we’re so lucky to have this place, aren’t we? aims to capture the optimism and warmth Alric Avenue Allotments has provided its community during the pandemic. As winter approached its end, I began documenting this allotment, its plot holders, and their families.
With limitless access to the space, I found myself visiting more frequently as the weeks passed, captivated by its serenity. As my affinity with the allotment grew, it became apparent the community unanimously felt the same bond. The allotment offers an escape, some semblance of normality with its connection to nature and provision of a community during a year of enforced social isolation and loneliness.
Allotments are often overlooked, hidden in plain sight within the hearts of towns and communities, their presumed sole purpose, growing produce and acting second home to the retired middle-class. In spite of this, Alric Avenue Allotments comprises a tight-knit and diverse community who get far more out of the space than just fresh food. In London, 1 in 5 of the population have no access to a garden, and with the demand for allotments rising over recent years paired with its rapid increase since the start of the pandemic, the average waiting list for a plot now sits between four to five years. Allotments are invaluable with their multitude of benefits, from physical to mental wellbeing, to the sense of togetherness and belonging within their communities.
With the warm light of spring approaching and simultaneous prospect of lockdown and social distancing easing in the coming months, we’re so lucky to have this place, aren’t we? aspires to depict the positivity of the allotment. Utilizing my considered and intuitive approach, I photograph the space, mine, and the community’s connection to and within it. Seeking to romantically reflect the way this unseen area has provided a haven for us all and a space we are lucky to have.
