Beatty Hallas

I stood at the front door and welcomed visitors to my friends’ open house.

Notes from the day:

Welcome Mat, 20 May 2012

I began slightly tentatively, hands clasped and standing on the doormat outside the front door. My feet began automatically to rock up onto the toes and back down flat, as I had seen policeman do. This was as much about keeping my feet warm as settling into a stance and rhythm of biding my time. As the day went on I became more confident in my position, more upbeat and alert to the dynamics of arrivals.

The weather was much colder than I thought it would be. A chilly wind gusted around me. I had to leave my post several times to get hot tea and jump up and down. I felt lacking in my preparations.

I realised as time went on that my role was to be poised, with the emphasis on waiting for someone to arrive. Someone to receive my greeting. I could see reflections in a car in front which gave indications that they were coming. I had to focus and be receptive.

I thought of the all the jobs I have had that have involved this ‘greeter’ element. The duality of being vulnerable in needing someone else to complete the exchange, and the upper hand of being the initiator of a new relationship.

On arrival visitors were often stopped in their tracks. I stood face-on at the top of five steps in an alcove-like porch. It was a surprise to be met like this on a domestic street. They smiled on being welcomed, a mood of warmth was established on going into the house. They replied with ‘thank you’ or even ‘you’ve been so kind already’. I turned sideways to let them enter the narrowed doorway and this prompted further interchanges as we brushed shoulders in close quarters.

If they asked if I had work in the house I said no, but passed them on to the homeowners. They were curious why I was there if I didn’t have work in the house. I let this remain a question in their minds without being confrontational.

The six hours passed quickly. The porch felt like a sentry box, with a limited view. Neighbours passed back and forth, kids on scooters and cars reversing up the street. As people left I was the final point of farewell.

My original proposal can be downloaded here

Here are my thoughts on compiling an A–Z of contemporary habitation, a project which is still open to contributors (2 x A3 pdf)

How do we live?

Copies of this article, hand coloured, were included in the exhibition Construct the Future, curated by Native at Hoxton Gallery, 8–10 April 2016

Exhibition details

Please contact me if you know of, or are in, an unusual place to live.

This project was launched at the This Is Not a Gateway Festival, 22-24 October 2010

thisisnotagateway.net

Good King Wenceslas peg doll kits.

Left at Arnolfini gallery, Bristol.

To coincide with the exhibition Craftivism.

A new piece for Whitstable Biennale 2008

Commissioned by Emma Leach for a weekend of performative works

21-22 June, Whitstable Beach

A stall on Whitstable beach with various games, toys and puzzles. Situated near several thoroughfares, passers-by borrowed games to play, asking for advice on suitability and rules. Cushions were also available to borrow.

A local made an application to designate Whitstable beach as a Village Green, hoping to safeguard it as a place for public use. The application was denied. One of the stipulations for common land is proof that the site has been used for recreation for at least twenty years.

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80 birdhouses made from kits by me, were given away for free at the Brockley summer fair in June 2007. Anyone who took a birdhouse was also given a leaflet in which I explained where best to site their birdbox and how to look after it.
When we arrived, we were instructed to pitch up our folding stall next to the Green Party and opposite Oxfam. I developed my banter as the afternoon progressed, overcoming visitors’ shyness and suspicion with advice about how to use the birdhouses. This moved into conversations about the birds they had seen around their homes; including details of their gardens, yards or balconies. All of the birdhouses were given out within two hours, with families crowding around and taking several at once. The event organisers assumed the Green Party owned the stall and announced by tannoy that birdboxes were being given away. An employee from the RSPB gave me hints on improving the boxes, whilst Green Party representatives discussed their local policies.

The fair was held in an area where I could not afford to live. The numbers of small birds in London have declined by up to 90%.

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For over a month I prepared a suitable place from which to conduct deckchair repairs, clearing out rubbish and making alterations to a shed in the sculpture yard at Wimbledon School of Art. Inside I set up a desk and chair, with radio and reference materials. Two rolls of replacement deckchair fabric (Mablethorpe and Bridlington) hung from the wall for visitors to choose from. Deckchairs that needed work were stacked inside, alongside wood treatments and tools.

I handed out leaflets to commuters at Wimbledon station advertising repairs and posted them through letter boxes in the area. A radius of two miles was mapped around the repair centre, from which I would do repairs for those who could not make it to the shed.

Around me, technicians, students and tutors continued with their work, stopping in for a cup of tea and the latest news of The Ashes (winning year). Every morning at 10am I arrived and opened up the deckchair repair. I rubbed down frames and teak oiled them, treating for woodworm, polishing fixings and replacing covers. Deckchairs were brought in for repair by members of the public, whilst sturdy chairs were set up in the yard for anyone who wanted to rest. My steady work set a familiarity and pace to proceedings. Visitors chatted and lounged, or peered into the repair workshop. At 5pm I closed up and went home.

1 August – 16 September 2005, MA show Wimbledon School of Art

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