Laura Pannack: Island Symmetries
Laura Pannack’s photo series ‘Island Symmetries’ captures nostalgic imagery that focuses on the friendships formed in a small community on wasteland called ‘The Cracker’ that stands between two estates – ‘Tibby’ and 'The lost city’.
Artist statement
A vast wasteland stands between the two estates. ‘Tibby’ ; it’s cul de sac of residential houses that curls around a small playground. Kids push prams or zip past on bikes, with their hands above their heads.
Through a narrow alleyway you enter the Cracker; rolling grass lined with blackberries and stinging nettles. Motorbikes, peds and quads bark loudly everyday and at all times. The boys race them until they burn out, perfecting the art of the wheelie. Horses are usually kept in the back gardens or local stables and are just as popular.
The girls nestle around small fires despite the baking summer sun. On my second trip I discovered an entirely black Cracker, sporting the occasional patch of grass that had escaped a burning.
On the adjacent side lies ‘The Lost City Estate’. Most of the boys meet at Jack Barrett’s bars (a metal fence that lies to the opening of the field). They perch and exchange stories, cigarettes and zoots alight referring to each other affectionately as ‘Mush’.
I‘m drawn to this area for its insular community. Everyone knows each other and the name ‘The Lost City’ derives from an obvious observation. These people feel forgotten. With no entertainment, a limited youth service and a lack of role models these young people do feel lost. The police battle against them. I want to explore the friendships, the unique language and tradition of the area and the characters that for me; should not be lost or ignored.
His handlebars swung from side to side as he came into view over the dry grass of topside with speed. His head bowed, the white peak of his hat like a swan underwater. As he approached he stood up, leaning back with pride and I noticed the pregnant bulge of his jacket.
“Wanna see sumthin miss?”
“Sure”
“This is pure grade shit”
Like a true salesman he unzipped his jacket spilling out a bag full of homegrown. The smell hit me before I even saw it. A crowd gathered and I saw some of the younger boys from the corner of my eye edge away nervously.
I liked Dwight; despite his cheeky rascal vibe he had a kind and warm soul.
He took me in as a stranger and supported my endeavour. In the tiny window I met him I felt a relaxed kinship; he was fun and intrigued me. A young man so part of the land that I couldn’t place him elsewhere.
As he breathed in the scent of a stem below his nostrils he sighed with a goofy smile.