This Sundered Land

This Sundered Land is my response to seeing the hanging of St George’s Cross flags in public places in England, a practice presented as patriotic, but controversial for association with anti-immigration nationalism.

it started as an exploration of the complexity of place and identity. There was irony in the adopted symbol of Englishness ,St George, also being a historical figure, George of Lydda, born in Anatolia of Palestinian and Syrian parents, who was persecuted for his faith.

I tried to reflect that ambiguity of identity and place in the making of This Sundered Land. Rather than a mass-produced, oil-based product transported half way around the world to make a statement about national identity, this is a fragile, handwoven paper flag. It has been crafted in Sunderland, a place that takes its name from the Old English for ‘separate land’ or ‘land set apart’, yet has always been globally connected through its history of making. The flag is made from vintage esparto paper, the type of paper that used to be manufactured locally with esparto grass imported from Africa. It is coloured using a traditional ink, handmade like that of the medieval monks of Wearmouth, and blended with madder root, a pigment grown across Southern Europe, the Middle East, Central Asia and North Africa.

In the slow process of making, what began as an observational piece on place and identity became a much more meaningful meditation on our common humanity. I invited participants of an inclusive, multi-cultural community event to contribute their responses to the questions: what brings us together as a community, what makes us feel we belong? Their responses, which include ideas of home, family and community, could well have come from any social grouping and speak to what we share. The divided quarters of the flag are bridged with their words.