Harriet Mena Hill Brings Crumbling Concrete Back To Life
For three decades, Harriet Mena Hill has been a resident of South East London. This area is known in the art world for its schools, such as the esteemed Camberwell College of Arts. But Hill and others who lived there for some time remember it as a historically working-class and, at times, impoverished area of the city. That impoverishment is what prompted the construction of one of Europe’s biggest social housing projects: the Aylesbury Estate, begun in 1963 and completed in 1977. In 2018, Hill’s work in arts education brought her to the site, and it led to a major shift in her broader artistic practice.
“The Estate had a notorious reputation—for drugs, violence, threats and intimidation,” Hill says. “My experience working there was a complete contrast to public perception. I encountered a group of highly engaged, positive and friendly young people eager to participate and who were very strong in helping each other. As an artist, I felt compelled to address the maligned reputation which had adversely affected the community for years, a portrait created and perpetuated through the media who had seemingly never bothered to discover the 360-degree truth about life on the estate.”
Two major projects were born from that workshop she hosted for residents: The Aylesbury Fragments, a series of paintings on rubble from the ongoing rebuilding of the Estate, and Soft Concrete, which “seeks to counteract the public perception of the Aylesbury as a failed estate through a series of large portraits of the blocks made in felt.” Both use unconventional canvases to convey the life that has dwelled there.
“I wanted to explore the lived experience of residents, what their experience of community was and had been, and what the effect of living through an entire estate regeneration—or demolition—is like,” Hill says. “My interest was and is in presenting views of the estate and the conditions of change the community is living with developed from research and growing friendships with residents and real time experience of being on the estate every day.”
Hill says that her broader research into the Estate “considers how art can ask and invite questions about how communities are treated by the media, as political pawns and as ‘subjects’ without further objectifying them.” The Aylesbury Estate’s own place in that conversation includes moments like a freshly elected Tony Blair making his first speech as prime minister there, decrying that “the poorest people in our country have been forgotten by government.”
… ART CAN ASK AND INVITE QUESTIONS ABOUT HOW COMMUNITIES ARE TREATED BY THE MEDIA, AS POLITICAL PAWNS AND AS ‘SUBJECTS’ WITHOUT FURTHER OBJECTIFYING THEM.”
For The Aylesbury Fragments, in particular, Hill began to collect concrete pieces directly from the site, with permission. “I need to be open with the people working on site because I don’t want to jeopardize their jobs in any way,” she says, adding that “sometimes concrete is available, unattended on the street and it too finds its way to the studio. The only criteria are that it must come from the Aylesbury. I have had to turn down some very generous offers of beautiful concrete from elsewhere for this reason.”
Each piece offers a glimpse of life from when its structure was occupied, part of what Hill calls “a project of memory and restitution” and “an instinctive reaction to the demolition of a block of flats during lockdown, which had been home to many of the children I had taught on the estate.” These works act as portals, offering peeks into hallways and through exterior windows, with signs of life sprinkled throughout.
Pieces like “Cornerstone” represent a true rarity in the project: two flat surfaces meeting a ninety-degree angle, allowing for new dimensional possibilities in her painting. An avid fossil collector, Hill considers finding these pieces akin to “finding a perfect Echinoid or pristine Ammonite on a windswept beach.” Among the several hundred fragments salvaged, around ten fit into this category. “But I don’t go looking for them,” she says. “I take what is viable to work on.”
Meanwhile, her other series inspired by the Estate, Soft Concrete, emphasizes the “domestic within the stark brutalist design” on felt. There’s a sense of warmth and nostalgia to these large pieces, depicting the varying blocks there. Hill had no experience working in felt prior to this project. “(Before starting the project) I was staying with a friend who was using wool in a wet felting project,” she says. “I saw the colors and the texture of the wool, and it seemed to have a potential which scratched away demanding further exploration. So I experimented. As with the Fragments, it was about trying to utilize the potential of the materials to convey the meaning.”
THE ESTATE HAD A NOTORIOUS REPUTATION—FOR DRUGS, VIOLENCE, THREATS AND INTIMIDATION … MY EXPERIENCE WORKING THERE WAS A COMPLETE CONTRAST TO PUBLIC PERCEPTION.”
Pieces of The Aylesbury Fragments have now traveled across the globe. On social media, Hill’s comment sections are filled with queries from fellow artists on the how, more so than the why, of these paintings adorning reclaimed concrete. When it comes to sharing, Hill says “I spend hours discussing and sharing process with friends and fellow artists. I was a ‘traditional Gesso’ nut for many years before I started painting on salvaged concrete. I used to gesso onto salvaged wooden panels, and the sharing of processes keeps old methods alive, and exchange of knowledge is crucial. However, I’m a bit more wary of Instagram. I had some interactions early on where boundaries were significantly crossed, but my work is about research and synthesis of place and experience, not just the process. It is a pity, the need to be wary. The technical question I am most often asked is about hanging very heavy objects on walls.”
As for the Aylesbury residents’ reaction to these works, Hill returns to the ethos that brought her to the site from the beginning. “A few of the residents are interested, but on the whole, they are much more interested in when the next workshops are taking place,” she says. “They are interested in learning new art skills, getting out of their flats, and meeting friends. I’ve been working with a group of older residents since 2020. There is a lot of talking and laughter, and my artist life is not really in the room. It doesn’t need to be.”*
This article appears in Hi-Fructose Issue 79. Get the full issue in print here.
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