhood was a nice enough place once upon a time but that time is
long past, some people ask : "why was this place ever allowed to sink so
low?" most people say: "the place is a total disgrace, it needs tearing
down so the council and the developers can start again - " that's democracy
that is. And the council will re-house him, somewhere better, somewhere nice,
and they'll consult with him about where he is to go, involve him properly in
the decision making process - that's inclusion that is.
But that broken old man won't come out of that broken old house. Why won't that
broken old man come out of that broken old house?
The problem is the broken old man doesn't understand himself as a broken old
man, he understands himself as him: as a boy, young man, lover, husband - husband
: never for richer, mainly for poorer, mostly for better, but enough times for
worse, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live… And as
an engineer, he can turn his hand to anything, he makes things work, and as
a father, he's not so bad, and as the best darts player for miles around no
matter what Pete Bradshaw says, and as a dreamer whose dreams come to life every
Saturday night, when he dances till the wee small hours with his wife, and they
love to sleep in late on Sundays.
And he could play the clarinet so sweetly. And he doesn't understand that he
won't come out of a broken old house, he understands that he's at home, he hears
his children's laughter, sees them running around everywhere slamming doors,
why do they always have to slam the door?
He sees Robert learning to take his first steps in the front room : "Go
On My Son!" He sees Helen standing so vulnerable and helpless in the kitchen,
that terrible look on her face the night her heart was first-time broken. And
in bed, he feels Annie lying in his arms, her breathing sweeter than anything
he could ever play on the clarinet.
By Heaven, he feels Annie everywhere in this their home for forty years…
It's so hard to let go, the fear so mean, tells him this : "leave here
and you lose everything you are and everything you ever knew."
A broken old man won't come out of a broken old house. Why won't that broken
old man come out of that broken old house?
)
