Light Reading by Julia Bickerstaff. Image Julia Bickerstaff

Domestic space has been very much on my mind of late, my own home has become a millstone around my neck insofar as it needs tending to and quite frankly I have neither time nor inclination. Sometimes I am a little overwhelmed by modern approaches to home decoration; where everything has a perfect place but not so much of a story. At present my home is whispering its story of my failure to reach the domestic goal of perfection that still unfortunately prevails amongst the media.

After leaving the Book Fair, with as usual, only a few precious moments available, I head down to 153 Woodhouse Lane to an exhibition titled Home from Home. I tentatively push the door open and step inside.

Quite clearly 153 is not, at present a home, I suspect it is a place for lectures, or discussion or something of that nature. Here we have utilitarian chipboard and white paint, cord carpets and panel less doors, yet the careful placing of art objects creates in me a feeling of home. Not necessarily the cosy comfortable, cup of tea in hand feeling we so often associate with the word home; within these walls are whispers of real occupants – some with less tranquil tales of what home can mean.  My daughter and I begin to imagine the occupants who would depart in such a hurry and leave behind such artefacts:  A locked book, Ouija board, locks of black hair curled in cups, receipts and tickets pinned to a wall, an impossible dress to wear, a cardboard dresser, a camouflage bedspread and thousands of objects beside. Where are they now we ask? And what are they trying to tell us?

In the words of my daughter it becomes a magical house, for me it is a house of ghostly spirits captured in objects that carry the imprint of what it means to be human. I imagine a household of jostling personalities, a few tense moments, heated debates and perhaps some emotional outbursts, but all in all there is a calm overseeing hand; a parental figure who lets the family know when enough is enough. This is a family of huge proportions as some 80 artists are involved and an exhibition I am eager to return to.  I am sad that I am unable to put aside motherly duties during its short stay, as I would love to linger through this house alone.

I left 153 with a greater sense that there is an alternative view to the immaculate, equity attracting homestead of the media.  In a house each room can tell a story not of perfection but of real human endeavour, and of a basic human urge to create and not be forgotten.  In my mind this is not an exhibition of complex concepts but of humanity and perhaps common place beauties that in this frantic age we so easily step over and ignore.  I feel a sense of relief in this house, I am OK with the fact I don’t understand the titles or some of the media, I can just soak up and soak into my environment, I am unabashedly unaware of the meanings behind all of these collections and this feels strangely rejuvenating.

Home from Home at 153 Woodhouse Lane.

Open Monday 14th  to Friday 18th March, from 11-5pm and Late night 6-8pm Thursday the 17th March.