Yesterday morning we went down an alley, through a fallen tin fence, walked carefully across more piled and rusty corrugated iron and into a burnt out house to see an exhibition of work by Be Free entitled Welcome to my humble home.
The house was still full of melted and charred debris, the roof open to the sky, and scattered through the rooms were her stenciled little girl, doing her own thing. We picked our way over broken crockery and piles of unidentifiable material, took photos of the art and of destroyed fragments of someone’s life. There was a steady stream of interested people coming through the house as we negotiated charred skeletons of couches and piles of melted videos.
As we walked back out, a young woman stood worriedly in the backyard, staring at the pile of rusted tin roof, not sure how to negotiate it. I offered her my hand and reassurance that it was pretty solid and she walked gingerly across, holding my hand for balance.
As well as a chance to see some beautiful, playful street art, this exhibition and especially this moment, was an incredible moment of community between strangers.