Thinking back to my childhood, I must have been about 5 or 6 years old. I remember my dad stepping foot over the threshold of our humble mid terraced house on Infirmary street, in Blackburn. He’d be in his white overalls, sleeves neatly rolled up displaying his large arms that would engulf me as I ran to meet him. He would spin me around a few times to my mothers calls of “don’t bloody drop her”. I would breathe in the left over scent of yeast and hops that lingered in the fabric of his overalls, and if I close my eyes, even today I can still remember that smell, that warmth and that embrace.
My dad started working at Thwaites in 1976, the year after I was born, and it was through the help of the brewery that my parents were able to purchase their first house on Ivy street. I have no memories of this time, but I’m told we had a coal fire and rats! Dad would work shifts, and I remember I didn’t like him working 2-10 as I’d be in bed when he came home, I’d miss him terribly on those weeks. Night shifts were even worse, if my brother or I dared make too much noise and wake him as he was like an angry bear, and we’d be in for a ‘leathering’. Don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t unkind, he was a strict man, but a loving father too, and I have to admit, my brother saw his wrath much more than I did.
Growing up I was a daddy’s girl, Sunday night’s were the best. It was bath night, and after I’d been bathed and sorted by my mum, my dad would sit me on his knee and brush and plat my hair. We’d watch Morcambe and Wise on the television and he’d share his Pontefract liquorices with me. I was allowed to have an extra 10 minutes after bedtime, until I’d get told it was ‘up the wooden hills to the blanket show’.
In April 2019, demolition work began at the Thwaites brewery site on Starkie street in Blackburn. Production of ale had ended there the previous year, and moved to the new brewery site in Mellor. The building had remained an empty shell since falling victim to vandalism and travellers who had squatted there causing £300,000 of damage (sourced from Lancashire evening telegraph 2019). This prompted the company and Blackburn council to make the decision to demolish the tower and surrounding buildings, to create commercial dwellings for the town centre.
The tower was described as an iconic landmark and had been an important part of Blackburn’s skyline for many years. I always immediately think of the Christmas star that would be lit up at the top of Thwaites tower and could be seen throughout the town by all residents. The Christmas parties that my brother and I attended all throughout our childhood at the old Railway club, before they knocked it down to build the Wainwright bridge. Father Christmas would bring us all a present and the one that I still remember so vividly is a Tony Heart’s pottery set that I can still recall my mum rolling her eyes and groaning at as she saw the loose plaster of Paris inside. I even made my dad a pink ashtray from that set which took pride of place on the little table next to his armchair in the living room.
When I heard that the tower was to be demolished, like a lot of people, I was filled with an undeniable disappointment. I understand progress in this modern world. I’m from a more upto date generation who embraced the internet and mobile phone technology when it came. But this tower to me meant so much more. My dad worked there for around 16 years, and all of my childhood memories, and sulky pre teen angst resided in those bricks and mortar. I lost my dad to heart disease in 2006, he was 63, and I was a new mum, so looking forward to him being a grandad to my daughter.
It’s amazing, how memories settle into the corners of your mind, shrouded over by daily life, until something occurs. When I read about the impending demolition work those memories came swimming to the surface quite vividly and they were mirrored with a feeling of great sadness, loss, and a sensitivity of grief.
I started researching with my project fully established in my own mind. My art has always, from the beginning of the degree, centred around my own experiences and emotions. The subject of Thwaites, the demolition, the memories and the feelings that it had evoked, were all something I could embrace and turn into art. After the massive success of the British textile biennial earlier in the year which brought many national and international visitors to the town, I felt inspired yet again to put Blackburn on the map. This town is so rich in culture and history, an epicentre of industry and textiles, and of course the brewery that provided jobs for many hard working men from the late 60’s to present day.
The artist Jamie Holman, who I have had the privilege to be taught by at the art school created a series of work celebrating the history of radical gatherings in the old abandoned mills that used to house the rich cotton industries. The northern working class youth of the 90’s reclaiming the abandoned spaces as their own and the music that brought these empty spaces to life in an act of defiance and resistance. Holman’s work expanded to the history of the Pendle witches, incorporating poetry set to hypnotic trance, all brought together by large silk trade union banners, performance art and pioneer film making that enlightened me to all the great uncovered history of my own town.
(All above) Personal photographs taken from Jamie Holman’s exhibition ‘Transform and escape the dogs’ as part of the British textile biennial 2019.
With this inspiration freshly in mind, I began to make regular visits to the town centre to document the demolition process, and I would never have imagined what sadness it would bring, seeing it reduced to a pile of rubble.
This was definitely fuel to the art I seem to be drawn to, the art charged by my own emotional response to a situation. I follow a direct pattern, in which I process and reflect upon my own thoughts and bring them into my work as a self therapy, something I did sub consciously until the realisation dawned upon me during my second year. I began to have conversations with my mum about her memories and she suggested I contacted an old friend of my dad’s, Jeffrey Swift.
I remembered Jeff from my younger years, he had worked at Thwaites brewery up until he retired and moved to Bristol with his wife Beryl many years ago. But through the magic of social media, I was able to reconnect and we exchanged phone numbers. Jeff was very moved through our phone conversation and had many fond memories of my dad. It was a side of him I hadn’t seen as a child, or hadn’t noticed wrapped up in my own little bubble of youth. He spoke about the running of the brewery, and how it evolved with technology and the addition of computers over the years. My dad was a beer brewer and ended up as shop steward due to his outspoken nature and fierce protection over what he thought was right.
Jeff went on to describe my dad as a ‘gentle giant’, which echoed my own thoughts of him and brought me back to thinking about the structure of the tower. How indeed the tower stood over the town centre as a giant, it’s familiarity giving the people of the town that sense of belonging, as if it was part of all our histories, of all our memories. Thwaites tower, not just bricks and mortar, but a beacon of working class culture, consciousness and reflection.
** Please see the continuing journey of this project in Thwaites Brewery Tower, not just bricks and mortar? Part two: A concept**
Paula Jane Art, BAFA year 3 
Thanks for reading some of my poetry. I am primarily a graphic artist and a retired industrial designer and some of those efforts can be seen at https://siivola.org/jan/ . I can be reached at jiisand@gmail.com
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