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| Stokies strike back: the Potteries people scotching their 'Brexit capital' rep | Stokies strike back: the Potteries people scotching their 'Brexit capital' rep |
| (about 13 hours later) | |
| They say there’s one way you can always tell a Stokie: wherever they are in the world, whenever they sit down to eat the first thing they do is turn over their plate to see where it was made. It’s a story that captures both the pride and identity that people from Stoke-on-Trent have in their home town – and its history as a city that became world-famous for its ceramics. But in recent years, the story of Stoke-on-Trent has been told rather differently. | They say there’s one way you can always tell a Stokie: wherever they are in the world, whenever they sit down to eat the first thing they do is turn over their plate to see where it was made. It’s a story that captures both the pride and identity that people from Stoke-on-Trent have in their home town – and its history as a city that became world-famous for its ceramics. But in recent years, the story of Stoke-on-Trent has been told rather differently. |
| It was former Ukip leader Paul Nuttall who first called it “the Brexit capital of Britain”. Nuttall was standing in what was billed as “the Brexit By-election” of Stoke Central in February last year. While much of what he said in that campaign was ridiculed or disproven, the Brexit Capital label seemed to stick. It was repeated in headlines everywhere from the Daily Express to the Financial Times, from the Sun to Politico. | It was former Ukip leader Paul Nuttall who first called it “the Brexit capital of Britain”. Nuttall was standing in what was billed as “the Brexit By-election” of Stoke Central in February last year. While much of what he said in that campaign was ridiculed or disproven, the Brexit Capital label seemed to stick. It was repeated in headlines everywhere from the Daily Express to the Financial Times, from the Sun to Politico. |
| To many locals, it felt like a more extreme version of a story that had been written about such places for months: “left-behind”, stuck in post-industrial decline and apathy. When the Guardian made a video report from Stoke about this apathy, the position was perfectly summed up by a young man who leaned out of a council block window and shouted: “They don’t give a shit about us, I’m not voting for any of them.” | To many locals, it felt like a more extreme version of a story that had been written about such places for months: “left-behind”, stuck in post-industrial decline and apathy. When the Guardian made a video report from Stoke about this apathy, the position was perfectly summed up by a young man who leaned out of a council block window and shouted: “They don’t give a shit about us, I’m not voting for any of them.” |
| That film was made by me and it captured one side of Stoke, a side many people seemed happy to see, because the film went down well. But I noticed a few comments from locals who were less complimentary. One was from Danny Flynn, head of the YMCA there. “I felt like a goldfish in a bowl and felt quite patronised by it all,” he said, adding that I should “sharpen my bloody pencil” and come back. | That film was made by me and it captured one side of Stoke, a side many people seemed happy to see, because the film went down well. But I noticed a few comments from locals who were less complimentary. One was from Danny Flynn, head of the YMCA there. “I felt like a goldfish in a bowl and felt quite patronised by it all,” he said, adding that I should “sharpen my bloody pencil” and come back. |
| Flynn is one of countless Stokies whose energy, pride and defiantly positive take on his city is leading a transformation in the story of Stoke. But, he says, this change is something that will have to come from within: “Rather than waiting for the government white charger to come over the horizon and sort us out, we’ve got to do for ourselves.” | Flynn is one of countless Stokies whose energy, pride and defiantly positive take on his city is leading a transformation in the story of Stoke. But, he says, this change is something that will have to come from within: “Rather than waiting for the government white charger to come over the horizon and sort us out, we’ve got to do for ourselves.” |
| For me, this was the start of a journey that would take me deep into Stoke’s culture, its streets and its people, but also deep into the question of how we perceive places and tell their stories. I sharpened my bloody pencil and returned to Stoke, determined to clear my mind of preconceived ideas, film as many local people as possible, and be led by what they thought was important. | For me, this was the start of a journey that would take me deep into Stoke’s culture, its streets and its people, but also deep into the question of how we perceive places and tell their stories. I sharpened my bloody pencil and returned to Stoke, determined to clear my mind of preconceived ideas, film as many local people as possible, and be led by what they thought was important. |
| This is not as simple as it sounds. Stoke-on-Trent is made up of six towns, each with their own identities, scenes and gripes. Countless stories and views abound, on everything from Brexit to how to make the perfect oatcake. There were times when I was traipsing the streets with a camera over my shoulder wondering what on Earth I was doing. | This is not as simple as it sounds. Stoke-on-Trent is made up of six towns, each with their own identities, scenes and gripes. Countless stories and views abound, on everything from Brexit to how to make the perfect oatcake. There were times when I was traipsing the streets with a camera over my shoulder wondering what on Earth I was doing. |
| I filmed a voxpop with Keasha, a single mum, who talked about children’s centre closures. She was getting confused at my erratic line of questioning, so I felt I should tell her that I didn’t really know what I was making a film about. Our encounter ended with me assuring her that I really was a Guardian journalist, and her politely declining to take any further part. | I filmed a voxpop with Keasha, a single mum, who talked about children’s centre closures. She was getting confused at my erratic line of questioning, so I felt I should tell her that I didn’t really know what I was making a film about. Our encounter ended with me assuring her that I really was a Guardian journalist, and her politely declining to take any further part. |
| A good place to begin to clarify things was Burslem, known as the Mother Town for its key role in founding the potteries. On the high street is a grand and reportedly haunted 18th-century pub called The Leopard. Inside, a familiar scene plays out, with two men telling me over their pints about how the town had declined once the jobs dried up. Indeed, the town was recently named as the place in Britain with the most boarded-up shops. “People have to stop moaning,” one man says wistfully, “pull their trousers up and get on with it.” | A good place to begin to clarify things was Burslem, known as the Mother Town for its key role in founding the potteries. On the high street is a grand and reportedly haunted 18th-century pub called The Leopard. Inside, a familiar scene plays out, with two men telling me over their pints about how the town had declined once the jobs dried up. Indeed, the town was recently named as the place in Britain with the most boarded-up shops. “People have to stop moaning,” one man says wistfully, “pull their trousers up and get on with it.” |
| On the other side of the bar, three women are doing exactly that. They are planning the next Burslem festival, one of several events their community group, Our Burslem, runs throughout the year to bring the town alive. June Cartwright is the group’s driving force: often just called Mother, she is a 73-year-old community champion and heavy metal fan. Outside, she shows me a mural to Motörhead frontman Lemmy, who was from Burslem. When I ask her why metal is so big in this area, she says Stoke people are “very truthful and forthright … straight talking”. As with Danny Flynn, there is a hint of good-humoured menace when she tells me about her pride in Burslem: “I hate anyone that talks it down.” | On the other side of the bar, three women are doing exactly that. They are planning the next Burslem festival, one of several events their community group, Our Burslem, runs throughout the year to bring the town alive. June Cartwright is the group’s driving force: often just called Mother, she is a 73-year-old community champion and heavy metal fan. Outside, she shows me a mural to Motörhead frontman Lemmy, who was from Burslem. When I ask her why metal is so big in this area, she says Stoke people are “very truthful and forthright … straight talking”. As with Danny Flynn, there is a hint of good-humoured menace when she tells me about her pride in Burslem: “I hate anyone that talks it down.” |
| People had begun to tell me that they hoped I was doing “nice, positive stories for a change”. This was not always easy. Anna Francis is an artist who bought a £1 home from the council in one of the hardest-bitten parts of Stoke, the Portland Street estate. She took me to see her project to reopen a boarded-up pub as a community centre. As she was proudly showing me around, a commotion was heard across the road: a house had been burgled, and the residents were loudly sounding off about how bad the area was: “Benefits Street’s got nothing on this,” said one. | People had begun to tell me that they hoped I was doing “nice, positive stories for a change”. This was not always easy. Anna Francis is an artist who bought a £1 home from the council in one of the hardest-bitten parts of Stoke, the Portland Street estate. She took me to see her project to reopen a boarded-up pub as a community centre. As she was proudly showing me around, a commotion was heard across the road: a house had been burgled, and the residents were loudly sounding off about how bad the area was: “Benefits Street’s got nothing on this,” said one. |
| I heard Anna say to a friend, when she thought I was out of earshot, what a shame it was that I saw that, when this was supposed to be a positive piece. But I explained it only went to make her work seem all the more important and heroic. To show people doing positive things, and fighting back, I had to show what they were fighting against. | I heard Anna say to a friend, when she thought I was out of earshot, what a shame it was that I saw that, when this was supposed to be a positive piece. But I explained it only went to make her work seem all the more important and heroic. To show people doing positive things, and fighting back, I had to show what they were fighting against. |
| And there are challenges everywhere in Stoke, none of them unique to the city: the continuing spectre of austerity, low wages, addiction, a lot of empty buildings. But Anna and many of the people I filmed shared a particular world view: that you can look at the same thing and see it in two completely different ways. “I don’t see a flat piece of land with rubble, an empty old building,” said Rob Fenton, who belongs to a group of DIY artists and entrepreneurs who are creating a new independent quarter in Hanley. “Instead I think, ‘What could go there?’” | And there are challenges everywhere in Stoke, none of them unique to the city: the continuing spectre of austerity, low wages, addiction, a lot of empty buildings. But Anna and many of the people I filmed shared a particular world view: that you can look at the same thing and see it in two completely different ways. “I don’t see a flat piece of land with rubble, an empty old building,” said Rob Fenton, who belongs to a group of DIY artists and entrepreneurs who are creating a new independent quarter in Hanley. “Instead I think, ‘What could go there?’” |
| Rob, Anna and many others were inspired by – and pinning their hopes on – the big push by Stoke City Council last year to be the next UK city of culture, in 2021. They launched their bid by sending a duck (a friendly term of address in Stoke) into space. The bid was an attempt to transform perceptions of the city from the inside and the outside. “We changed the world from this city,” said deputy leader of the council Abi Brown. “What we’re doing here is saying to people, ‘Don’t you remember?’” | Rob, Anna and many others were inspired by – and pinning their hopes on – the big push by Stoke City Council last year to be the next UK city of culture, in 2021. They launched their bid by sending a duck (a friendly term of address in Stoke) into space. The bid was an attempt to transform perceptions of the city from the inside and the outside. “We changed the world from this city,” said deputy leader of the council Abi Brown. “What we’re doing here is saying to people, ‘Don’t you remember?’” |
| Although the bid had its sceptics, even making the shortlist was something that massively boosted the confidence of people I spoke to. And it brought together many of the people doing things for their communities on their own. One defiant Stokie said to me: “We all know each other now, and there’s no going back.” | Although the bid had its sceptics, even making the shortlist was something that massively boosted the confidence of people I spoke to. And it brought together many of the people doing things for their communities on their own. One defiant Stokie said to me: “We all know each other now, and there’s no going back.” |
| Several people who have watched this new series, called Made in Stoke-on-Trent, asked me what happened to the duck. I believe it came down to earth several hours drive upwind from Stoke later that evening. But, metaphorically, I like to think it is still soaring. “I thought winning the city of culture would be the catalyst to accelerate Stoke into a new future,” said Danny Flynn, the snowy day after Coventry beat the town to the title last month. “But maybe the catalyst is us.” | Several people who have watched this new series, called Made in Stoke-on-Trent, asked me what happened to the duck. I believe it came down to earth several hours drive upwind from Stoke later that evening. But, metaphorically, I like to think it is still soaring. “I thought winning the city of culture would be the catalyst to accelerate Stoke into a new future,” said Danny Flynn, the snowy day after Coventry beat the town to the title last month. “But maybe the catalyst is us.” |
| ‘Suddenly this isn’t a forgotten area’ | ‘Suddenly this isn’t a forgotten area’ |
| Anna Francis was eight months pregnant when she moved into a derelict home in one of Stoke’s roughest estates. She bought it for one pound: the council had just launched the scheme in an attempt to bring young families into the community. | Anna Francis was eight months pregnant when she moved into a derelict home in one of Stoke’s roughest estates. She bought it for one pound: the council had just launched the scheme in an attempt to bring young families into the community. |
| Life wasn’t easy at first. She was met with suspicion from some of the existing residents who had seen their neighbours moved out. Her efforts to maintain a flowerbed on her street were met with “Not here, duck” and vandalised week after week. | Life wasn’t easy at first. She was met with suspicion from some of the existing residents who had seen their neighbours moved out. Her efforts to maintain a flowerbed on her street were met with “Not here, duck” and vandalised week after week. |
| Anna persevered. As well as doing up her own home, she launched a project to reopen a derelict pub in the heart of the estate as a community centre. The process has been painfully slow, so Anna – an artist whose work focuses on the built environment, clay and community – began running clay workshops on a green that was usually populated by the area’s addicts. | Anna persevered. As well as doing up her own home, she launched a project to reopen a derelict pub in the heart of the estate as a community centre. The process has been painfully slow, so Anna – an artist whose work focuses on the built environment, clay and community – began running clay workshops on a green that was usually populated by the area’s addicts. |
| “We change the rhythm of what’s going on,” she says. “Suddenly it isn’t a forgotten area of the city – it’s a space where the community can come together.” | “We change the rhythm of what’s going on,” she says. “Suddenly it isn’t a forgotten area of the city – it’s a space where the community can come together.” |
| Not only does clay tap into Stoke’s pottery heritage, for local young people it contrasts with the slow pace of change in the area: “If you’re working with clay,” says Anna, “the transformation is immediate.” | Not only does clay tap into Stoke’s pottery heritage, for local young people it contrasts with the slow pace of change in the area: “If you’re working with clay,” says Anna, “the transformation is immediate.” |
| Made in Stoke-on-Trent, an eight-part documentary series, is on the Guardian Cities website. |