SAM BATLEY TRACKS :
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I arrived in Liverpool on the 2nd of September 2019, with a bag. Feeling scared mixed into a nervous sense of relief I walked over to the dock from Liverpool One Bus Station to have a look at the water. I’d been falling for years and finally landed. PJ Smith met me shortly after, the recovery lead at Damien John Kelly house, a recovery living centre for men in Wavertree that bases recovery around the arts, sport and culture. I was their new resident, this is the pivot point of my life, the boundary between before and after. One side addiction, the other recovery. Creativity is the thread that has joined them together.
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My first experience with art was at my Grandma’s house. She was a bit eccentric and highly self-reliant; with a strong working class work ethic and a belief that most things could be fixed or mended before they get thrown. Her house was full of ornaments, pictures and things for making. She painted, drew, made clothes, crocheted, cross stitched; she always seemed to have something on the go on the kitchen table. I first started drawing, then painting Airfix models and Warhammer figures. I loved the escapism of it, providing a safe space to retreat into. I’d save money from my paper round and a quid from my dinner money each day to get paint or new figures at the weekend. Even though I was engaging in creativity, it never felt like it was for me outside of my Grandma’s and my room. There were no real examples of it, it felt like a secret I was engaged in and couldn’t share, embarrassed by it. School compounded these beliefs around what being good at art meant i.e being able to draw something that looks like the thing. I opted out, at around the age of 13/14 shot my figures
with a pellet gun and started drinking on the weekends instead. Growing up, being authentic felt too scary. So I’d mask up and pretend to act the big’en. The drink gave me everything that I wanted, I felt confident, I felt a part of. I was one of the lads. I felt like I was becoming a ‘someone’, I began forming my identity on what I thought I should be, based on the masculine norms that surrounded me through drinking and drugging. I absolutely loved it. Fortunately, these experiences have not been lost on me. They have informed my story and provided a well of inspiration to be unpicked and understood.
I wouldn’t start making again until around age 21/22. While working on a college assignment, I flipped the exercise sheet to the blank side and started drawing geometric patterns. I felt the feeling of flow for the first time in a long time. I got lost in it. The light got switched back on. I quickly became obsessed and a little manic with these geometric shapes, taking it to the point of hammering loads of nails into my wall and linking them with thread. Writing followed next. My sister Hannah had always written and had started to share her writing with me, sharing benefits she felt she got from it. I got myself into a tight spot and went to stay with her for a couple of weeks. On the first day of being with her we talked over tea, before she went out to work she handed me a notepad and asked me to give it a go. I’d already made my mind up with a pretty firm rigidity that creative writing was absolutely not for me. The truth
being I felt stupid with it, I was bad at spelling, my handwriting was shit and I felt like I was no good. Hannah broke this down for me, gave me permission and allowed space for me to have a go. I did have a go, when she left I put the pen to paper. It felt like I was purging myself onto the page. The pen didn’t lift throughout the whole thing. When she returned I read it to her and got emotional. It was a mad experience, so mad that I carried on with it. Collage followed writing, after removing a load of old art books/picture books from a house clearance. Curiosity led to cutting them up, and sticking them back together. I loved and still do love the playful element of collage - the idea of re-constructing something that’s lost or forgotten into something new.
Creativity always felt sporadic; it would come and go, it was a part of my life but absent at the same time. I could never fully commit to it. In between labouring jobs and drinking, there wasn’t really much time left for it. I’d perform my writing then feel terrible the morning after. I got into doing light shows for bands and DJ’s which was great, but just provided an excuse to party. During this time I did start knocking about with some really great people and artists, the likes of Sean O’Connell, Toria Garbutt, George Addy, Will Addy, Al Clarke, Harley Roberts, Paul Chambers and Sam Horton - each one of these people has inspired me in their own unique way. Each holding up a bit of light, helping to break down my beliefs about Art and myself. These friends were all engaged in expression and through their expression I felt more
PHOTOGRAPHY FELT MUCH DIFFERENT LIKE I HAD ENTERED A DIFFERENT KIND OF DIALOGUE WITH MYSELF AND THE WORLD.
comfortable and able to express too. As I went through my 20s my alcoholism progressed too. I was very much still on the search for something external to fix how I felt internally. Repeating the same behaviours expecting different results, an absolute classic case of big ego and low self esteem. The things I made slowly deteriorated. I was in a loop of moving out of my mums or sisters then moving back in, changing cities, jobs, towns and countries. This cycle of repetition saw me move back into my mums for the last time just before Christmas 2018. I was stuck, good and proper this time. The previous Christmas my mum got me a Canon Eos 300 35 mm SLR for the sole reason it was made the same year I was born. I’d not used it much before I moved back. On return I began taking photos of where I was at. In retrospect, I was kind of documenting my own demise. Trying to make sense out of being back in the place I always tried to get away from, again. The madness of it, the familiarity, the beauty of the landscape. I fell in love with getting my photos back, properly eager to see what I’d taken. The physicality of the 6x4s. Photography felt much different like I had entered a different kind of dialogue with myself and the world. It felt accessible and raw. Even when all my money was going to other things, it held a priority. My alcoholism peaked
in 2019, in the August of that year I arrived at the point where I accepted I was an alcoholic and I needed help. 4 days later I landed in Liverpool. I’d met PJ once before he knew I wrote and took photos. Before my assessment for DJK started he looked at me and said “it’s a myth that you need drugs and alcohol to be creative.’’
He was absolutely right. I did what was suggested from the get go. For the first few months my priority was immersing myself in recovery. I started attending sessions at The Brink, leading me to SHARP (Self Help Addiction Recovery Programme), a non-residential rehab. During rehab I began to unpack my past and make sense of the patterns and cycles I’d been stuck in. I started to learn about the reality of addiction and in doing so learnt about the reality of recovery too. I learnt that there is no cure for addiction but there is a pretty solid solution in belonging, purpose
and connection.
THE OLD FAMILIAR FEELINGS OF [OPEN
EYE
GALLERY]
BEING A PLACE NOT FOR THE LIKES OF ME CAME RIGHT UP. (...) I HAD A ‘FUCK IT’ MOMENT.
During treatment I started going to the library in town to work on the written exercises that were set in rehab, I became a frequent visitor. On the bus home from the library one night, nursing a tender new perspective and the beginnings of a relationship with myself, I got the urge to write. The bus was full, it was January time, condensation filled the windows. I sat at the front of the bus, took out my pen and paper and started writing the first line read, “Three Bullmastiffs In A Corner Kitchen”. It was a similar feeling to what I experienced at our Hannah’s house. Once I started I couldn’t stop. When I got back to the house, I continued. I was buzzing that I had started writing again, and quickly began writing regularly. It felt different this time. Recovery gave me a new honesty and a new openness for trying things I’d previously disregarded. I carried on going to the library. I felt like a sponge soaking up new information. I rented out different art books, scanned my prints in, messed around collaging
on the scanners and started to look on the computers for information about places I could potentially volunteer. I found Open Eye Gallery. They were looking for volunteers, my first reaction was one of discomfort. The old familiar feelings of OEG being a place not for the likes of me came right up. I sat on it. The following week saw they had an event for a volunteer lead publication called Platform. I had a fuck it moment. I gathered my things and went down. Approaching Mann Island I felt a similar set of nerves as arriving at DJK. Fully out of my comfort zone. Natalie and Sorcha were amazing and while chatting I felt my nerves settle. Nat asked if I’d be interested in volunteering and handed me an application form. This is one of the days that I often reflect back on, it feels incredibly valuable to me. It feels like a clear crossroads in my life. I can trace so many wonderful things I have now back to that moment. Needless to say I took the application back the next day and they took me on. I called PJ when I got the news and cried down the phone to him, it felt like a massive achievement that fully aligned with the authentic parts of myself. He told me “the best is yet to come.”
As a volunteer the discomfort of being in an unfamiliar environment quickly turned into excitement. I loved it. I said yes to everything I could, made myself available, asked loads of questions.
Just pure buzzed off being there, I felt engaged through new conversations, I felt empowered artistically. New ideas began to inspire me and a new belief had started to sprout. Maybe this stuff was for me after all. Embracing an attitude of saying yes, I began making more, having a go and approaching other organisations. Starting and finishing an introduction to film making course with First Take, getting onto the OEG Crossing Sectors artist development programme. Volunteering with OEG led
to being offered the role of Assistant Creative Producer in the gallery for 9 months. PJ was right, the best was indeed yet to come! From there I’ve gone on to work offsite on 3 socially engaged commissions partnering with CIC (Community Integrated Care), The Watch Factory and Kensington Health Centre. Working with artists Marge Bradshaw, Andy Yates and Emma Case. I also work with the gallery as a technician installing new works and preparing the gallery for exhibitions.
In the week prior to lockdown I’d bought a couple of cameras from the charity shop down the road and asked the staff at DJK if I could start running a photography/art group. With the new information I was exposed to and the conversations I was having about socially engaged practice at OEG. I started to put on groups and little creative workshops, lifting things straight out of what I was learning and implementing them with the lads I lived with. The project commonly known by the lads as Art Group, has helped form a solid creative culture in DJK. A group takes place every Thursday whether
I’m there or not, working closely with previous resident Jamie Maxfield and current residents to deliver community led sessions. We embrace recovery values of willingness, honesty, and open mindedness within a creative setting. We explore the transferable benefits of expression, how the lessons we learn in art can be applied to real life examples in our recovery. Through discussion, sharing and making we take a look at different perspectives – whether it be through the lens, through writing, painting or drawing. We champion our community, get curious around our individuality whilst
documenting our personal growth and shared experience.
The project has grown organically over the past three and a half years leading us to collaborate, work and exhibit with Dead Pigeon Gallery, Dream Fund, Awesome Liverpool, Sheffield Doc Fest, Ron’s Place, Futureyard, Faculty North, Barnsley Civic, On The Rag Gallery, Open Eye Gallery, Village Books and Ilford Photo. We won an Impact Award from LCR (Liverpool City Region) for our collaboration with the lovely team at Dead Pigeon in 2022 and won an Ilford Photo Community Grant last year. We also launched our first publication ‘A Look At A New Perspective’ last year exhibiting work at Village Books Manchester and hosting an evening of performance at OEG.
During those first weeks of lockdown Paul Chambers rang for a catch up. Paul is a filmmaker and previous to coming into recovery we had done a couple of videos featuring my poetry. He asked if I’d written anything new. I sent him voice recordings of all my new stuff. ‘Three Bullmastiffs in a Corner Kitchen’ included. Paul loved it. We began developing it into a script. We both felt we had something strong and wanted to make it a reality. Opting to crowdfund the project we were successful. The support we received still gets me to this day. Three Bullmastiffs got made, casting the lads from DJK in the film and allowing them to inform the narrative through our shared experience. We had the idea of documenting behind the scenes, which then evolved into producing our feature length
documentary ‘One Day At A Time’, a story of recovery, the importance of community and the magic that is DJK. Three Bullmastiffs was selected at film festivals including Toronto, Moscow, Nottingham International Film Festival, Crystal Palace International Film Festival. Winning best up North at Bolton International Film Festival and getting nominated for a BIFA. Three Bullmastiffs will be released publicly through Directors Notes this year.
‘One Day At A Time’ had its world premier at Sheffield Doc Fest in 2022 and has been shown around the UK in private screenings with MMU, Working Class Creative Database, Gallery 87 Hull, FACT as well as numerous rehabs, recovery services and treatment centres. Its biggest success for me
is that it is shown to men who are interested in moving into DJK to give an idea of what we do, what the culture of DJK is about and the kind of recovery which is on offer here.
We have just released a new short titled ‘Why Worry’, a film we made in collaboration with students at NFTS (The National Film and Television School) which is currently in the film festival circuit.
The creative process and the recovery process feel entwined; they are branches of the same tree. A symbiotic relationship that is continuously offering up opportunities to learn.
Everything comes from the same place, the same root and all the learning I’ve written about so far gets applied into my own practice. I published my first book in 2021, ‘Everyday Bastard’ a catharsis, featuring poetry, old notes and photography from either side of the pivot between addiction and recovery. Last year, I published my second book ‘God Loves A Fretter’. It launched at Village Books in Leeds with a solo exhibition featuring work responding to the themes in the book. The book is a conversation between faith and worry, that without worry there would be no faith. It looks at how the creative process creates a call and response between the internal
world and the external one. 2022 saw me working with the same friends I mentioned earlier Sean, Harley and Sam, alongside Leeds duo Novymir to create Lads Not On Tour, an exhibition dissecting the shared experience of the themes that moulded us. LNOT is a powerful and intense collaboration celebrating heritage, identity, recovery and friendship. The exhibition was commissioned and exhibited at Barnsley Civic in the summer of 2022 and received a 4 star review in the Guardian. In 2023 I exhibited work with the brilliant Working Class Creative Data in ‘It’s A Joy To Be Here’, a group show held at Gallery 87 in Hull.
I’m excited to see what’s on its way this year. There will be more collaboration, more publications, some performance, funding bids and maybe even some clobber. I’m learning all the time. I still doubt myself, I still encounter the same old discomforts. I wouldn’t have it any other way, I’m in a constant state of scratching the surface. Transferable lessons in creating are always being applied to life, and life to creating. Aligned with what feels like my most authentic self, the symbiosis continues. I am incredibly grateful for Open Eye Gallery and its staff, the belief they have instilled in me and the space they have allowed me to believe in myself. When I return to the gallery now, I often look over the dock to the spot I stood in when I first arrived in Liverpool and think to myself “Well fucking in!”.
Art saves. The best is, as always, yet to come.
Images used: Sam Batley / Gary Lambert / Rob Battersby / courtesy of Sam BatleyTracks is a series of case-study-style publications looking at the professional and personal development of an individual. Published by Open Eye Gallery, Tracks considers where an individual and the gallery have intersected or continue to intersect; a record of shared values, learning and impact.
Open Eye Gallery and Sam Batley 2024