Ranti Ehinmola

This performative installation gradually unpacks itself in three phases linked to processes of gentrification and redevelopment. The project encompasses a gradual lowering as a screen of protest, composed of patterns taken from afro hairstyles. In the first phase when it has been determined that the contract will end for one particular shop, the installation lowers part of the curtain. In Phase Two, when the contract has actually ended some months later, the complete curtain is lowered for that particular shop. And gradually in phase 3, all shops will have been closed, and the entire curtain will have been lowered. This curtain creates a new boundary between the reality of the hair shops and the reality of the street, creating a new intimate space for Black women of Peckham.

The protest acts as a true signal and is visible before any of the usual markers of gentrification. Typically, one only knows when a shop is foreclosed or being regenerated visibly once the decisions have already been made and nothing else can be done. Strength in fibres aims to subvert this, demonstrating the reality of the situation to the public.

As part of a plan to refurbish the run-down Peckham Rye station and the surrounding area, Southwark council bought out the leaseholders and owners of six buildings on Blenheim Grove that host hair and nail salons.

Hence, my proposal takes the hair shops on 2-10 Blenheim Grove as its site of intervention because it is already in the process of regeneration. The project is named strength in fibres because it aims to stage a protest using simple yet effective mechanisms. The project develops a system looking to of course address the situation on Blenheim Grove but also address other threatened sites earlier in the process of redevelopment. As a form of protest, the project proposes a performative installation in the form of a knitted transformable façade curtain, working with the material of hair as a way to reclaim Blenheim Grove’s hair spaces.

Knitting communally and on-site is key to the protest, making sure that not only is our end result visible but also our process. Here I have detailed a 1:1 version of this panel by working with the diverse knitting community themselves. We sat together to make these detailed knit pieces, sharing stories and intimate testimonies and reflecting on the process of the afro hair ritual.

The significance of these hair spaces extends beyond beautification and a place of work; they act as impromptu community centres, babysitting venues, and everything in between. Above all, they provide a sense of belonging and intimacy at the centre of daily life. 

In these places, friends could meet for a cup of tea and coffee, salespeople display their items to the unimpressed customers, and hairdressers dance to music or watch their favourite tv dramas as they wait for clients. In some of the more informal premises babies crawl around on the floor and voices are raised in languages and accents from all over the diaspora.  

The afro hair ritual has a rich ancestral history that spans back to the beginning of time. Nonetheless, this history comes with deeply engrained systemic racism that has led to a plethora of micro-aggressions, cultural appropriations, and the false view that European physical features were and will continue to be paramount to beauty. However, movements such as the Natural Hair Movement have allowed Black people, particularly women, to embrace their natural state. To me, the hair ritual can be an extensive intimate act of self-care and preservation.