I found the above information on my regular news searches online via the Grimsby Telegraph. I wonder who will move into the vacated buildings? How will this effect The Europarc? I’ve noticed that a lot of their staff are frequent users of my favorite onsite cafe Fresco.
Hopefully the new lease holders will continue to frequent the establishment?
I’ve just relayed this information to my cat. She looks pretty un-moved to be honest…
A comment on The Grimsby Telegraph site from user ‘Sunnysmile’:
This move does not surprise myself in the least. More of the same, smoke and mirrors to cover the failings to attract private investment and business to Grimsby. So we will move from Genesis Park located on the Europarc and instead relocate to central Grimsby. I wonder who thought this through and especially the parking implications for all the staff that now have to try and find parking.
In my official role of Europarc Brexecutive, I will occupy The Republic of Brexitopia from 1pm – 7pm at the Espacio Gallery, on Saturday the 9th of September, Bethnal Green Road and will commence the nullification of all EU laws that are currently applicable in the Europarc State.
Europarc Referendum Question: When we leave the EU, does Europarc need to change it’s name? Yes or no?
If yes the new name should be?
Current online score: Keep name 3 Change name 0.
The Republic of Brexitopia
1-7pm everyday (Closed Monday)
159 Bethnal Green Road,
London E2 7DG
The Republic of Brexitopia is an imaginary country of the near future. Degrees of Freedom have invited an international group of artists to explore the forms that such a country might take and the forces that might shape it.
Using a mix of participative, performative and provocative strategies the participating artists address not just Brexitopia’s political and economic trajectory, but also the relationship between its citizens, the lure of exceptionalism, and the narrow line between optimism and delusion, utopia and dystopia.
The tone of the artworks varies from the passionate to cool observation, from the committed to wry humour. Some responses are based on personal experience of the artists – a shaken sense of belonging and the feeling of being turned into “the other”. Other responses test the boundaries of patriotism, truth and historical remembrance.
The participative nature of many of the works invites the visitor to reflect on the idea of human agency. They suggest that we don’t have to resign ourselves to the inevitability of this or that future, but that we can choose to be active agents in shaping the future we desire.
Participating artists: Roan Allen , Roelof Bakker, Jenni Bea, Ben Bird, Lizzie Brown, Andy Caruso, Emer Costello, David Dunnico, Ahmed Farooqui, Jake Francis, Livia Garcia, Esperanza Gomez Carrera, Jacqui Grant, Tom Hackett, Christina Lovey, Liana Bortolozzo, Andy Metcalf, Billie Penfold, Marta Pieregonczuk, Laurence Rassat, Marc Renshaw, Louise Scillitoe-Brown, Chia-An Yang.
I wrote the text (in bold) below on Monday after travelling home from Leeds and posted it up on social media.
The rain was pouring down as I progressed slowly along the M62/A18. I could feel the irritation of the Audi drivers as I travelled at 50 mph. I can’t understand how some people can drive into such heavy rain without flying across the carriageway.
I needed an excuse to pull over…on a Tuesday afternoon when I’m usually at work…I needed another excuse to be nowhere, even though it would always, always, always be underwhelming…but I can still dream.
I was also thinking about how I invented a narrative that my alter ego X has floated from The Europarc Business Park at the end of April and became stranded at The Doncaster Services. I took a load of poor quality photo’s with my camera.
How does one search for something that is a story? An invention? I guess I’m looking for possibilities. Perhaps like the time when I went to Douglas Borough Cemetery and sat in a shelter in the rain, in the hope of hearing the voice of my nan or being given some sort of sign.
I think it was in 1992 (she passed away in 1986).
After arriving home, I scanned through all the images in the hope of finding X. Perhaps a blur at the edge of the image, a bit of rust on a bin, a bird? A CCTV camera? A feeling lingering over the lake at the back of the Travelodge? I don’t know.
I’m still waiting at the M180 services in search my almost alter ego. The clock still has invisible hands…A vague smell of tobacco wafts past me…Gregg’s…. Travelodge…4 lads outside Burger King keeping up pretences…Bloke with regulation hipsteure beard plugs in white earplugs…Credit card 3.87…a gentle melancholia
…Sip tea…Rain…Cough… Costa frostino…Lucky coin…This isn’t 1985 or 1992 or…1996… Cheering from the TV screen… Wimbledon…venus…Tweed jacket guy…Beeping…etc