 Thank you to the RLUK programme organisers for the opportunity to share some of my reflections and learnings about what neutral space might mean for us as academic and research librarians in times of transformation and change. The conference theme, our library's neutral spaces, is an opportunity to reflect on first what happens when library's neutral space is compromised through a series of intertwined events and circumstances, and two, what might the perfect cultural storm could it have been averted at the University of Cape Town? Perhaps more importantly, are there principles or wisdom that can be learned from such an environment? Previously I worked in the South African higher education sector for over 35 years at the University of South Africa, Rhodes University and more recently at UCT. In May 2018, with the opportunity of an international work experience, I took up the position as the director of scholarly services and university librarian at Melbourne. So why is UCT the focus of this presentation? This paper with its central theme of a perfect cultural storm is in many ways a story of a particular moment in time. It's based on lived experiences, social media, intellectual opinion pieces, observations, reflections and learnings from an environment as to how the covering of an artwork in the UCT libraries during the social activism campaigns across 2015 to 2018 compromise the principles of intellectual and artistic freedom. Over a period of four years, this precipitated into a perfect cultural storm that pitched the principle of the library's neutral space into crisis and set the university librarian on a collision course with the previous vice chancellor. To provide context, it might be useful to give a brief overview of the University of Cape Town. It was established in 1829 as a South African college and it was formally established as a university in 1918. So its outward image is one of a symmetrically pleasing campus designed against the backdrop of Devil's Peak, that's the tall peak in the background with magnificent mountain views. The centrepiece, which is its iconic graduation hall, has its parapet perfectly aligned with the peak. Ranked as the leading university on the continent, it symbolises African excellence and is a destination institution for international scholars and students. But it has a darker history and past that relates to the Shwtysgeir estate on which the current main campus was established in 1928. The land was taken from the first people, the Hoysan, who lived on the mountain slopes, by one Cecil John Rhodes, colonialist and arch-imperialist. A highly controversial figure, his Cape to Cairo vision was encapsulated in a statue, which you can see on the left, on a plinth located at a very central point on the campus, below the parapet of the iconic graduation hall. Gazing towards the horizon in a northerly direction, his view of Cape to Cairo was a vision to basically colonise the entire African continent. However, this iconic vista of the university was altered physically and symbolically as the road statue fell from its plinth in a highly publicised event in April 2015. The context in which the library at the University of Cape Town found itself pivoted centre in front to defend its right as neutral space came about as ever more intense calls for the transformation and decolonisation of higher education were made at a time of escalating student activism. Sweeping across all South African campuses between 2015 and into 2018. In the form of two bodies, the roads must fall, the RMF movement and the fees must fall campaigns. So why was 2015 a tipping point for the University of Cape Town? In post-democracy South Africa, the born free generation was at university and black student registration had reached its critical mass as well as finding their voice to call out the slow pace of transformation in the country. The quest for social justice gave momentum when political freedom did not translate into economic freedom and grinding poverty became the way of life for millions of South African citizens in one of the world's most inequitable societies. At the epicentre of the RMF movement was student activism directed at the institutional culture, which rather than creating a sense of belonging and inclusivity was driving formidable isolation and alienation for staff and students of colour. Student activism found its voice on South African university campuses in 2015, a students expressed their anger towards colonial legacy and classroom experience that was very real in the persistent use of symbols, icons, Eurocentric curricula, works of art and the naming of buildings. Student protests about feeling culturally unsafe and a sense of loss and sharing common experiences were met with indifference, silence and even derision by certain academic cohorts who believed that the standards were being compromised and the university's reputation for excellence was at risk. The first tipping point came suddenly in April 2015, when after decades, where students had objected to the presence of Cecil John Rhodes on the campus, the road statue fell from its plinth in a very highly publicised in the media in South Africa and globally across the world. The lack of transformation and the affordability of education for the majority of citizens became the focus of fees must fall, which was the second campaign that started up at the end of 2015 and also a tipping point. In late 2015, which resulted in national activism across the country with widespread shutdowns across every campus in South Africa, a government attempted bailout to subsidise 2016 fees with a temporary fix. At UCT, a student housing crisis where there were too many students arriving to take up university offers as a result of the government bailout and too few beds resulted in a situation where the shackle protest on the 16th of February in 2016 where 23 artworks labelled culturally offensive were publicly destroyed on the main campus. The vice chancellor's office was fire bombed, research vehicles were set alight and the libraries had to close under emergency conditions. The Oxford English Dictionary defines the concept of neutral as taking neither side in dispute or difference of opinion. All sounds very simple. In times of transformation and disruption, how do libraries ensure that they take neither side in dispute or difference of opinion? The sharp answer is they have codes and they have ethics, aligned with values and principles. I thought it would be useful to find out how the various LIS codes of ethics uphold principles of democratic society and whether the guidelines are sufficiently vigilant and robust in circumstances when complexity collides with those democratic principles that we hold so dear. I'm just going to touch on these very briefly but IFLA, for instance, has a framework which library associations can draw down on and use in their own countries. What is interesting, they identify as core responsibilities access to information and more importantly the only one that I could find that talks about neutrality, personal integrity and professional skills where they say neutrality results in the most balanced collection and most balanced access to information achievable. I will come back to this later on. The American Library Association is the oldest code with a clear purpose approved in 1939 at a time when the world order was under threat. They see it as a political system grounded in an information citizenry and are very clear about being committed to intellectual freedom and they have two clauses which really talk about taking a stand against censorship of library resources but also distinguishing between personal convictions and professional duties. In Australia it is also very clear, the code is very clear, core principles are first priority, free flow of information. Sylip, also very clear in terms of code of professional conduct, standards of behavior which are about protecting and ensuring free and equal access to sources of information but more importantly there's one that is about taking on the employer and this is one that for me was really important at a time when I later was challenged in terms of where, what stand do I take, where principles of free flow of information are at risk. What was interesting is in South Africa the Library and Information Association of South Africa, Liasa, which was established post democracy in 1997. South Africa's had a very long and turbulent history of political separation, apartheid, banning and censorship which suffocated, smothered and systematically eliminated intellectual freedom of association and autistic freedom of expression. Denying generations of South Africa the basic human right to access information and information resources. When I had a closer look at their code of ethics and conduct, especially for a country with such a deep and troubled past, I was quite surprised to find that their code of ethics and conduct bookends its ten guidelines by adherence first of all around rules and regulations which really does talk back to an earlier dispensation. And is number ten only the free flow of information and I will also come back to Liasa's role in being of assistance during this particular perfect cultural storm. So what does this mean for the profession and what does neutrality require in the context of an academic library? I would like to propose that neutral space is an intersection of three elements that when aligned demonstrate evidence of high levels of harmony and particularly tolerance. Culture creates a sense of belonging and culturally safe space. There are value systems which embrace tolerance for difference and or other. Respect, dignity, harmony, commitment to truth and principle. Also when you have a neutral space you have democratic principles which promote freedom of expression, freedom to access information, freedom of association, artist's moral rights or freedom of artistic expression. Academic libraries aspire to be neutral spaces and within the framework of ethics and codes this should be a given. But what happens when an activity or an event or an object is inserted into neutral space with sufficient force to precipitate levels of cultural complexity that collide with the value systems underpinning them. Where something jars different groups of people in different ways to create contested and culturally unsafe spaces. What happens when circumstances challenge Eiffler's aspiration for the most balanced collection and most balanced access to information achievable. At UCT, how did a work of art, a metal sculpture of Sarah Bartman precipitate a culturally unsafe space and crisis that persisted over four years. We're not talking about a short term event. This was something that ran from 2015 into early 2018. Charlotte Day, the director of the Museum of Art at Monash University in Australia makes an aspirational observation about the space. About the place of artwork stating that public art can be many things both playful and placemaking but also provocative and disruptive. But in the end its publicness is its great strength. By contrast, Vasu Redi from the University of Pretoria explains that art and objects of tangible heritage are never islands on their own and talks about cultural cues that are shaped by contemporary experiences such as the socio-political student movement shaped by issues of the time classroom experience. Intolerance and slow pace of transformation. These are the disruptors that drive cultural complexity in spaces. So what was the disruption that asserted itself into neutral spaces? Among the calls for rapid transformation, the RMF turned a sharp lens on collective artworks on display in the libraries. So I want to talk about how the cultural vortex was unleashed when you believe that only your truth matters. This is about two intertwined lives of two South Africans. Sarah Bartman as a woman and as artwork. And Willie Bester an activist and an artist. Sarah Bartman was a hoysan woman who was sold into slavery and taken to England in 1810 by her employer and an English doctor who worked at the Cape Slave Lodge. She was exhibited as a curiosity on the stages in England and Ireland as a sexual freak. Sarah died in poverty in Paris in 1815 and parts of her body were dissected and plaster casts were made of her brain, skeleton and genitalia. They were displayed at the French Museum of Man until the 1970s when after numerous protests and deputations from South Africans they were removed from display. In 2002 after intervention by a French politician and former President Nelson Mandela, Sarah Bartman's humiliation ended with the restitution of her remains to South Africa. The Sarah Bartman sculpture was created by Willie Bester and acquired by the UCT works of art committee in 2001. It was controversial from the very beginning. The Black Academic Caucus at the University of Cape Town described the sculpture of Sarah Bartman as made from steel objects welded together depicting Sarah with chains at her feet as a life-size mechanical machine like figure. The decision was made to curate it as a work of art in a visible and prominent place in the main library on the central campus. In 2018 Professor Sandra Klopper interviewed Willie Bester, the artist and creator of the sculpture, who shared some stark and poignant reminders about the long memory of black pain and trauma in South Africa. On his heritage Bester comments, most people assume I'm a white male afrikaner and my work must be deliberately racist. This sculpture is a product of my own history growing up in a mixed-graced family. I witnessed first-hand the indignities of what my migrant cause-of-speaking father was subjected to. I have vivid memories of the humiliation that both my parents suffered. We weren't regarded as human. I was made to feel bad about how I look and who I am. I'm just like my sculpture of Sarkie Bartman who, despite her exploitation, is not ashamed of herself of who she is or what she wears. Among the rapid calls for rapid transformation, RMF turned a sharp lens on collective artworks on display in the university and, in particular, the Sarah Bartman sculpture, which was in the library. It was covered with cloth on three occasions. The student representative council requested that it remain covered for the duration of the student activism campaign. Following criticism across 2015 for the covered artwork, the university librarian got approval from the registrar on December 2015 to remove the cloths from the sculpture. At the same time, the university council appointed an artworks task team to investigate and make recommendations about the institution's artworks symbols, icons and building names, with a view to enhancing transformation and inclusivity. The artworks task team was separate from the senate works of art committee. In hindsight, it would seem the existence of these two dual structures set it up for failure from the beginning. The period 2015 to 2017 was marked by dissension and a disagreement between these two committee structures. The artworks task team found itself embroiled in very fast changing and volatile situations on the ground. With the result, the final report which they put out was dogged by delays and protracted and implementation. Following the shackle protest of the 16th of February, when 23 artworks were burned, publicly destroyed, the works of art committee took a decision to remove 70 artworks from various places across the campus, but failed to communicate publicly whether the removals were one for safekeeping, which they claimed later, or part of a transformation agenda. The communication void around removing 70 artworks and the covered artwork in the library caused an outcry and widespread speculation that the removal of artworks amounted to censorship. The emotionally charged backlash in the media condemned the university for condoning censorship of artworks and sacrificing freedom of expression to please selected student cohorts. Events continued to evolve very fast on the ground. With the campus shut down and the closing of the libraries across many campuses and particularly at UCT, the libraries became very vulnerable to occupation, arson attacks, flooding, disruption and even risk to occupational health and safety compliance. In April 2016, at very short notice, the library management became aware that the roads must fall movement was planning a commemorative walk which was to celebrate the fall of the road statue the previous year, with a series of stations that were aligned and underpinned by socio-political dynamics. The stations that they were going to stop along the commemorative walk were the Marocana Memorial, the Plinth and the Sarah Bartman in the main library, which was to be draped in cloth, and then the RMF photographic exhibition at the centre for the African Studies Gallery. All of these were separated probably about by three, four, five hundred metres at the different stations. The risk to occupational health and safety compliance was high on the agenda when the chair of the works of art committee, RMF representatives and the university librarian met to negotiate the station ceremony because this was going to be in the library and there was the risk of probably eight to eight hundred to a thousand people coming into the library to be part of the ceremony of re-clothing the statue. Cultural complexity and differences were very real and central in the engagement about the ceremony that the RMF movement wanted. It was agreed that a collective of black women students through a public ceremony would clothe the sculpture with a kangor and a headwrap to give Sarah dignity. A commitment was given by the works of art committee chair that workshops together with Willie Best of the artist would follow almost immediately. This never happened. And the RMF photographic exhibition in the centre for African Studies Gallery was vandalised and shut down before it even opened. So following the ceremony in the library, the commemorative march moved on to the next point which was the exhibition and that was basically shut down before it even started. So we were probably quite fortunate in the library that we didn't have a similar situation. Attempts to connect with the executive of the university, the works of art committee or the artworks task team were met with silence and indifference. The university librarian's position was perceived as tolerating and condoning the censorship of artwork. The national body, Liasa, maintained a deafening silence throughout this impasse. In October 2017, the registrar once again confirmed the executive stance that it wanted the cloth, coverings, robes. I'll come back to this. There was every nuance definition of what it was that was the interference with the artwork. But the coverings were to remain in place as the newly constituted works of art committee would be arranging workshops and seminars around the Sarah Bartman sculpture as a very high priority. The library was no longer a neutral space and the university librarian position was compromised by the executive, the works of art committee and high levels of intolerance and contestation. And there was no space to find middle ground for engagement. It seemed that only my truth prevailed. Vili Bester said, I urge the university to consider removing the cloak from the sculpture. Not only because to cover Bartman is to deny what happened to her, but also because she is not actually naked. By contrast, the black academic caucus did perceive the Sarah Bartman sculpture as depicting a semi-clad naked black woman. And we're firming this stance that it is not just a sculpture, it is not just a piece of cloth, it is centuries of trauma. Their narratives spoke deeply and passionately to issues of social justice, black pain, class and elitism, classroom experience and a culturally unsafe campus. David Goldblatt, a highly acclaimed South African photographer in interviews was clear about his standpoint that inner democracy differences are discussed. In March 2017, Goldblatt chose to remove his photographic archive of prints and negatives from UCT to Yale University with the following statement in defence of the freedom of expression, artistic rights and rights of artists when he said, UCT is no longer upholding and defending the rights of the artist. The storm came to a head in the second half of 2017 as the media narratives continued to rage. The artworks task team completed what they called a confidential report, I still don't know to this day why they did that, with recommendations and submitted it to the council meeting for approval in the March of 2017. The recommendations were tamed compared to the swirling and volatile environment in which we were operating at that time. One of their findings was that the artwork's statues and plaques are dominated by white people, in particular white males. Well, I mean you didn't have to go far to figure that one out. Artworks are products of scholarly and intellectual engagement and must not be censored but seen as an educational resource. Why put this under a banner of confidentiality? And the works of art committee should lead a consultative process around contested artworks through debate and discussion of specific artworks and consider an art gallery for exhibiting artworks and having debates around all forms of art which they call problematic and non-problematic, which already is a narrative that you wouldn't expect to find in a report of this kind. The woeik was also to be reconstituted with new terms of reference. The reconstitution of the woeik appeared to be beset by paralysis and the university did not make the artwork task team report publicly available for almost six months. The media storm continued around us as the executive remained silent and indifferent. And in the latter part of 2017 a library staff member issued the university with two pay orders, which is the public access to information act with which they were then made to comply. They had to release the list of the 70 artworks that had been removed by the works of art committee to safe keeping storage in the March of 2016 and the council artworks task team report with its recommendations. So both those documents then came out into the public. On the last day of closing in December 2017 at around 7am in the morning the Sarah Bartman sculpture was uncovered and the cloths were removed. It's important to recognise that this was a highly volatile situation for this to have been done under cover was not helping the situation at all. It was later established that the same staff member who had issued the pay orders was responsible. This was picked up on surveillance camera. So after the university executive was informed about the undercover uncovering of the artwork which was the role of the university librarian. Vice Chancellor wrote to the university librarian on the 20th of January with an instruction to arrange for the robe or the covers to be put back on the sculpture and if necessary to arrange for campus security. I mean again bringing in security in this type of situation a culturally unsafe environment. The action of uncovering interferes with the process of planned conversations over the display of artworks on campus which at the time we had been waiting so long for the works of art committee and the artworks task team to get the conversations going to get people around the table so that they could start to find one another in this very culturally unsafe environment. And so on the 24th of January 2018 the university librarian responded to the vice chancellor setting out a position in terms of upholding the commitment to professional ethical obligations and the duty to protect and steward the collections and artworks in the UCT libraries. The letter called on the vice chancellor to uphold the value statement of UCT and implored him as a matter of urgency to get the works of art committee to engage and communicate with the campus community. The university librarian also requested that UCT issue a press statement to make a standpoint known that the university librarian would not engage in an act of censorship and that there now were mechanisms in place to address the issue of artwork in the UCT libraries. The VC refused to release the letter as part of a public statement by the university on its position about censorship of artwork. In March following the January when the university librarian I met with the vice chancellor and I challenged him about releasing the letter into the public domain with the university endorsement. The university librarian was informed that he viewed the standpoint as insubordinate for refusing to follow an instruction and was intending to institute disciplinary charges against the university librarian. The response from my side was three fold. I indicated it was his prerogative to follow whatever course of action he felt was appropriate. The university librarian would however call upon the library and information services sector to invoke codes of ethics in particular the IFLA clause to defend libraries as neutral space. Until the VC instruction was issued which was a deliberate act of executive censorship contrasted with cultural ceremony in my view. The class were the epicenter of the cultural complexity. The instruction was the crossover point from cultural complexity to censorship by an executive authority. A week later a cut and paste email was received from the vice chancellor in which he suggested but not explicitly that the consultase of process which had never started could continue with the Sarah Bartman sculpture in its uncovered state. Presumably the subtext was that he was not going to pursue disciplinary action. I pointed out that in disciplinary if it's insubordination of refusal to carry out an instruction it's usually a reasonable instruction and I didn't view it as reasonable. In March of 2018 three years after the first covering of the sculpture the works of art committee finally held the first public debate this was from 2015 about the Sarah Bartman sculpture with Willie Bester as part of the panel defending the artist's moral rights. He called out censorship of artwork at UCT and sought a solution for the collective the 70 artworks and not just the sculpture of Sarah Bartman. He spoke passionately to the need that we have to share the space and not come and dominate it as in the past. I'm not going to stand for that he said and I'm not going to be at peace as long as other things are boarded up. During the human rights week in fact quite ironically today is human rights day in South Africa. So during human rights week in March of 2018 a collective of black women students and the black academic caucus clothed the Sarah Bartman for the third time and a powerful statement was installed at the feet of the artwork. The statement entitled the place of Sarah Bartman at UCT was supported by quotes appended to the cloth. Collision of cultural complexity with value systems underpinning them was evident as the media and social media mired in only my truth discourse. It was backwards and forwards whether the statue or the sculpture was clothed or covered up with cloth. Whether the covers or whether it was a cover up by the university. Whether it was a covering or whether it was censoring. Whether it was undercover or uncovering. Whether robing or derobing. The removal of covers we were told in some media reports was not disrobing. Only a person can be disrobed and the sculpture is not a person. Was Sarah Bartman a symbol of trauma or was it merely an object of art. The answer was silent throughout this impasse. As you can see some of the language was very strong in the media. We listened yesterday to what social media, the frenzy of social media, what it's doing to society. But when you get things like censorship by the mob or students being called mobs you're only fueling a narrative and you're not making a situation any better. But people saw it as social justice activism that allows those most truly imposed the politics of victimhood on our society to become self-appointed centres of art. You have to ask yourself was Sarah Bartman a victimhood? The black academic caucus called out the conservative corner at UCT for insisting on the pathological obsession with naked black bodies in visual culture. And asked the question why would a white man want to see the need to de-robe a sculpture in order to expose a naked Sarah Bartman yet again. In response to what the BAC views were as persistent and sadistic frenzy of 19th century scientific racism that persists through the Sarah Bartman story of her life. They make the poignant point that so ingrained has this incessant disgrace become that being an accomplice in the pathological scrutiny of her body is regarded as civil. The state in the media and it went on into 2018. So what happened subsequently? In August of 2018 four months after leaving University of Cape Town the opposition Shadow Minister for Education in South Africa wrote an email demanding to know what the University Librarian had done about the censored artwork as the previous Vice Chancellor now retired had not responded to emails that were written eight months earlier. On the 9th of August, Women's Day in South Africa, the former University Librarian wrote to the new Vice Chancellor and copied the Vice President of Liasa outlining the University Librarian's letter which had never been released into the press because the Vice Chancellor refused to do it and the perceived silence of Liasa. On the 17th of August after three years Liasa finally issued a statement claiming its support for freedom of expression and noted. The debate around the sculpture of Sarah Bartman, while Liasa supports UCT's endeavours to allow all voices to be heard on this matter, it calls on the University to oppose censorship and nurture creative expression as a form of intellectual freedom and that was as much as they had to say around all of this. And again if you think about the pain and the trauma of South Africa's history I think it could have been better. However after writing to the Vice Chancellor in rapid succession two interventions came out. I think they had been in the pipeline but this really started to just I think the works of art committee were told to get a move on. So they then announced that there would be an exhibition Sarah Bartman a call to respond and then also an executive announcement renaming the graduation hall, their great iconic hall in the centre of the campus as the Sarah Bartman hall. The exhibition was to be held on a campus about 10 kilometres from the main campus September to October last year. The sculpture was moved from its position in the main library and it was exhibited no longer covered in cloth. But it was surrounded by images of the work when it was robed together with other artworks that foregrounded the continual vulnerabilities around black women. The sculpture was exhibited with the sound installation featuring the poem by Diana Ferris. The sculpture has not been returned to the main library and there's no word as to whether it will. I have my doubts. The hall in December 2018 the university announced that its iconic graduation hall would be named in honour of Sarah Bartman. The question comes to mind is why the council statement around the hall made no mention of the Sarah Bartman sculpture or which had been described by the works of art committee as the most important work of art in the collection right now as it has sparked so much response from diverse quarters. And as Carla Lever says, these potent contestations that I've described to you are entirely absent from the university's announcement about the name change. There's no mention of the statue, no mention of the countless protests, debates and performance interventions. It's hard to know what rationale lies behind transporting the seminal sculpture to a safe campus when the Sarah Bartman hall was the obvious space in which to restore her honour dignity and provide all staff and students the opportunity to engage and debate her legacy. It's interesting yesterday that the university released after the burning of the artworks in March of 2016 they instituted an institutional truth and reconciliation commission which released its report yesterday. I think it's going to open up a lot of raw wounds. It's on the UCT website and makes a very interesting reading which sets out a lot of the context in which this was happening. So in a recent opinion piece written by an Aboriginal Australian Stan Grant in the weekend Australian at the time of Australia Day it resonated very strongly with me. The 29th of January marks the arrival of Captain Cook on Australian soil. In recent years the glory has been challenged by robust debate around the trauma, invasion and colonisation of the first people. Grant writes about the long memory of wounds making the point that they are real not imagined and that for so many the legacy of this country's history hangs like a dead weight. Well poignantly and with echoes of the lives of Willie Best and Sarah Bartman in my mind, Grant asks the hard question of himself. Can I put aside the memory of wounds that have been passed down in story from one generation of my family to the next? More difficulty suggests that if harmony and tolerance are to find their space there's a big test of forgetting that requires us to balance the desire for justice and the desire for peace. In a powerful statement he writes, and on this Australia Day I can give thanks and I can remember and I can try to forget to put aside resentment while never losing sight of the sad truth and those that suffer the most in our country are those whose lives are tied up to that of the first injustice. And I think that has resonance for South Africa as well. In writing this paper it left me asking myself whether I feel the spirit of Sarah Bartman is at peace and hanky in the district of Sarah Bartman deep in the remote hills of the eastern Cape. The headstone at a desolate graveside has an uncanny likeness, if you look at it now, to the sculpture in the Ritchie Gallery on a safe campus disconnected from the Sarah Bartman Hall, an institutional memory of the university. You have to ask yourself, is she really at peace? And the last word is that attributed to Diana Ferris, a critically acclaimed South African poet who wrote a poem in 1998 for Sarah Bartman, I've Come to Take You Home. It inspired a leading French politician to initiate and later support former President Nelson Mandela's 2002 campaign to repatriate Sarah Bartman's remains to her home in Hanky in the Eastern Cape. After more than 200 years of trauma, humiliation, exploitation and suffering. I'd hope to do a sound clip of Diana reciting her poem but we couldn't get it to work so unfortunately I have to be the substitute. I've come to take you home, remember the felt, the lush green grass beneath the big oak trees, the air is cool there and the sun does not burn. I have made your bed at the foot of the hill, your blankets are covered in boohoo and mint. The proteas stand in yellow and white and the water in the stream chuckles singsongs as it hobbles along the little stones. I have come to wrench you away from the poking eyes of the man-made monster who lives in the dark and his clutches of imperialism who dissects your body bit by bit, who likens your soul to that of Satan and declares himself the ultimate God. I have come to soothe your heavy heart. I offer my bosom to your weary soul. I will cover your face with the palms of my hands. I will run my lips over lines in your neck. I will feast my eyes on the beauty of you and I will sing for you for I have come to bring you peace. I have come to take you home where the ancient mountains shat your name. I have made your bed at the foot of the hill, your blankets are covered in boohoo and mint. The proteas stand in yellow and white. I have come to take you home where I will sing for you for you have brought me peace. I would also just like to acknowledge my colleague for the beautiful slide presentation and the visuals which she contributed. And then on reflections I have put those in the abstract. I perhaps haven't answered the questions. I thought that might be part of the conversation and I see there is a long table later. And also I just wondered about Charlotte Day's assertion. Is public art's strength, its publicness's great strength? I wonder if I have reflected on that. Thank you.