First installed in 1997, Lemn Sissay’s poem Flags stretches a little under a mile down Tib street – running from Market Street up toward Swan Street.
Originally part of the Tib Street art trail, created to draw people back into the Northern Quarter when it was in serious decline, Flags has long been a part of the area’s fabric.
Over the years, some of the poem’s stones have disappeared: leaving us to guess the missing letters and marvel at the way a simple act of feet treading the pavement has, over time, changed the meaning of the Chancellor of the University of Manchester’s words.
On his blog, academic Dr. Tony Shaw calls it “living poetry, uncertain poetry” – where “sometimes you have to kick aside cigarette ends to read more clearly, or wait for a momentarily parked car to move.”
And for the past 24 years, that’s exactly how it has been: A piece of urban poetry slowly eroding under our feet, the very meaning of the art changing as stones disappear, wear away or – as artist Tim Rushton notes – are taken home as souvenirs.
But now, the poem has had a serious glow-up.
In a bold move, the full work has been immortalised in a new ‘cast iron’ rendering – restored on Tib Street in full, with a new version of the poem written especially by Sissay for the occasion.
Supported by Manchester City Council, Bruntwood, and the Arts Council, Sissay was able to work once again with artist Rushton – who designed the original poem’s font back in 1997 – on the new installation.
Rushton had designed a special font called cypher for the piece back in the ’90s, which is used again on the new rendering.
“In the last couple of years it has become obvious that Lemn Sissay’s poem Flags on Tib Street has finally become past reasonable repair,” said Tim, reflecting on how the poem on the pavement has changed over the years.
“General wear and tear, scaffolding pole drops and souvenir hunting has rendered [the original poem] very patchy.”
Sissay’s poetry can be found across Manchester. In fact you’ve probably noticed one of his most famous, Rain, painted on a wall above Gemini takeaway near the Oxford Road university campus.
Now an internationally respected poet with work recognised across the globe, Sissay has come a long way from using his unemployment benefit to self-publish his first poetry pamphlet Perceptions of the Pen.
The official poet of the 2012 London Olympics and Chancellor of the University of Manchester since 2015, for this year’s Manchester International Festival Sissay has also co-curated an exhibition at HOME with Hans Ulrich Obrist.
On display until 30 August, it’s called Poet Slash Artist and is all about forging new links across cultures, continents, languages and generations – joining up poets and visual artists to connect words and images across gallery walls and city streets.
Just like the Tib Street poem, it’s not all found in the gallery: Rather, the new exhibit has spilled out onto the streets of Manchester: creating a new trail that runs from Deansgate to Whitworth Street West.
A full map of the locations for these new works of living art can be found here.
Flags by Lemn Sissay – the original poem (deciphered by Dr. Tony Shaw) versus the new edition:
The original 1997 poem:
These pavement cracks
are the places where
Poets pack their
warrior words
These pavement
cracks are the
places where
sleeping shadows
of moving
bridges stole
Where dying
dust of dreams
slides where
the slits silt
turns to food
Where home
truths trickle
home and confide
Where the silent
forests brood
Where spines bent?? the bridges
arches where they
vaulted with asice(?) to ? speak
And unity sown
on to the sun
of alll trades
perhaps they’re
a script words
of the street
Perhaps these pavement
cracks are the places
awhere flattened flags
lies solidified waves
The telling lines
within a sea of faces
where sufferers
take cover
of street caves
The telling lines
within a sea of faces
Where sufferers
take cover
of street caves
Where wander the
wayward and lost
Where the runaway
can chart his
journey back home
Where the water runs
as the world defrosts
The street breathes
beneath this stone
And perhaps the
pavement cracks are
the pattern of
concrete butterflies
Where thoughts
carefully
cultivated
waiting to
waken grow
wings and fly
Like us they hold
the people of a
modern earth
This world
between the
windswept flags
Where pavement
cracks are the
places where
sleeping shadows
of moving
bridges stole
The cold
The updated 2021 poem:
Pavement cracks
are the places
Where poets pack
warrior words
Verses to catch the
surfeit of faces
Where seeds slip
from bitter birds
Trip and fall
between the ledges
Where sweeping
silent rivers run
Hidden roughened
toughened edges
Where darkness
swallows the sun
Pavement cracks
are the places
Where shadows
of bridges roll
Where water falls
water races
Heat crouches
beneath the cold
The dust of the
city slides
And secret silent
worries wait
Home truths
trickle home
Cracks are the
lines of fate
These pavement
cracks are patterns
of concrete
butterflies
A perfectly
positioned parallax
Waiting to wake
grow wings and fly
And perhaps these
pavement cracks
Hold the
Manchester myriad———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
The cracks the cracks
the cracks!
The world between
the windswept flags
