There is an area of parkland behind the Upperthorpe library called Philadelphia Greenspace; here the trees and bushes act as a shield from the adjacent Penistone Road. It is a place where you can hear the wind in the leaves, song birds calling, where you can hold a conversation in spacious surroundings. But it hasn’t always been this way.

If you were to have walked along this stretch of Penistone Road between 1967 and 1993, your experience would have been altogether different. To one side of you would be a monstrous block of flats, much like Park Hill above the Sheffield railway station. These were the Kelvin flats, which formed part of a housing solution during the slum clearances of the late sixties. The program of clearance, demolition and resettlement swept across the upper Don Valley, from the Parkwood estate up into parts of Walkley. You can find more information on the Walkley slum clearances from the Walkley History Project's website, which you can find here.

The architectural style of Kelvin Flats was unflinchingly modernist. The building was so abstract that, compared to its surroundings, it could have been brought in from outer space. And while this stretch of the Don Valley has a heritage of large stand-alone buildings (the Infirmary, Hillsborough Barracks, the Hillsborough Library building), the Kelvin Flats were unprecedented in their visual brutality.

When communities were first re-housed into the flats, the response was surprisingly favourable. Residents who had lived in old terraced housing now lived in new clean properties which were easy to heat and had mod-cons such as inside toilets. Yet the benefits associated with Kelvin soon became overshadowed; with antisocial behaviour rising and a lack of general maintenance and upkeep, the flats were demolished in 1993 - only twenty-six years after they were built.

Diane Leek, a former Lord Mayor of Sheffield, was once a Kelvin resident. Diane was kind enough to agree to meet me, for which I am very grateful. The meeting took place in the conservatory of the Hillsborough Hotel, a stone's throw from the Philadelphia Greenspace. We sat in view of Parkwood Springs, beside a large contemporary building that until recently had housed Mecca Bingo. Had Kelvin Flats still been standing, we would have been sitting in their shadow.

Diane talked about her experience of Kelvin Flats, along with other histories of the upper Don Valley. She was not only incredibly knowledgeable, but also a well known and friendly face in the area, greeting a number of passers by in the short time that I spent with her.

You can listen to some of Diane's reflections on Kelvin Flats and the Upper Don Valley here:

So you may be coming along to our artswalk at Parkwood Springs tomorrow, or perhaps you're just curious about this little-known part of Sheffield and would like to know a little more. Being born and bred in Sheffield, and as a natural explorer, I can say with confidence that Parkwood Springs is one of the most interesting and varied spaces that the city has to offer. It has a chequered and controversial history, previously being a deer park, but now known primarily as a landfill site. Its use as a tip seems to have begun during the industrial revolution, when waste from local metalworks found a convenient home within its open space. Since then, the horizon of Parkwood Springs has altered dramatically – it has grown a new ‘ridge’ where there once was a valley. Thankfully, following advocacy and campaigning, tipping will cease on the site in 2018, with public access being granted by 2020. You may want to check out the excellent work of the dedicated friends of Parkwood Springs group here. Despite all this industrial activity, Parkwood Springs is actually an unsung wildlife haven, an unofficial nature reserve. It recalls spaces either forgotten, overlooked or inaccessible, such as the edges of motorways, railways, and riverbanks, where nature reigns unchecked by humankind. Access to some of its areas is improbable, as it presents numerous obstacles and dead-ends, keeping out most would-be adventurers.

 

Despite my trepidation due to the isolation and mystique surrounding the place, I have made a number of successful forays into Parkwood Springs. Speaking to whoever I bumped into, I have been incredibly fortunate to talk with a variety of characters who just happened to be out on the hill.

The first person I met on the site was a security guard who works in the power station behind Owlerton Stadium. I was at the top of the ruined Ski Village when I met him, watching two scavengers salvaging wood from the remains of one of the burnt out structures at the bottom of the slope. This man told me he was walking to work, forging a shortcut across the hill, and he asked if I knew the way. I said I didn’t, but we looked at my crumpled map, a print out on a scrap piece of A4, and I made a suggestion that he followed. Afterwards I realised I’d sent him the wrong way, though I wasn’t to know then, being new to the area. Hopefully he was still able to clock in on time.

The second person I met was a woman with a camera, walking around what is called the ‘forest garden’, a community project where food is grown and fruit trees have been planted. She said her name was Fran, that she was doing a PhD in landscape architecture at Sheffield University, and is working to re-imagine the future of Parkwood Springs. It also turns out that she’s an author and award winning landscape photographer – if you’re interested you can see her work here. It’s not without reason that Parkwood Springs has attracted someone with an eye so finely tuned to the aesthetics of the landscape.

The third person I met was a local man called Roy. I had cycled round the back of the tip, and was following my nose, beginning to descend down an access lane, when I slowed down for someone coming the other way. Ray had silver hair, three dogs, and a walking stick with various bangles and badges hanging from the handle. He walked slowly and steadily. I asked him if I could get through to the valley by going down the path, and he said there was a way, if I was happy to cross over the railway line, but it might be tricky with a bike.

We turned and walked back up the hill together, and I asked him about the area. He told me he had lived locally all his life, that he has a number of children and even more grandchildren. He comes out to walk his dogs as often as possible, and described himself as an outdoors man. He was wearing tracksuit trousers, a polo neck t-shirt, and had a set of strikingly white teeth.

Being a shy sort, working on a project like this provides a wonderful excuse to talk to people, and so I plucked up the courage to ask him if he’d like to meet again to talk about his memories of the area. He said yes, but that he didn’t know his phone number as he only ever rings out, that he doesn’t have a mobile and isn’t on the internet. He said if I wanted to meet him again I would find him here most days, walking his dogs through the forgotten wilderness of Parkwood Springs beneath expansive urban skies. Well, he didn’t exactly use those words, but that is exactly what he does.

 

A few weeks later, after going on an excellent tour of Parkwood Springs led by the knowledgable and dedicated Neill Schofield of the ‘Friends Of’ group, I was put in touch with a man called Ray Swift, who actually used to live on the Parkwood Springs estate. Ray invited me to his house on Shirecliffe, where we sat down for two hours and he reminisced about his memories. He grew up in Parkwood Springs ‘village’, partly situated where the remains of the Ski Village stand today, hemmed in by nature and mega-industry. An audio recording of his amazing and unique stories will be uploaded onto this blog in the coming weeks.

 

And so, with all this talk of forgotten spaces I have neglected to mention Wardsend Cemetery, which I explored before I even set foot onto Parkwood Springs ‘proper’. After doing a web search, I contacted the Friends of Wardsend Cemetery, and received a swift and welcoming response from a man called George Proctor. You can find out more about the fantastic job the Friends of Wardsend Cemetery are doing here.

 

George Proctor and Pete Quincey were kind enough to give me an impromptu guided tour, during which they spoke at length of the stories behind the gravestones. The cemetery is quite a sight to behold – tumbled and leaning stones nestled in maturing woodland, ferns and brambles everywhere, paths overgrown and lost within the green. The main access to the cemetery is over a bridge behind the Owlerton Stadium, where a set of stairs by an isolated scrapyard forms the present day threshold. The old entrance is just down the muddy track known as Club Mill Road, where you can trace the route that coffins would have been carried along to the site of the old chapel, the foundations of which are the only sign left that it ever existed.

These meetings and forays have helped me to understand what Parkwood Springs really is, yet this is only the beginning of the research. In the coming weeks, we will be uploading more photographs, video, and audio interviews that will help to reveal the space in even more detail. And there is a chance for you to play a part in this, through the artswalk this coming Saturday. I do hope you can make it, discover the space for yourself and play a part in the present and future of this remarkable city centre resource. You might even have fun at the same time too!

Have you ever spent time in Parkwood Springs? Do you have a memory or connection with the place? If you do, we’d be delighted to hear from you! Please leave a comment below, contact markdoyle1500@gmail.com, or call the Art in the Park office on (0114) 2686813.

This blog has been established to chart the progress of Art in the Park’s ‘Unregistered’ project. The project’s aim is to uncover and interpret the hidden history some of Sheffield’s lesser known, or unregistered, spaces. It will celebrate these spaces through the individuals who are connected to them as they were, as they are, and as they may become; it will engage the wider community through creative workshops, artswalks, and a celebration. Over the coming months, we will be updating this blog regularly, with images old and new, stories, audio interviews and video, so watch this space! The project is inspired by the work of Simon Gedye and the late Keith Hayman – but there will be more on this in an upcoming post.

If you would like to get involved, there are two projects on the immediate horizon:

FREE CREATIVE WORKSHOPS AT UPPERTHORPE LIBRARY

We are doing a six-week run of FREE CREATIVE WORKSHOPS, open to all, in the Zest centre at Upperthorpe Library. These take place every Friday from 11.30am until 1.30pm, between 25^th October and 29^th November, and will be run by a professional poet, photographer and visual artist. During the workshops you will have the opportunity to share the stories of your local haunts using different media as led by each artist. You will also be invited to submit your work for publication online. Booking is preferred but not essential – contact Art in the Park on (0114) 2686813, admin@artinthepark.org.uk, or Rachael Needham at Zest on (0114) 2702040.

PARKWOOD SPRINGS ARTSWALK

The Parkwood Springs artswalk will take place on the 26^th October between 10.30am and 1.30pm. Meeting at Infirmary Road tramstop, this four mile circular walk (that includes some rough terrain) takes in some of the finest sights and intimate details that Parkwood Springs has to offer. These include the burnt down Ski Village, one of the best viewpoints in Sheffield, wild meadows, snickets, and the remnants of Parkwood Springs housing estate. There will be opportunities along the way to respond to your experience using words and photography. Booking is preferred but not essential – contact Art in the Park on (0114) 2686813, or admin@artinthepark.org.uk.