GALADRIEL’S MIRROR
Written by Ben Tallon
It’s my first school half-term and I’m out stewarding the first rides on new bikes for my son and daughter. We build slowly, rolling over leaf carpets, the kids wary of the false promise of stability from less-than-reliable stabilisers, me on edge knowing how many sleeping dog shits might be awoken and packed into fresh tyre treads with only one mug to clean them off. Then it’s down the park’s long path and across into the arts centre. Eventually we find ourselves making use of the paths around the local police station, which are both smooth, and undercover. My lad gets faster each time he comes down a manageable decline, and my lass opts to ride up, and back on herself, along the top, past the police station entrance. Until now, I’ve been happily present, fresh off a new commission confirmation, enjoying this day off purely. But as my lass trundles along, beaming from under her pink helmet, a swaggering silhouette bowls around the corner with a gait that should only really come from animated illustrations. Caricatures. He’s gnashing gum, and the final dip of his shoulder as he turns and enters the station is downright Dickensian.
Now I’m only half-seeing my daughter because I’ve peeked into Galadriel’s mirror. My imagination gallops up its own hill into technicolour musings over who this character is. Why he’s here. Where he’s from. What he’s done. I quickly check my pre-conceptions and try to consider noble belongings, but I have to shove forward a guess that it might be because of some form of impery. And for arguments sake, I think of all various colourful characters I’ve encountered in my time, those who I know have been up to no good. And the innocence of the child on the bike. What routes to any eventual legally binding appearance at the doors she’s just passed might there be for her? Or any person for that matter? And how is it best avoided? If you’ve followed my work – read my books or listened to my podcast – you’ll know I’m passionate about creativity’s role in the trajectory of a person’s life.
It came up prominently on the Bikestormz episode with Mac Ferrari and Jake100; how kids with purpose, community, and the ability to express themselves tend to make better decisions. There’s every chance that I do all this hard work; teach her to use her creativity, expose her to the things that I feel might meet the personality/ability clues she’s showing me halfway, listen, love, steer, and provide, only for her to be an absolute wrong ‘un, but the chances of that are small. Human needs are relatively basic, but under capitalism, it can be hard for people to find the time, energy, or knowledge to give to their young. There’s no way of telling why people end up swaggering that way, flying off at the handle (not the silhouette – remember I don’t know why he’s here), or becoming prominent members of society for disagreeable reasons, but I look for the upsides. It’s become a habit since chats such as the Bikestormz one. How do we get that aggression into the right space? How do we encourage him to scream at the sky in a way that is healthy and might set him on a different, more constructive course? These characters have inspired me from an early age because they provoke that prize human asset; imagination.
How do we manage the barbed aspects of such individuals while showcasing to them the possibilities in the world for their attractive traits? How do we inject that imagination with an inspiration steroid? That takes patience, time, empathy, belief in the human condition, and nurture; another scarce cocktail under capitalism. It was Shaz, from ‘Addatif’ who I shared London studio space with, who ran youth arts workshops who believed that it took entrepreneurial skills to be a drug dealer, so shouldn’t we be diverting those street smarts?
Anyway, the kids progress with the bikes and I see two more curious arrivals at the station, with less swagger, but equally eye-brow raising vibrancy, and we all head home happy with a lot to reflect upon.