Ripples and Thing Power in Manchester

This blog was originally written for the York St John University Interdisciplinary Witches Research Group

On Friday 10th April, I attended and presented at the Annual Conference of the British Sociological  Association in Manchester. I was speaking about a chapter of my thesis that, for a ‘recovering scientist’ is proving to be the most complex to understand and conceptualise, and, to top it all off, I had no voice due to a recent virus. Nevertheless, I got up early and enjoyed a scenic train ride across the Pennines before disembarking in Manchester. To someone who has spent the last 25 years living in the Vale of York, the Pennines are so wonderfully dramatic with gnarly, moss laden trees, the sandstone of Huddersfield and farms nestled on the hillsides. In an alternate reality, I see myself lurking on those hillsides in an old weather-beaten cloak, lamenting mournfully about something profound and cursing those who irked me (don’t be judging me for this!).

Back in this world, I arrived at the conference venue and after five cups of complementary tea, I managed to croak and cough my way through my presentation. I was speaking about the wortcunners from my research and how I am exploring their entryways into the of world of plant kinship via various new materialist concepts such as intra-actions, assemblages, diffractive theory and rhizomatic analysis (Karen Barad; Jane Bennett; Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari). By utilising these concepts, I hope to highlight how the more-than-human vegetal world (and other human/non-human entities) entangled and assembled to co-create the conditions for the entryway. For example, this quote by Daisy was used to showcase diffractive theory, a theory that is best visualised as droplets of water creating ripples that meet, overlap, and interfere with each other, causing new ripples and patterns.

“It goes back to childhood. I just loved plants. I was the one who used to go off wandering over the fields, picking plants and wanting to press them and work out what they were. Both sets of grandparents were gardeners. My parents really just didn't have time. They were busy. I did get a big love of plants particularly from one grandmother. She wasn't a herbalist, but she just loved plants. And so I learned a lot about growing from her. And I've passed that on to one of my sons who is actually now loving gardening and plants. That’s been wonderful to have that happen”.

In this quote, we can see how various material entities such as the fields, the grandmother and even the absent parents are constitutive in the becoming of Daisy and her love for plants. Particularly constitutive in my eyes, are the presence of a grandmother who was so instrumental in Daisy’s childhood and the absence of the parents, enabling this relationship between grandmother and granddaughter to emerge. The rippling and diffracting of these entities also travels through time and generations as we can see with Daisy’s son who is now a keen gardener and plant lover.

The feedback to my presentation was (thankfully) positive and the other delegates offered good advice on how I can entangle myself and actual plants in the meaning-making process. Having no energy or voice left to network over lunch, I nipped across the road and visited Manchester Museum which was, amazingly in this day and age, free of charge! Thing-Power (see Bennet) was in full force as I wandered around the gift shop (if I had money, I would have bought so many wildflower-themed ‘things’), but Will-Power won out in the end. In the Egyptology section, I was very excited to see some female fertility idols (I have previously published a paper on my co-becoming with the Willendorf goddess), Bast statuettes and scarab beetle amulets. I moved quickly through the stuffed animal section (too sad for me), salivated (not literally) over an old tarot deck, and came across a glorious Buddha, a symbol that, even to atheist and non-Buddhists, is ‘sticky’ (see Sara Ahmed) with a symbolism of serenity, peace, wisdom and acceptance.

What struck me with a strong whimsical force that only comes with the passing of time, was just how vital and vibrant this part of Manchester felt. The older university buildings co-existing comfortably with the new, and young people (and young of heart) going about their lives. The place was indeed awash with ripples.