Fabiola Santana is an artist living in Liverpool. She works internationally as a dancer and performer and recently she brought her A Home for Grief installation to the Southside. In an interview with Greater Govanhill she opens up about losing her father, the grief that followed and how this loss inspired A Home for Grief.

By Devon McCole

Fabiola Santana lost her dad at the age of seven when he died suddenly in an accident. She said it had a profound effect on her. It was not long after that tragedy that her paternal grandmother became ill with dementia.

Although her grandmother was still with her, Fabiola knew her memories were fading, and along with them so were the rituals that she practised: “She was the most religious family member. She knew all the rituals, from the prayer you need when you lose your keys, to what rituals are needed after a death. As her memories disappeared I wondered ‘who was going to be the custodian of these rituals?’ And ‘what would happen when she couldn’t remember my dad anymore?’”

Without her grandmother's guidance Fabiola said she felt lost and grew curious as to how people from different backgrounds to her own grieved the loss of a loved one; what rituals they performed and how they and their families coped with death. So, in 2015 she began recording conversations with women about the topic.

In 2018, Fabiola began speaking to women from Glasgow about their experiences for the Tramway. Those recordings would then make up the sound walk part of her Home for Grief installation, during which she took participants on a touching personal journey through Govanhill, sharing tender moments of her own and other women’s experiences with losing loved ones.

The Home For Grief exhibition was part of the Trawmway’s ongoing Beyond Walls project, where contemporary performances and visual arts are presented outdoors; in parks or community spaces. The aim is to engage with local communities beyond the barriers of the Tramway building.

Upon attending the installation in July, I was greeted at a desk inside by Tramway staff who provided me with a little packet of items; a flower, a white ribbon and some chalk. These items held some significance for the artist. Fabiola used white ribbons to honour her mother’s grief for her dad. During his funeral and a period thereafter she only wore white. Fabiola’s mother is Angolan – in her country white is worn as a mourning colour.

The offering of the flower at the start of the walk was based on another memory of Fabiola’s, after he was buried at a funeral she was thought to be too young to attend: “A few days later, I was taken to his grave, just me and mum, with no collective rituals or ceremonies. It felt lonely. Seeing his picture on the marble. The inscription, an almost prophetic poem he wrote about dying.

“That day, I took red flowers and laid them for him. In bringing these materials and actions into the artwork, we hoped to offer moments for audiences to make their own offerings to their loved ones. In doing so, these accumulate into a collection of traces, in the urban landscape and indoor spaces. Traces of our presence, and our memories of our loved ones; guiding those who will come after us.”

With the help of the soundscape created by Fabiola and a map on the app, participants were asked to walk and sit with Fabiola as she talked, with peaceful and natural sounds intertwined to soothe the listener and create a sense of calm, being interrupted only by the conversations she had recorded with the other women.

As I was taking part in the exhibition, I was naturally thinking of my own loved ones who have passed and how myself and those around me responded. This was much easier to do outside with my headphones on as I looked at the landmarks of Govanhill that I had grown up beside, each of them intertwined with memories of my own.

The voice in my ear asked me to place the flower in my packet next to the Tramway, then later I was asked to tie the white ribbon around a fence in Govanhill, and to write the initials of lost loved ones on a brick wall with the chalk next to the fence. I was struck by the rows and rows of initials that once belonged to the loved ones of others as the white ribbons fluttered beside them in the wind. It was touching to see other’s take part in the exhibition, listening to the same soundscape and walking along the same journey as we occasionally passed each other, all of us taking part in the same rituals as we were instructed by Fabiola but undoubtedly casting our minds back to our own memories.

It was quite a profound experience to understand that we are all connected by grief, a deeply personal yet universal experience, as we were encouraged to remember those we have lost, keeping them alive even in death. One woman interviewed by Fabiola spoke of how grief and death was not spoken about in her culture, that it was taboo, and it was something she struggled with, seeing her family rush to erase any trace of her loved one after death; their clothes, bedsheets, everything. The point of Fabiola’s installation was to break down those barriers and dedicate a few hours to our grief and to those who have passed, allowing participants a moment to honour those loved ones and those feelings by exploring the many forms grief can take.

Fabiola said: “A Home for Grief is about death, dying and grief...but really it is about love. The women I interviewed taught me so much about making space for others, their memories and how we might listen as an act of witnessing. When I listen, my role is to be present for the other person and to allow myself to sit with the feelings that come up. I am not there to make it all better, or help them “move on”. They taught me how to be present for my friend at the end of her life as she was admitted to hospital. How to make space to lay my head on my grandad’s chest at the end of his life, and ask him about his fear of dying, what he would like to happen after he died; and to let him know about the love he would leave within us. I gave an impromptu eulogy at his funeral, something I would not have been able to do without A Home for Grief.”

After the guided walk was finished, listeners were led back to the Tramway and were free to view the indoor installation at their own pace, where even more soundscapes could be heard. This time there were QR codes that paired with objects and life sized drawings that interpreted where grief is felt by others. Fabiola calls these interpretations “Grief Maps”. Whether it was a lump in the throat, a heavy heart, or a sinking feeling in the stomach that was being depicted, they each showed where others felt their pain when grieving.

To hear how others had dealt with their pain was eye-opening and heart-warming. Although every person seemed to share similar sentiments there were differences in the way they could or would process it, whether they felt more shut down or unable to be alone, it taught me that there is no one way to deal with death. Everyone has their own way of coping with the hardship of loss.

Those who attended the exhibition were also able to write down their thanks, their thoughts, or any anecdotes after taking part in a book in the installation room. People were writing paragraphs at a time of their own personal stories which others were allowed to read too, making it a shared intimate experience for those who wanted to thank the artist for the experience or simply share their own.

Fabiola said: “As you contribute your own stories and memories, we all co-create this home for grief. A space tended to by me. The care you experience in A Home for Grief is in honour of my grandmother. It’s a continuation of how she looked after me, her home, and our family. Since the pandemic, we hear of the need for spaces like these, that offer time to be with the losses people have experienced at that time but were unable to express. We hope to continue to find its home in arts centres as well as more community spaces, such as unused/repurposed churches. We are hoping anyone interested in supporting the work will get in touch.”

Fabiola Santana’s A Home For Grief was very unique and interactive, at times it brought a tear to my eye, but I left the installation feeling calm and thankful for the time spent thinking about the grief felt for my own lost loved ones, something we forget to give time to in this fast-paced world where we often forget to slow down and appreciate our feelings and process our losses. It reminded me of the importance of personal rituals and acts of remembrance in staying connected to the people we love who are no longer here. It was healing and to have the freedom to take as long as we liked to listen and remember was such an important part of the Beyond Walls experience for A Home For Grief.

Tramway Beyond Walls aims to take art out of the exhibition space in and into communities. For more information on what’s coming up check tramway.org