17/04/26 - Common Ground

7 – 14^th February – 25^th March 2026

Research Exchange: Common Ground

In November, while scrolling through my Instagram feed, I came across an advert posted by the Auxiliary Gallery Project Space in Middlesbrough. The graphic, simple and green in tone, promoted a weekly project titled Common Ground. Something about it immediately caught my attention. Perhaps it was the language of growing and making, or perhaps it was the idea of a shared space centred around land and cultivation. Whatever the reason, I found myself curious about the project and whether it might connect with the research I have been developing through my PhD.

This year I have been consciously trying to share my research more openly beyond academic contexts, allowing it to move into public and community spaces where conversation and experimentation can unfold in different ways. Applying to contribute to the Common Ground project felt like a small but meaningful step in this direction. Alongside this, I will also be presenting work in two exhibitions later in the summer and speaking at a conference in Kent in July, all of which form part of a broader effort to allow the research to circulate more widely.

The Common Ground project itself is a community food growing and artmaking programme based at the Auxiliary Gallery in Middlesbrough. Guided by a range of artists, agricultural practitioners and community members, the project aims to develop a micro farm where participants can grow produce together, cultivating food to eat, grow and share collectively. Alongside the practical work of establishing the micro farm, the programme also incorporates a range of creative activities within the garden space, from constructing bee hotels to producing murals and other collaborative artworks.

The sessions take place throughout the year within the Auxiliary’s social space and the outdoor allotment area adjacent to the gallery. They are free to attend and designed to be accessible to a wide range of participants, welcoming individuals of all ages and skill levels who are interested in community, food growing and creative activity. The project is managed by Sue Loughlin, who has been instrumental in shaping the programme and fostering an environment that encourages participation, experimentation and shared learning.

What particularly drew me to the project was the proximity of the work to my own local environment. As someone who lives and works in the North-East, the opportunity to contribute to a community initiative within Middlesbrough felt significant. Much of my research involves walking across landscapes in northern England and southern Scotland, yet this project offered a different kind of engagement with land and soil, one situated within an urban context and embedded within a local community. Participating therefore felt not only relevant to my research but also important on a personal level, allowing the work to connect directly with the place in which I live.

Equally compelling was the possibility of sharing aspects of my research that explore soil as a living material. The garden space created an opportunity to think collectively about how soil might be understood, sensed and worked with, not simply as a medium for cultivation but as a dynamic ecological system. Being part of a group of individuals willing to exchange knowledge, experiences and practical processes around soil felt both generative and aligned with the broader intentions of my research.

Workshop One, Sensing Soil and Earth Batteries

I was invited to deliver two workshops within the programme, which took place across two consecutive weeks. The sessions were structured in this way because some of the processes involved require time to develop. Sue was very supportive of this approach and later suggested the possibility of a third session following the success of the first two (spoiler alert).

The first workshop focused on sensing soil and considering it as a tangible material within the landscape. We began by discussing what soil is and how it might be read beyond its conventional role as a growing medium. Participants were encouraged to think about soil as a living system composed of complex microbial networks, mineral structures and energetic exchanges.

One of the central activities involved the creation of simple earth batteries. Using galvanised steel rods inserted into soil samples, participants were able to measure the small electrical potentials generated by the soil itself. I first demonstrated the process in the garden space, showing how different soils can produce measurable electrical outputs when connected to a meter reader. Participants then worked in small groups to construct their own batteries using soil unearthed from the garden.

Alongside this, I introduced additional soil samples that I had collected from different urban locations across Middlesbrough. This allowed participants to compare soils from various environments and observe how the electrical outputs differed. At one point the activity became unexpectedly competitive, as participants compared readings to see whose soil battery generated the highest voltage.

We also experimented with smaller scale versions of the batteries using ice cube trays, enabling several soils to be tested simultaneously. This approach encouraged participants to think experimentally about soil and to consider how subtle variations in soil composition might produce different energetic responses.

Towards the end of the session, I introduced the next stage of the workshop series, soil chromatography. Due to time limitations, I was unable to demonstrate the full preparation process during the session itself. Instead, I collected the soil samples unearthed during the workshop and prepared them at home so they would be ready for the following week.

Workshop Two, Soil Chromatography and Lumen Prints

The second workshop began with a short recap of the previous session before moving into the process of creating soil chromatographic prints. Some participants returned from the first week while others joined for the first time, which created a dynamic mixture of familiarity and new perspectives within the group.

Soil chromatography is a technique that allows patterns within soil samples to develop through capillary action on prepared paper filters. As the soil solution moves across the paper it produces distinctive forms, revealing structures that can be interpreted in relation to soil health and biological activity.

Participants prepared and set off their own chromatographic prints using the soil samples gathered from the garden. Over time the prints began to develop a range of intricate patterns, spikes, channels, cloud-like formations and subtle variations in colour. We spent time discussing how these forms might be read and what they might suggest about the life within the soil.

Following this activity, we moved into another experimental process, lumen printing, using the soil solutions unearthed from the garden the previous week. Participants were to consider what soil meant or just experiment with soil as an artistic voice, allowing for the soil to react with the photographic paper. The prints developed slowly in the sunlight, creating delicate impressions of organic forms across the photographic paper. Unfortunately, due to time constraints, participants were informed to take their prints home and allow for them to expose and develop across the week in sunlight.

While these activities were playful and accessible, they were underpinned by a deeper conceptual intention. At the centre of the workshops was the idea of giving soil a form of presence, an agency, a kind of language. By engaging with soil through electricity, pattern formation and photographic processes, participants were encouraged to consider it not as inert matter but as something active and expressive.

Conversations and Reflections

One of the most rewarding aspects of the workshops was the diversity of people who attended. The group included participants of different ages, genders and cultural backgrounds. While many of the participants were women, the conversations that emerged reflected a wide range of experiences and relationships with land and soil.

During one discussion I spoke with a participant originally from Pakistan who shared perspectives on soil and agriculture from her own cultural background. Our conversation moved into questions surrounding colonisation, power and the historical dominance of Western European and white male structures in shaping how land and knowledge are valued.

Her reflections raised important questions about who holds authority over environmental knowledge and who carries responsibility for caring for the soil. It was not an easy conversation to respond to in a definitive way, yet it was deeply thought provoking. It reminded me that soil, while often discussed in scientific or ecological terms, is also entangled with histories, politics and cultural memory.

For me, this conversation opened another dimension of reflection within my research. It prompted me to consider more carefully how my own position within academic and artistic structures might influence the ways in which I speak about soil, and how those positions might also be used to promote care and attentiveness toward it.

In this sense the workshops did more than simply introduce creative activities. They created a space where soil could become a point of connection, discussion and reflection, allowing different forms of knowledge and experience to meet.

Engagement, Perception and Play

What became increasingly evident across both workshops was a shared attentiveness that began to emerge amongst participants, a collective shift towards recognising soil as a living, energetic material rather than an inert substance. Through discussion and practical engagement, soil was gradually reframed as something fundamentally tied to human existence, not only as a support system for food production but as a complex biological entity with parallels to our own human development.

One of the more striking moments within these discussions came when I introduced the statistic that a single teaspoon of soil contains millions of micro-organisms and thousands of bacterial species. For many participants, this was almost incomprehensible, difficult to fully grasp in scale and implication. Alongside this, the often-cited projection that there may be only around fifty harvests remaining under current industrial agricultural practices prompted a visible sense of concern within the group. While my intention was not to alarm, these points acted as catalysts for reflection, encouraging participants to reconsider the largely passive ways in which soil is encountered and utilised within contemporary life.

At the same time, it felt important to balance these conversations with a more open and accessible mode of engagement. Alongside discussions of soil depletion and the need for reciprocal care, I introduced the idea of reconnecting with soil through memory and embodied experience. I shared a personal recollection from childhood, diving and sliding across muddy ground as a goalkeeper, engaging physically and instinctively with soil without hesitation or separation.

This prompted a wider conversation, asking participants to reflect on their own memories of soil. Framing the question in this way, as a memory rather than a present experience, carried an interesting ambiguity, as though soil itself might already be something partially lost or distanced from everyday life. While this is not yet the case, it gestures towards a possible future if current trajectories of depletion continue.

The intention behind this exercise was to encourage a more immediate, almost child-like mode of engagement, one grounded in curiosity, tactility and play. By shifting attention away from soil as ‘dirt’ and towards soil as something to be touched, explored and experienced, participants were able to engage more freely and directly with the material throughout the workshops.

What emerged across both sessions was a sense of playful entanglement between the human and non-human. Interactions with soil were not purely instructional or observational but became exploratory. Conversations developed not only between myself and the participants, but between participants themselves, generating a shared space of exchange where stories, knowledge and ideas could circulate.

This was particularly encouraging to witness, especially as these workshops marked one of my first attempts to use my research as a framework for public engagement. The openness of the discussions and the willingness of participants to contribute their own perspectives suggested that soil can act as a powerful point of connection, capable of initiating meaningful dialogue around land, ecology and human responsibility.

The Chapter Presentation

Approximately one month after the workshops, I was contacted by Sue Loughlin and invited to contribute to the Common Ground meal, a quarterly gathering that brings together individuals working across the creative and social sectors. The event functions as a space for artists, community organisers and organisations to share ideas and discuss themes emerging from the Common Ground project.

The original speaker for the event had unfortunately cancelled, and Sue suggested that, following the positive engagement of the workshops, my research might offer a valuable contribution to the discussion. Unlike the previous sessions, this invitation did not require the delivery of a practical workshop. Instead, it provided an opportunity to speak more directly about my practice and the conceptual frameworks underpinning my research into land and soil.

Approaching this differently, I began to consider how best to generate a meaningful and open conversation. Coincidentally, I had recently completed a draft chapter of my PhD focusing on soil. Presenting this chapter felt like an appropriate and timely approach, not only as a way of activating discussion, but also as an opportunity to test how the writing communicated beyond an academic context. I was particularly interested in how the chapter was received in terms of its clarity, structure and critical positioning within current environmental and artistic discourse.

The response to the presentation was both engaged and generative. Rather than a lecture-style delivery, the session quickly developed into an open dialogue. Participants posed a range of thoughtful and probing questions, addressing both the conceptual and methodological aspects of the work. These included questions around my use of autoethnographic unearthing as a research method, how notions of soil care are embedded within the practice, and how the idea of a ‘soil language’ might be understood or identified.

There was also a strong interest in the role of photography within the research. Participants questioned whether photography functions as the primary method of practice, or whether it has emerged through my position within photographic academia. This led to further discussion around whether soil language can be articulated through photographic processes alone, and what possibilities might exist for engaging with soil beyond visual representation.

Other questions extended towards the future of the research, particularly how the work might evolve beyond the PhD and what forms it might take in terms of public engagement, installation or continued dialogue. These conversations were both challenging and affirming. They demonstrated that the research is not only generating interest but is also prompting critical reflection and curiosity within others.

Importantly, the dialogue remained constructive and supportive throughout. The environment allowed for an exchange of ideas between individuals with shared interests in land, ecology and creative practice. As a result, I left the session with a renewed sense of confidence that the research is asking relevant questions, engaging with contemporary concerns around soil and land, and maintaining a clear relationship between conceptual enquiry and visual artistic outcomes.

As noted earlier, one of my intentions this year has been to extend the reach of my research, engaging more actively with local communities as well as broader audiences. My involvement with Common Ground has marked a significant step in this process. The workshops and subsequent presentation created opportunities for ongoing conversations, with participants sharing contact details and expressing interest in continuing dialogue around the work.

This has already begun to develop further. Following the presentation, I met with Nell Catchpole at MIMA, who had attended the event and is currently undertaking a PhD at Newcastle University. Her research similarly engages with the landscapes of the North-East, with a particular focus on the presence and formation of iron within soil. Our conversation explored potential ways of collaboratively investigating soil through sound, considering accessible tools, recording techniques and do-it-yourself approaches to capturing the subtle energies and processes within soil environments.

Equally, the meeting offered a valuable moment of shared experience, reflecting on the realities of undertaking doctoral research and recognising common ground, both conceptually and personally, within our respective practices.

In this sense, the Common Ground project has extended beyond a series of workshops or a single presentation. It has begun to form a network of connections, conversations and potential collaborations, reinforcing the importance of situating research within lived, local contexts while allowing it to expand outward into broader dialogues.