One sunny afternoon a few years ago, I decided, quite spontaneously, that I needed a sea fix.
I headed for Brighton on an early morning train and commenced my seaside walk towards Worthing.
That was the plan. No shops, no retail therapy, not even window shopping I said to myself! Just the fresh sea air. How I yearned for the scent of seaweed and salt and hearing the sea’s orchestra of sounds rising into a crescendo as the waves came crashing in. For me this was heaven, the commencement of an adventure of discovery and meditation in motion.
I had not explored Shoreham before, so I decided to have a mooch around after a cup of tea by the River Adur, observing the beautiful yachts and boats. Wonderful. Then I got distracted by a tiny charity shop: the urge to have a good rummage was hard to resist.
My curiosity was piqued by the sight of some beautifully and exquisitely crafted model ships of the Cutty Sark and the Mayflower. I have always loved ships, the river and all things nautical, and now a secret guilty pleasure of ship models was being revealed before my very eyes!
A gentleman came into the shop, and we started chatting about these ships. He explained that he had retired from his nautical-related job, and promptly bought the Cutty Sark model. I recall him saying that he couldn’t wait to get stuck in to completely refurbish and rebuild it. His expression was one of pure joy. Another Elder came in and we had a similar conversation. He had also been engaged in nautical work, and bought the Mayflower!
Then I noticed an abandoned model very much in need of love and attention, with dirty old sails that had almost disintegrated. It was also nameless…
I was reliably informed by the manager of the shop that to change the name on an existing ship was bad luck. I kept picking it up and putting it back down again and asking myself what on Earth was I doing! Eventually I decided that I would buy it and rebuild it in some way.
For some reason I felt so deliriously happy – and in hindsight I think she did too! Even as I write I am smiling in reminiscence.
On my return to London, ship model in tow, I was still in disbelief that I had made such a spontaneous purchase. Now I know that it was meant to be! Over the next few months, I started the rebuilding process. I created patterns for new sails, then began to put together various objects that related to me in some way. It was a very intuitive and organic process; I literally went with the flow.
Then I thought of a name for her: Timehri. This was the perfect name for her, with a direct link to a part of my ancestral heritage and identity.
‘The act of painting, the act of daring to make art, the Arawak had a word for it and they called it Timehri […] Now, Timehri for the Arawak means the "Mark of the Hand of Man". That is the word for art for me’
Aubrey Williams, Artist (8 May 1926 – 17 April 1990)
A walk by the river
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On completion I decided to take Timehri for a walk along one of my favourite parts of the River Thames down to ‘My Thames Beach!’ (London Folly, Isle of Dogs) and photographed her on the foreshore.
Over the subsequent months we continued to explore familiar and new parts of the river together. I met and conversed with a diverse range of people, from developers to former sailors.
One afternoon I was out on a river walk from Trinity Buoy Wharf heading towards Island Gardens. The weather was glorious and peaceful. I was fully immersed in a multisensorial experience of sunlight and the sounds of the tide.
I did not encounter another soul for a fair distance, until I noticed a man with a camera pointing towards Enderby Wharf. Being curious by nature, I enquired what he was up to! We got talking and shared our river-related experiences and stories with much fervour and enthusiasm for a few solid hours. Mudlarkers along the foreshore walked by and waved their hellos.
The man was Paul Wyatt, a filmmaker. He asked me if I would like to contribute to his film, and of course I said yes! I also introduced him to Timehri and she also featured in the film. Her status precedes mine by a long chalk!
The rest is history, and we are still having those conversations today. Paul Wyatt’s documentary film, Time and Tide: The Thames, Greenwich and its forgotten past, was launched at the National Maritime Museum in 2022. In a private screening prior to the official launch, the Museum took note and reached out to me. Timehri and I were invited, and now a new journey has commenced: a collaborative Creative Fellowship of self-led research with social engagement. If you want to know where the research led me, click here.
I want to acknowledge and extend a heartfelt thank you with huge gratitude to everyone I have encountered on this journey so far at Royal Museums Greenwich and beyond! Thank you to the Curatorial, Engagement and Visitor services teams in Greenwich, Chatham, Kidbrooke and Woolwich for enabling this opportunity to access the collections. It was and continues to be an absolute privilege. Thank you all for your generosity and for taking the time to share your knowledge through ongoing conversations and tours of the sites. May this creative conversation continue to grow from strength to strength as part of my journey, but also inspire more intrepid, creative and curious explorers in the future.
Follow Remiiya Badru's artistic journey
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Main image: Remiiya Badru featuring in Time and Tide: The Thames, Greenwich and its forgotten past, © Paul Wyatt