A LETTER FROM LOWESTOFT

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24–26.09.2026

'In August 1992, when the dog days were drawing to an end, I set off to walk the county of Suffolk, in the hope of dispelling the emptiness that takes hold of me whenever I have completed a long stint of work.'

SETTING OUT

ON THE EVENING TRAIN FROM LIVERPOOL STREET

The opening lines of W. G. Sebald's celebrated novel The Rings of Saturn rang with a certain cadence to me as I set out on a pilgrimage of my own towards Lowestoft last Thursday (September 24th), where a world, unknown to me, lay beyond the smog of England's capital.

The dog days were certainly coming to an end, and after the hottest summer on record in the UK, it was difficult not to imagine Sirius (the dog star) gleaming bright above the thin sheet of cloud that covered Liverpool Street as I boarded the train to Lowestoft that evening.

BEYOND THE STATISTICS

WHAT CENSUS FORMS FAIL TO GRASP

Unlike Sebald, whose hopeful nostalgia rapidly disintegrates into diatribe, I identify more strongly with the Macfarlane school of thought, which cautiously 'washes off the greyscale of the Sebaldian world view'.

Statistics, however, do not paint Lowestoft in a pretty light. According to government data published by norfolkinsight.org, 47% of working-age residents are classed as 'economically inactive'. There are also high rates of obesity, and life expectancy in certain areas of the neighbourhood is 8–10 years lower than in surrounding areas, which are already below the national average. Furthermore, the town has a heavily ageing population.

But these figures convey only a small segment of Lowestoft's constitution. What became apparent to me over the course of my stay is that there are stories and roots in Lowestoft that census forms fail to grasp.

FRIDAY MORNING

THE EXCELSIOR TRUST BOATYARD

On Friday morning, sun poured over the South Pier, bathing it in a late-summer haze and casting thin tendrils into the sea. Sebald's bleak 'grey North Sea' was far more lively, dappled with bluey-green hues, its delicate waves lapping the shore.

Leisurely, I wandered through the town towards the bypass, past the North Quay retail park, which was humming with activity, and beyond the sports pitches towards the Excelsior Trust boatyard. Here, I met Joe Farrow, a warm gentleman whose appreciation for boats was neatly conveyed by a remarkable series of scale models of sailing boats that surrounded him as he sat comfortably in his secluded office.

Seated opposite him was Dr. Nigel Helyer, whose introduction I had been greatly anticipating for many weeks. Having listened to him speak, and having read much of his work, I have realised that it would be very difficult for me to explain who Nigel is, and now is not the time to try to do so.

What I can do is describe him. He was leaning forward on his chair listening to Joe when I entered, wearing a black leather jacket, with a black beret slung over the back of his chair. These two items make up Nigel's Suffolk uniform, and make him rather distinguishable, since berets are otherwise conspicuously absent from Lowestoft. His friendly blue eyes are accompanied by a set of thin-framed spectacles that rest on his ears, which are heavily adorned with punk-esque ear studs.

After a fascinating briefing on the yard and the history of sailing in Suffolk, Joe took us for a tour of the site. Bearing in mind this was practically my first exposure to Lowestoft, I was deeply moved by the place.

The site is a place of industry, expertise and pride, employing a small number of people to restore and protect the ancient practice of ship restoration. These select individuals are guardians of a lost craft, dedicating their lives not just to old skills and techniques but to the boatyard itself.

What at first glance appeared to be a distant warehouse on the outskirts of a run-down town became a little hive of worker bees devoted to stories and knowledge that are specifically tied to that place: Lowestoft. Meandering through a maze of nets, timber, cogs, saws, hammers, stilts, masts, oars and other sailing apparatus illustrated an important fact that norfolkinsight.org struggles to encapsulate: that Lowestoft, despite its post-60s decline, is a vital container of histories that rely on a resilient and noble community to sustain them.

THE HIGH STREET

A HIVE OF ACTIVITY

Later that afternoon I made my way back down the path I had come and eventually reached the remarkably unremarkable Lowestoft High Street, which runs alongside the shoreline. Flanked by a Taco Bell and a Wetherspoons named 'The Joseph Conrad' (a.k.a. The Heart of Darkness) as you enter, the street unravels with a splendid array of fast-food chains, clothing stores and supermarkets.

The little indication of its proximity to the marvellous East Anglian coast manifested itself in carb-loaded seagulls whose low insulin levels provoked calculated attacks on greasy bins and, indeed, on me as I discreetly gulped down my sandwich for a late lunch.

Nevertheless, there was a good energy in the air as small groups gathered on various street-corners to chatter, and a local busker performed some of the finest renditions of Joy Division to a relatively impressive crowd, who listened cheerfully, basking in the sun.

THE OLD BANK

NIGEL'S STUDIO AND THE MESSUMS EAST PROJECT

Turning back on myself, I strolled down to the Old Bank, a vital component of the Messum's East creative project. I was welcomed by Katy and Tracy – the trusty engines behind Messum's Creative – and they led me up to Nigel's studio.

His humble desk, equipped solely with a laptop, a notebook and a keychain with five multicoloured memory sticks, doesn't faithfully reflect the extraordinary breadth of Nigel's artistic practice. The one adornment to his otherwise minimalist space was an OS map of Lowestoft, which he had unfolded and pinned to the wall above him. This important feature of his studio is a neat reminder of the relevance of 'place' in Nigel's work.

Nigel grew up not far down the coast in Sussex and has family in Yarmouth, so Lowestoft is a place of personal discovery for him. As Nigel walks and talks, he absorbs information, memories, sights, sounds, emotions and flavours that are specific to an environment – in this case, Lowestoft. I don't want to reduce him to one exceptionally advanced receptor, but his sensitivities to the world around him are fine-tuned to a degree that you or I might struggle to interpret.

Glancing back at the OS map of Lowestoft sparks my imagination as I tentatively wonder what Nigel's intersection of experience, place and materials will come to create. What is clear, however, is that during this residency Lowestoft will be not only a habitat and a community for Nigel but also a source of creative inspiration.