CHIANA HURST

We invited artist and educator Cathy Wade to create an opportunity for a local emerging artist, student or graduate to work within an artist development context:

Cathy’s artistic work investigates how practice can be created and distributed in collaborative partnerships and through the creation of commons. Cathy is the course leader for MA in Arts Education Practices at Birmingham City University, alongside facilitating Vivid Projects’ focus on long-term artist development. The ‘call out’ Cathy created in response to this was to invite someone to observe and gather the landscapes and playful characteristics of Wrexham Rural. Chiana Hurst applied for the role and has close connections to Chirk which became her focus for this work. Chiana is an illustrator and poet, based in and around Wrexham. Her work depicts bright dream-like worlds, presenting unusual, sometimes grim perspectives elevated through colour and fantasy. This can be seen in her detailed coloured pencil work and narrative-rich poetry.

We’d like to share below what unfolded for both Cathy and Chiana working together:

My journeys to Wrexham Rural from Birmingham planned for late summer often took unexpected turns: flooding, stoppages, missed connections that left me wondering how to connect to a place that more often than not I could not arrive at. The answer came in the form of conversation with artist Chiana Hurst. What we first felt was a detective mission to delve into the unseen heritage present around sites of local knowledge, swiftly shifted into her exploration of site accompanied by my own observations. In this we found many commonalities in experience in the spaces and places we grew up in and how our families enabled us to understand what was held within them. Chiana’s writing Peace in Chirk Tunnel shares the deep value of passing on local knowledge. Her journey with her father reminds me of those I took in Sutton and Ashfield with my Grandjohn and his dog, Becket. If I was lucky enough he would start drawing what we had seen together. I knew as a child and teenager how valuable this time was and how it presented something rare and unique. I want to thank Chiana for sharing her experiences with us. Cathy Wade, November 2024.

PEACE IN CHIRK TUNNEL

By Chiana Hurst

I find peace in wild woods. It is an escape from the manufactured environments that are our usual habitat. I grew up in Caergwrle, a small Welsh village with a river, a tiny mountain and the ruins of a castle built in 1277. I know every nook and alley of my village because it is my home: that mountain was my playground, those woods are my garden. From a Google search, these Welsh towns and villages can seem to have little going on, but if you take the time to walk off the path, you will find these historic places hold sanctuaries and secrets beyond imagining. Local knowledge is precious and guarded, but if you are interested and honest, you will find someone excited to teach you the significance of every stone.

I’ve been to Chirk before, but I wouldn’t say I know the place well. My Grandma is from Chirk and went to the Llangollen grammar school. Her parents worked, lived and retired in this community. When my Dad was a child he would spend part of his summer holidays with them, so I asked him to come with me, and show me around. After getting off the train, he took me to the Chirk Tunnel.

The Chirk Tunnel rumbled as we approached. Which is good. This means we won’t be plunged into total darkness, but logic doesn’t prevent me from perceiving that grumble in the ground and believing this a foreboding sign, like this tunnel is alive. Maybe you’d find this feeling exciting, inviting even. I know I was enticed by the tunnel. All this sound means is that a narrowboat is sailing through, with its bright white light to comfort you. That sound like a growl is an engine, an arguably recent invention. This system is old enough to be built with a towpath; during the rise of industry, canal systems expected narrowboats to have horses carrying this weight. A story I heard about the tunnel is horses didn’t tread this part of the path, they walked above, while the people on board placed their hands on the arched roof and walked their narrowboats a quarter mile, through this darkness.

My Dad in front of me, the canal to my right, the narrowboat ahead is my only light. My steps are cautious as I enter the tunnel. It’s surprising how much comfort a little light brings, despite it not revealing the floor at my feet. The light just helps me perceive the tunnel structure, the length and height. Not clearly, but you get a sense of what you are walking into. The Chirk Tunnel is 421 metres long, and while you walk through this darkness, you feel every step. Time slows down.

My instincts press my body into the left wall, repelled by the idea of slipping off the edge, though there is a handrail, and if I just walk straight I know I am safe, but I can’t help these instincts. I want to run my palm along the wall, applying pressure to stay steady, but it’s grim, as my hand quickly picks up all that damp grime that has accumulated on this old sunlightless stone. So I try to be sensible, reason with myself to walk, proceed confidently forward, relaxing my shoulders, letting my fingertips loosely trail the handrail by my side. This kind of darkness makes every step feel unnatural. I never walk without vision of my feet and I’m doing that on a damp stone path. But I become comfortable with this and as I reason forward, I feel brave.

That little light grows steadily closer, as I feel overwhelmingly calm. The narrowboat passes. Allowing the darkness to embrace us, and I realise that my fear of the dark isn’t necessary. This quiet cold tunnel is peaceful to me.