Nana’s House wasn’t a gallery. It wasn’t a workshop programme. It wasn’t even really an exhibition in the traditional sense. It was something else entirely - a public living room, a space to rest, to remember and to feel welcome.

Intro, or The Formal Gubbins for Funders – before we dive into the real stuff.

Nana’s House was a temporary public art project housed in a disused shop unit in Castle Dene Shopping Centre. Part of the Into the Light programme that funds Place Lab Peterlee, it brought together community, artists and place to explore what happens when people are invited into a space that feels like “Nana’s House.”

Led by artist Ruth Flowers and co-curated with Zara Worth, the project featured work from around 11 exhibiting artists but engaged with around 20 when we consider the folks we roped in to vibe with us - mostly on marketing and digital capture, but also in things like sign-writing, vertical video and the procurement of 80s television sets. The core group were members of STRIKE collective who exhibited a range of pieces inspired by Nanas and female matriarchs. The branding was designed by David Bracknell. It included drop-in sessions and bookable workshops, interactive elements, fresh flowers and a simple offer: come in, have a cup of tea and stay as long as you like. On Mother’s Day, the final day, we gave away flowers to visitors. Many of the artworks were interactive and the invigilators wore Nana-style tabards – part of the charm and character of the space. The kettle was always on and the get-in took three days. Take-down took one. Beamish Museum provided a full Nana’s House living room set, curated from their collections – much of which had never been shown in public before. The space also featured pictures of Peterlee and County Durham Nanas from STRIKE Collective and wider photographs of women in Peterlee industry from The Story in Durham. I was the Creative Producer, through my work on Place Lab Peterlee with No More Nowt .

Over two weeks, we welcomed 889 people through the doors - an average of 12 per hour - with many staying for long conversations and more visiting multiple times.

The No More Nowt Instagram posts reached more than 15,000 people, making this our most engaged digital content to date.

This Is Why We Do It

Beyond the numbers, what made this project work was the intention behind it - to centre older women within a place’s narrative - you might call that Placemaking/Place-Making. When Ruth Flowers approached Place Lab Peterlee with her idea, I knew it had the potential to be an environment where working-class people in a post-industrial town didn’t have to decode the art - they were part of it.

This is why we do it. Because when art is rooted in everyday life, people respond. Because stories matter. And because places like Peterlee deserve meaningful investment - not just in infrastructure, but in the creative, cultural and social spaces that help communities breathe.

Centred, Not Decoded

Nana’s House was conceived and led by artist Ruth Flowers, whose practice is grounded in social engagement and everyday materials. This project marked a return to her roots - both geographically and personally - prompting questions about womanhood and what it means to be a female artist working in a so-called ‘left behind’ place.

In her original proposal, Ruth wrote:

“What does it mean to be a woman in a town requested by miners and named after a man, Peter Lee? What does it mean to be a female creative living in a ‘left behind’ area?”

Rooted in Ruth

Nana’s House explored those questions with care and humour. It was an invitation to think about gender, aging, memory and change - without asking people to intellectualise their experiences.

Instead, the space did the work, creating familiarity, encouraging interaction and gently amplifying the voices of older women and matriarchs. Ruth describes her grandmother Nancy - a miner’s daughter and miner’s wife - as a woman of “no-nonsense but nurturing presence,” someone who could “tell you how it was” with a kind of deep-rooted authority. Nana’s House channeled that spirit. It celebrated women like Nancy not as nostalgic symbols, but as powerful figures who hold communities together.

Working with fellow STRIKE members, Ruth created a space that welcomed people in and invited them to contribute through collage, storytelling, drawing, conversation or just presence. The project was never about spectacle. It was about listening, noticing and making sure people saw themselves reflected in the work.

No-Nonsense, Nurturing

This kind of artist-led, embedded process takes time and care. It also demonstrates the value of investing in artists who know their communities, not just as residents, but as makers, connectors and cultural workers. Projects like Nana’s House show what happens when artists are given the space and support to lead.

The Door Was Always Open

We do this work because it creates space for people to say the things they didn’t know they needed to say.

People came into Nana’s House for all kinds of reasons. Some thought it was a charity shop. Others had seen something online. Some were just curious. But nearly all of them stayed longer than they meant to. We made them a cup of tea. They sat down. And then they started to talk.

They told stories about childhood, about their own Nanas, about what had changed and what hadn’t. They talked about parenting, about loss, about housing, about care work, about what makes a home feel safe.

“I just came in to get out of the wind. But I’m glad I did. I haven’t had a proper chat with anyone since last Friday.”

“It smells like biscuits in here.”

“It feels like a church, but without the pressure to believe anything.”

“I’ve had a crap week. This helped. You didn’t ask me to perform, you just let me be.”

Stories That Stick

Some people came in and sat quietly. Others brought biscuits to share. One woman came back day after day, a third space for her and her autistic daughter where they could just exist, without the need to conform, and at no cost. There is nowhere else where they can easily access services that support her daughter, that don’t require them to travel, which is difficult for them.

Another pulled a tombola ticket that read "Put ya bloody vest on" and laughed so hard she cried.

A teenage lad showed us his jacket, proudly explaining how his Nana had mended it five times. One visitor told us she hadn’t spoken much since her husband went into care and that Nana’s House was the first place she’d felt at ease in months.

Nothing Asked, Everything Shared

This space didn’t need to ask anything of people. It just welcomed them.

“I didn’t grow up with a Nana, but this made me imagine what it would’ve been like. It gave me that.”

“These are all our stories. Not just the big-deal people. Ours.”

“I live alone. I don’t go out much. I felt like I was in the way everywhere else. But here, I didn’t.”

Soft Without Sentiment

Nana’s House showed what happens when you make room for the people who are usually expected to just carry on. It gave visibility to the stories that underpin community, and dignity to those who don’t often get it. This kind of space is rare. It’s soft without being sentimental. Political without shouting. Creative without demanding outcomes. It met people where they were and proved that showing up, being seen and being listened to is both radical and restorative.

• 889 people came through the door.

• More than 1,000 people engaged across the full project.

• Over 15,000 reached online via No More Nowt.

That’s without glossy branding or a national campaign. Just a strong idea, embedded care and the right support to make it happen.

Some might call it 'Community’ Art, but I call it common sense.

This is why we do it. And this is why we believe in artist-led, grassroots culture. Because it works. Because it reaches people. Because it shows us - quietly, powerfully - what communities really want. This is why we should invest more and more into programmes and projects that put people at the centre of the creative work, some might call it ‘community’ art, but I call it common sense.

Nana’s House was a direct response to Place Lab’s ambition to test new ways of making, connecting and imagining within left behind town centres - it was directly informed by Peterlee and County Durham. The project foregrounded:

People and Communities 
At its core, the project invited everyday people to shape and define the space. It centred matriarchs, carers, parents, artists and those often excluded from traditional arts spaces. No prior knowledge or access was needed, just the willingness to come in and share.

Space and Place 
By reactivating a disused retail unit in Peterlee, Nana’s House demonstrated how even short-term creative use can shift perceptions of place. It transformed a quiet corner of the town centre into a living, breathing space for reflection and joy. Ruth Flowers didn’t parachute in - she returned, rooted, and built something with care. The project modelled what happens when artists are trusted to lead with their own voice while holding space for others. The work was artist-led but collectively shaped.

Food, Hospitality and Care 
While not a food-based project in a traditional sense, the offer of tea, biscuits and a warm welcome was central. These elements functioned as tools of hospitality - welcoming people into a space that felt familiar and safe. Many of the invigilators held conversations far beyond their remit, with open hearts and warm smiles - an artist isn’t a therapist, but many have softer skills that are greater than the sum of their parts. Imagine talking to someone at the Baltic about your Nana.

Fluxus / Happenings / Participation 
Nana’s House wasn’t static. It unfolded. Conversations became content. Participation happened informally. Someone drawing a brooch or sharing a story became part of the work. The exhibition held space for process and participation in equal measure. This project offers a clear model for how Place Lab’s values can be translated into meaningful, artist-led activity in public space. It shows what’s possible when artists are supported to take creative risks, and when care is seen as an artistic strategy in its own right.

I had a lovely time.

Once again -

Ruth Flowers and her Insta

SOFT SPACES

We believe in the smell of biscuits.

We believe art doesn’t need to shout to be heard.

We believe matriarchs hold more power than monuments.

We believe tea counts as participation.

We believe in velvet chairs and felt walls.

We believe a raffle drum can be an oracle.

We believe care is a radical strategy.

We believe grief belongs in galleries.

We believe people open up when the lighting’s right.

We believe nostalgia can be political.

We believe in wallpaper as cultural memory.

We believe free biscuits are a form of access.

We believe women’s voices shouldn’t need an event to be heard.

We believe conversation is a kind of making.

We believe quiet spaces make loud impacts.

We believe in ‘Don’t Tell Ya Mam’ as creative provocation.

We believe Peterlee is more than its name.

We believe soft spaces build strong communities.

We believe not everything has to be explained.

We believe everyone has a Nana—even if they didn’t.

We believe in people who bring their own biscuits.

We believe in framed cross-stitch as cultural commentary.

We believe in hot water bottles and quiet rage.

We believe in bingo dabbers as legitimate art tools.

We believe in tab ends, tasselled lampshades and telly on loud.

We believe in being sentimental and dead hard at the same time.

We believe in the ones who say “I’m not creative” then make something brilliant.

We believe plastic fruit has emotional weight.

We believe in the strength of a slow burner.

We believe in memories hidden in biscuit tins.

We believe the best stories come halfway through a second brew.

We believe in wallpaper that’s seen it all.

We believe in unspoken codes and cupboard systems.

We believe in mams who held it together with sellotape and stubbornness.

We believe in saving the good crockery just in case.

We believe a cup of tea won’t fix everything, but it’s where you start.

We believe Peterlee deserves joy, art and glitter glue.

We believe in kitchens as archives.

We believe in the radical act of being warm, open and unbothered.

We believe some truths can only be said through collage.

We believe legacy can live in a knitted toilet roll cover.

We believe in work that’s been handed down, not written down.

We believe in the sound of someone just nipping in.

We believe that soft is not the opposite of serious.

We believe the personal is political. And it probably drinks PG Tips.

We believe in the lad who came in to charge his phone and stayed to talk about grief.

We believe in the woman who came in every day and brought her own biscuits by the end.

We believe in people who sit down and say “I’m not staying long,” then stay an hour.

We believe in showing your Nana off through fuzzy felt.

We believe in collage as autobiography.

We believe in making something daft and feeling dead proud of it.

We believe in brooches shaped like biscuits.

We believe in tombola tickets that give you life advice.

We believe in the one who couldn’t stop laughing when she read “Don’t tell ya Mam.”

We believe in a space where people don’t have to perform being fine.

We believe in finding out who someone is through what they remember.

We believe in slowing down long enough to listen.

We believe in being nosy, gentle, and generous.

We believe in the lad who said “This is art? That’s mad.”

We believe in the woman who saw the wallpaper and cried.

We believe in using a shop unit to store stories instead of stock.

We believe in “I haven’t spoken to anyone properly since Christmas.”

We believe in Nanas who made mash with no lumps.

We believe in rotas, tea towels, and rota’d tea towels.

We believe in asking questions no one else is asking.

We believe in lasses who put moustaches on their felt grannies and laughed till they cried.

We believe in turning “just passing” into “just stayed.”

We believe in the ordinary as extraordinary.

We believe in the strength of being told, “I see you.”

We believe in never underestimating the power of a warm chair, a good listen and a decent biscuit.

The images used above are mostly by TJ Mov.

The others are candids by various folks, including one of me da’.

1. Nana’s House; Why We Do It