Reawakening Ealing’s Blues Through Design

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Long called the cradle of British Electric Blues, Ealing’s musical legacy still hums beneath the pavements. The arts project ‘Where We Sit, We Hear the Blues’ asks a simple, everyday object—the chair—to carry that rhythm forward. By reimagining a chair as a vessel for memory, sound, and place, participating artists are reawakening the soul of Ealing Blues for a new generation.

What began as an invitation for imaginative, cross-disciplinary artists to work on a university project has grown into a collaborative journey: a public exhibition at Southall Gallery in west London, and a special showcase at the 2025 Ealing Blues Festival, the UK’s largest celebration of the genre. In this special article, we meet the artists shaping the story—one chair at a time—and explore how design, sculpture, painting, text, and performance can sit with history, listen closely, and make it sing again.

Thank you all for taking the time to speak with us. Can you each recall your earliest memory or introduction to Blues music, and how those first encounters shape your understanding of its origins and meaning?

Team：ziwei、jialishao、hensong zhang、jialu shen

Our earliest memories of Blues are actually pretty vague—maybe just seeing it listed as a genre on a music platform. Back then, Blues felt distant to us: we knew, in theory, that it came from the history of African Americans during slavery and influenced R&B and rock, but it was more of an academic idea than something we felt emotionally.

It wasn’t until we started talking with people in Ealing—like the council, the Blues Club organizers, music historians, and local residents—that Blues really came to life for us. It went from being just a concept to an experience, full of emotion and history, helping us understand not only its origins but also the power and spirit behind the music.

Monika Drabot – sweat

My first memory of the Blues is hearing Muddy Waters and just being hit by how alive it felt. Got My Mojo Working had this playful, confident energy, but also a kind of ache underneath. I didn’t know much about the background at the time — I just knew it made me feel like I was in the middle of something real. That feeling became a big part of Sweat— the wires in the chair are like that jolt of energy, and the cardboard circles are the heat and atmosphere of being right there in the room.

Zhuoqi Liu – Finding balance in chaos

What impressed me most was not traditional Blues in the strict sense, but Bob Dylan’s It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry. The song is written in the 12-bar Blues form, with chord progressions, shuffle/swing rhythms, and melodic phrasing that all follow classic Blues conventions. At first, I was drawn to its relaxed, languid, and subtly sensual groove. To me, Blues has always originated from storytelling about hardship and inner emotion, and Dylan’s frequent format of solo performance with guitar and harmonica closely aligns with the tradition of Country Blues. Music, after all, is a medium for telling stories. Blues music often uses an easygoing melody to convey a sad tale, as if hardship can be softened—or even transformed—through such a melody. I deeply admire this resilient and optimistic spirit.

Shan Lyu – triphrenic chair

The earliest I could remember is the feature of The Who in the film Quadrophenia when I first watched it at 17 years old. The shuffle and riffs in Cut My Hair are fascinating. I had been into Britpop and rock in the 80s-90s previously, and the Blues in the 1960s immediately made me understand how the genre and music preferences were developed in Britain. I then see the rebellious attitude in British Blues rooted in the Swinging 60s and that period of youth culture. It’s that generation of self-awareness and Blues allows us to experience a state of breaking the boundaries.

Zhiqi Li – legacy of disillusionment

My earliest memory of Blues isn’t tied to a single performance, but to a feeling—a lingering vibration that seemed to carry both sorrow and defiance. I first encountered it through the British interpretation of American Blues, already transformed, echoing across records from the late 60s and early 70s. By the time it reached me, the raw Mississippi roots had mingled with electric guitars and political unrest, especially in the shifting climate of 1971.

This shaped my understanding of Blues as more than music—it was a survival language, a way to resist forgetting. In Ealing’s history, I saw how those sounds first ignited a movement, and how they later morphed into something louder, heavier—Blues Rock—as the original wave drifted elsewhere. That transformation, the echo after the fever, is what I now weave into my work: a leather-bound chair straining against its own restraints, holding within it both the memory and the restless legacy of the Blues.

What specifically drew you to investigate the history of Blues in Ealing, and how did you identify the unique elements that set Ealing apart from other places with deep Blues roots?

Team：ziwei、jialishao、hensong zhang、jialu shen

Our path to Ealing Blues was almost accidental. We were participants in The Grand Challenge, the largest postgraduate design project at the Royal College of Art, where 108 teams were assigned to different London boroughs to explore resilience through design. Our team was placed in Ealing, and it was during this research that we first encountered the story of The Ealing Club—the birthplace of British electric Blues.

On our second field trip, we visited a record shop near Ealing Broadway and met Adam, a staff member at Oxfam Records who had previously worked as a music producer. He shared his memories of Ealing Blues, played the guitar for us, and later led us to the site of the original Ealing Club. His pride was evident, but so too was a quiet melancholy, as though the echoes of the music lingered long after the performances had ended. That encounter deeply moved us and became the spark for our further exploration.

For us, the significance of Ealing Blues lies less in its “unique elements” than in its ability to reach out and choose us. The resilience of its legacy, the way it continues to live on in personal stories and emotions, was what truly drew us in.

Blues has a rich, complex history. How did you approach researching its chronology in Ealing, and what sources or methods proved most valuable in uncovering lesser-known stories?

Team：ziwei、jialishao、hensong zhang、jialu shen

The history of Blues, from its African American origins to its arrival in Britain, is extraordinarily complex. To understand this broader context, we relied on secondary research, consulting academic articles, and historical records. We also used PEST analysis (political, economic, social, and technological) to situate Blues within wider historical conditions and to see how these forces shaped its development in America and its later resonance in Britain.

For the local story of Ealing, primary research proved essential. We conducted fieldwork and built personal connections, including an interview with Alistair Young, co-founder of the Ealing Club Community Interest Company. He generously shared his knowledge and directed us toward archives and oral histories. In many ways, he acted as a custodian of this heritage, opening doors to material that might otherwise remain hidden.

Alongside this, we drew on secondary sources , such as the documentary Suburban Steps to Rockland, which captured the cultural significance of the club in a way written texts could not. To synthesise both primary and secondary findings, we created a timeline–mind map, a tool that helped us visualise connections between people, places, and events. This method enabled us to distil Ealing Blues into four key stages, which later shaped the structure of our installation ‘ Seated in Sound’.

Finally, we collaborated with music historian John Hill, whose expertise was invaluable in identifying the songs that best represented each stage. His guidance ensured that the historical framework we had developed was not only accurate but also emotionally resonant for our audience.

How did you select the participating artists for each element of the project? Were there particular qualities, backgrounds, or experiences you were seeking to represent the diversity of the Blues tradition?

Team：ziwei、jialishao、hensong zhang、jialu shen

As curators without formal musical training, we were acutely aware of our limitations in interpreting a tradition as rich and layered as the Blues. This awareness shaped the way we selected our collaborating artists. We looked for individuals whose practices could bring both musical sensitivity and artistic experimentation into the project.

For instance, artist Zhuoqi’s practice spans multiple disciplines—combining sound, metalwork, and sensor-based interaction. Her ability to weave technology with tactile and auditory experience resonated strongly with our ambition to reimagine Blues in an interactive form. In parallel, we sought to ground the project in Ealing’s local context. Artist Ziqi, who has lived in Ealing for the past year, offered precisely this perspective. Her lived experience gave her work a sense of immediacy and relevance to the borough’s cultural fabric, enabling the installation to connect more authentically with its setting.

Beyond individual contributions, we were also interested in translating qualities intrinsic to the Blues itself. Improvisation, for example, became a guiding principle. Rather than treating it as a purely musical concept, we embedded improvisation into the design of the installation. The interactive chairs allowed spontaneous exchanges between audience and object—turning participation into a kind of performance, echoing the spirit of Blues as a living, responsive art form.

Looking back, is there anything you would approach differently in curating or researching this project? What lessons did you learn through the process that might shape future projects?

Team：ziwei、jialishao、hensong zhang、jialu shen

One of the greatest challenges we faced was the lack of financial support. As students, our networks and influence were limited, which made it difficult to secure funding. This meant that some of our ideas could not be realised as we had originally envisioned. The absence of resources also affected our ability to collaborate with artists; we had to make painful choices and, in some cases, let go of partnerships that would have enriched the project.

Another difficulty came from our own focus. We dedicated a great deal of time to supporting artists and managing their progress, but in doing so, we underestimated the importance of early communication with the public. When the installation first opened, some visitors found it difficult to immediately understand why it was placed in that location or what it was intended to express. Yet, once they engaged with the work, listening, interacting, and learning about the stories behind it, their responses were overwhelmingly positive. That shift, from initial uncertainty to genuine connection, was deeply rewarding.

From this process, we learned several lessons that will shape our future work. The first is the need to prioritise early engagement, ensuring that audiences have clear entry points to connect with the project from the beginning. The second is the value of resource management. While financial constraints were challenging, they also pushed us to be inventive, to prioritise, and to reflect on which collaborations were most essential. Moving forward, we aim to build more sustainable models of support, including partnerships, community engagement, and alternative funding channels, so that our ideas can be realised more fully.

Most importantly, we came to understand that resilience itself can be part of a project’s narrative. Just as Blues music emerged from hardship to become a lasting cultural form, our work reminded us that constraints can spark unexpected creativity. This is a perspective we will carry into every project that follows

The project explores Blues through multiple media. How did you decide which mediums to use to illustrate its chronological history, and were there any experimental formats you considered or wish you’d explored further?

Monika Drabot – sweat

Because this was about the first spark and the start of the Blues movement, I wanted to make something that felt approachable — something that invites people in and asks them to share what they’re passionate about, what makes them move. That’s why the chair has those interactive elements: the buttons, the mic. The panels at the back of the chair can also be read as a kind of domino effect — like how one song, one night, or one person can set off a whole chain of events. I played with materials that felt warm and tactile — cardboard, wire, light — so it didn’t feel distant or overly precious. I wanted it to be something you could step right up to and be part of.

Zhuoqi Liu – Finding balance in chaos

Finding Balance in Chaos captures the essence of the Blues era I was assigned: youth from 1962–1965 — a time of rebellion, sonic awakening, and cultural resistance. Inspired by The Rolling Stones’ “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction”, the piece reflects a restless generation pushing against post-war conformity, seeking identity and freedom. At its core, the work expresses discontent with the class stagnation brought about by capitalism and consumerism.

The central object is a deliberately unstable chair — a metaphor for the precarious position of youth in this social climate. As one sits, the chair wobbles and emits noise, embodying the struggle to find balance in an unstable world. This noise, both physical and electronic, becomes a sonic representation of the tension and difficulty of that search.

The noise element is created through my unique musical performance technique: I connect an amplifier to the chair and link it to my DJ console. When someone sits and rocks the chair, I manipulate the chair’s creaking sounds with effects from the DJ equipment, producing various noise textures. At the same time, I play “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” as a base track to create an immersive atmosphere.

As for the chair’s decoration:A pair of pants is draped across the seat, arranged to resemble a slouched, exhausted figure, with two pairs of shoes hang from the chair’s legs, symbolizing the fatigue experienced by countercultural youth of the era.

Furthermore, the chair back is covered with broken mirror shards that reflect viewers, representing young people’s growing self-reflection and their critical questioning of traditional authority, values, and social systems.

Together, these elements embody the restless spirit of youth during the early 1960s — caught in instability, yet seeking meaning and balance amid chaos.

Shan Lyu – triphrenic chair

The time period for my chair is between 1965 and 1969, when the Blues music in Ealing bridges American Blues traditions with emerging rock influences. Musicians blended traditional 12-bar blues with louder, improvised, and distorted performances, often in pubs and clubs. This era saw the rise of blues-rock fusion, led by bands such as Fleetwood Mac and Cream. The rise of electric blues, and its eventual mainstream success, with its result being characterised as Blue Rock and marking the beginnings of a separation of pop and rock music that was to be a feature of the record industry for several decades.

To echo this, the chair integrates three strings tuned to a G7 chord, evoking the harmonic language of classic Blues. Guitar pedals and amplifiers are modulated to resemble the distinctive timbre and tonal qualities of distorted electric guitar sounds. The longest string is attached to a threaded rod, which is inspired by a traditional monochord instrument. This setup enables the generation of overtones and pitch by bending the rod, producing sounds reminiscent of the expressive slides and bends of electric guitars in Blue Rock. The sonic structure of the chair enables performers to play in the features of Blues-Rock fusion in the era, including 12-bar structures, distorted electric guitar sounds, heavy use of bending, and improvisations.

Thinking of further experiment, I wish I’d involve percussion in the installation or performance. Drumming makes a lot of difference to the texture of the whole piece and it’d be a lively call back to the way of performing in that era. A second performer or a duplicated/adapted chair might do the job.

Zhiqi Li – legacy of disillusionment

For this chapter of the Ealing Blues story, I chose leather and metal as the primary materials. Leather carries a tactile memory—it absorbs time, touch, and sweat—while metal brings weight and resilience. Together, they speak to the 1970s moment when the Blues spirit in Ealing was straining against its own bindings, breaking into new territories like Blues Rock. The chair is wrapped in leather, but its form twists as if trying to free itself, echoing both rebellion and transformation.

Sound is embedded as a historic undercurrent—urban textures layered with archival fragments—so the listener doesn’t just hear music, but feels its echo as a presence in space. I considered working with translucent resin to symbolize fading memory, but ultimately stayed with leather and metal for their visceral connection to human touch and industrial London. In the future, I’d like to explore kinetic or breath-responsive elements, letting the chair itself “breathe” the Blues back into the room.

During your research and curation, what surprises or unexpected observations did you encounter regarding the ethnic and cultural backgrounds of Blues musicians and audiences in Ealing?

Team：ziwei、jialishao、hensong zhang、jialu shen

During our initial research, we noticed an interesting cultural contrast surrounding Blues music. Although Blues originated from the history of African American slavery, when it arrived in the UK, it was not rejected; instead, local musicians embraced it with enthusiasm and creativity. In March 1962, British Blues musicians Alexis Korner and Cyril Davies opened the Ealing Blues Club (also known as the Ealing Jazz Club) in West London, which became a key starting point for the development of British Blues (ealingclub.com). Their band, Blues Incorporated, incorporated electric guitar and other elements to create a richer, more diverse sound, attracting many young audiences. Historically, major figures in British Blues, such as Alexis Korner and Cyril Davies, were white, highlighting this unexpected cultural acceptance . This shows that Blues fundamentally emphasizes self-expression and has a cross-racial appeal.

Throughout our exploration, we also experienced this sense of inclusiveness firsthand. As outsiders exploring the local Blues culture in Ealing, we initially felt apprehensive, worrying we might not be accepted. Instead, the community showed tremendous support and openness. This reflects not only the inclusive spirit of Blues but also the long-standing diversity and openness of Ealing itself—then and now, it welcomes people from different backgrounds.

Blues is deeply rooted in the African American experience, born from struggle, resilience, and a need for expression. How did your research into the origins of the Blues—particularly as an African American art form—reflect, challenge, or expand your understanding when looking at its history and presence in Ealing? Do you see parallels between the socio-economic conditions and cultural expressions in the Blues’ birthplace and those you’ve uncovered in Ealing?

Team：ziwei、jialishao、hensong zhang、jialu shen

When I first searched about blues music online, most of the information I encountered was rather “official” in tone. As many accounts describe, blues emerged as a cultural product of African American communities, born out of oppression, poverty, and racial inequality. It was a way of expressing identity and demanding dignity, often marked by melancholic melodies and deeply emotional lyrics. Yet, when I first experienced a live blues performance at Ain’t Nothin’ But Blues Bar, my impression was completely different. Instead of sadness, what struck me most was a sense of power. While the lyrics reflected pain and struggle, the music itself felt like a free expression of the soul, and the atmosphere of the performance was filled with joy, energy, and liberation.

In conversations with blues musicians such as Marco, he shared that what draws him to blues is precisely this spirit of resistance and resilience. Even though blues may not be the most mainstream genre among younger audiences today, its essence remains unchanged.

When we looked into the relationship between blues and Ealing, we found that its development was also closely tied to the local social context. Blues began to take root in underground venues like The Ealing Blues Bar, at a time when Britain in the mid-20th century was undergoing post-war social upheaval. Many working-class people and young audiences gathered in Ealing, searching for new voices and new forms of expression. A significant number of these young people came from diverse backgrounds, and their openness to cultural and musical innovation created fertile ground for the blues to flourish. In this sense, blues was not just music—it became a way for marginalized groups and young people to voice their dissatisfaction with tradition and the mainstream, and to seek a sense of identity. This, in many ways, mirrored its origins in the United States, where it had always been a vehicle for the marginalized to make their voices heard.

Zhiqi Li – legacy of disillusionment

Researching the African American origins of the Blues brought me back to its essence—a music of survival, of resistance, and of longing for freedom. In Ealing, I found a fascinating transformation: the mussic that began as an expression of lived struggle in the American South travelled across the Atlantic, carrying its emotional DNA but adapting to a new social and cultural context.

By the 1970s, in Ealing, Blues had already begun to merge with rock, shifting from intimate, slow-paced laments to louder, rebellious sounds. This reflected a different kind of resistance—less about enduring oppression, more about breaking away from norms and embracing cultural hybridity.

This history challenged me to see Blues not as a fixed form but as a living echo—capable of migration, metamorphosis, and survival in unfamiliar soil. It also deepened my sense of responsibility: to honour its African American roots while acknowledging the ways it was reinterpreted and reshaped in Ealing’s own urban texture.

Zhuoqi Liu – Finding balance in chaos

Because of the Blues’ profound influence on all modern popular music—whether rock, soul, R&B, or hip-hop—its presence in Ealing is especially striking. When we visited Southall Library to take part in their community music activities, I was struck by the parallels between Ealing’s Blues culture and the African American Blues tradition.

Ealing is a community where non-white residents form the majority, with many being of Indian descent. As an Asian immigrant myself, I could relate to the shared sense of displacement and uncertainty that comes from living far from one’s homeland. Yet in Ealing, I saw people gathering together joyfully to share records, sing, and dance.

This atmosphere of optimism and connection reminded me of the African American musicians in Blues history, who used music as a way to express emotions, find resilience, and create community in the face of hardship.

The roots of the Blues lie in the struggle, oppression, and exploitation of black people. During the era of slavery, the living and economic conditions for African Americans were extremely harsh. By comparison, Ealing—while facing challenges—has a poverty rate of 31%, placing it in a lower-middle economic bracket in the UK (Trust for London, 2025). Even so, the living conditions in Ealing are far better than those experienced by African Americans at the time, so I believe a direct comparison between the two contexts is not appropriate.

Monika Drabot – sweat

Looking into the African American roots of the Blues made me see it as more than just music — it’s about expression, survival, and telling your truth. In Ealing, the music had travelled and was being played by people from different worlds, but that raw emotion was still there. I wanted Sweat to keep that openness — honour the roots but also let new voices in.

Shan Lyu – triphrenic chair

There is definitely some connection and overlap. The Blues’ birthplace, Mississippi Delta grew out of poverty and racial crisis, and in Blues the African music tradition was blended with their work songs. Similar in the underlying pattern, Ealing in the mid-20th century was going through post-war rebuilding when American Blues found its way into pubs and clubs in working class communities, and young British musicians adapted these sounds. The wave of immigration was also taking place in Ealing. In both geographic locations the Blues took root in singing against hardship.

Monika Drabot – sweat

The struggles were different, but the need to express yourself felt the same. In America, the Blues came out of really tough realities; in Ealing, it was more about breaking out of post-war boredom and restrictions. My chair is about that moment when you just need to get something out — plug in, turn up, and say it.

Blues and Jazz have had an enduring influence on America’s music and culture, inspiring improvisation and interaction. How far do you see a correlation between people’s socio-economic conditions, struggle, and the rise of Blues as a source for creative expression—both in its American roots and in contemporary Ealing?

Team：ziwei、jialishao、hensong zhang、jialu shen

The blues emerged from African American communities who lived through poverty, systemic racism, and social marginalization. In this context, music became not only a form of emotional release but also a powerful tool for self-expression and survival. The improvisational quality of blues and jazz reflected the unpredictability of life itself, while their emotional depth captured the resilience and dignity of people facing hardship.

When we look at contemporary Ealing, the circumstances are obviously different, yet the underlying function of blues as a creative outlet remains similar. Post-war Britain, especially in areas like Ealing, saw significant social change: working-class communities, young people, and immigrants gathered in local clubs and bars, searching for new cultural forms to express their discontent with the mainstream and to build a sense of belonging. Blues provided exactly that—a music of resistance, openness, and improvisation that resonated with people navigating uncertainty and transition.

Therefore, there is a clear correlation between socio-economic struggle and the rise of blues as a source of creative expression, both in America and in Ealing. In both contexts, the music gave marginalized groups a voice, transformed hardship into art, and created spaces of freedom where identity and community could be forged.

Zhiqi Li – legacy of disillusionment

The origins of Blues in the African American experience are inseparable from socio-economic struggle—born out of poverty, displacement, and systemic injustice. In its early days, Blues was both a coping mechanism and a form of resistance: an improvised conversation between pain and hope. That improvisation was not just musical—it was a survival strategy.

In Ealing’s history, the connection is different yet parallel. By the 1970s, the area saw social shifts, youth counterculture, and economic uncertainties. Blues had migrated here already transformed, merging with rock and acquiring a louder, more rebellious edge. The music became a way to push against cultural conformity, to voice a desire for change—even if the struggles were not identical to its American roots.

Today, in contemporary Ealing, the echoes remain. Socio-economic pressures still shape creative expression, though the themes may be gentrification, identity, or cultural heritage. Blues acts as a connective thread—its improvisational spirit allowing each generation to translate their own struggles into sound.

Shan Lyu – triphrenic chair

Speaking of the correlation, we can’t review Blues as an independent cultural phenomenon. It is deeply linked to the whole cultural/sub-cultural expression and Rock music developed afterwards. In Ealing or London, post-war industrial capitalism tried to form the ideal order of capital, which was summarised as “spectacle” in the illusion of desire created by consumption and mass media in life. Humanity was suppressed by this illusion. What accompanied Blues & Rock music was mods, hippies and drug use. The social class was accepting the desire, but they also needed the expressive music and substance stimulation to bring back the feeling of being a ‘human’. The creative expression arose from the underworld with the intention to cross the barrier against the suggestive symbol of “orthodox society”.

This phenomenon parallels the situation in America. While African Americans suffered in their socio-economic conditions, the Beat Generation, a social movement, emerged in the 1950s primarily in urban centres and is similar to the Swinging 60s. Both Blues music and these social movements represent counter-cultural activities, embracing rebellion against mainstream American society.

Monika Drabot – sweat

I think there’s always a link between struggle and creativity. Even now, it might not be the same kind of hardship, but people still need an outlet. That’s why my piece asks “what’s your mojo?” ( What is your passion) — it’s a way for anyone to put their own feeling into the mix, the same way Blues musicians do.

How did you navigate the task of balancing authenticity and inclusivity—ensuring that the project honoured the roots of Blues while making space for new interpretations and voices?

Team：ziwei、jialishao、hensong zhang、jialu shen

Balancing authenticity and inclusivity was one of the main challenges in our project. In artistic creation, abstract expression can sometimes dilute the inherent characteristics of blues or make it harder for audiences to grasp. To address this, we focused on interactive sound experiences and public participation.

For example, in Chair One, we featured This Is My Mojo Working to represent the segment, emphasizing the contemporary meaning of “mojo” as passion and energy rather than its traditional sexual connotation. The chair design and microphone allowed audiences to interact and express themselves, highlighting the spirit of self-expression central to blues rather than its traditional musical form.

In Chair Two, the fractured, oscillating design conveyed the instability and inner turbulence experienced by young people in the social context from which blues emerged. Sitting on the chair, audiences could feel the emotion rather than just observe it. Chair Three incorporated the characteristic 12-bar blues chord structure, reflecting the simplicity of acoustic blues and enabling everyone to participate. Finally, Chair Four used a new form with threads intertwined, symbolizing the evolution of blues as it fuses with jazz, R&B, and rock, creating new vitality while retaining its essence.

Through these interactive and performative approaches, we aimed to honour the roots of blues while creating space for new interpretations and voices, sparking curiosity and enabling audiences to experience the genre in a comprehensive and contemporary way.

Zhuoqi Liu – Finding balance in chaos

Firstly, the inspiration for my work comes from a deep respect for the cultural context behind blues music from 1962 to 1965. This was a period marked by the peak of the civil rights movement and by post-war economic and class anxieties. Although the British economy was gradually recovering after World War II, youth culture was filled with discontent toward the conservative social order.

This sense of awakening and resistance is at the heart of my work. I chose to express it through the image of a swaying chair and the creation of “noise,” symbolizing defiance.

Finally, I incorporated my own form of expression: during the performance, I played original recordings by The Rolling Stones while using electronic devices to make the chair produce noise, merging historical sound with my personal artistic intervention.

Shan Lyu – triphrenic chair

For my part the possibilities of new interpretations and voices are honoured by the audience. The authenticity came from the distinctive musical qualities of that period, but I wanted the piece to be an open platform rather than a fixed tribute. By designing the chair as an interactive instrument, I handed creative control to the audience, allowing them to bring their own interpretations, styles, and voices into the music. It creates a dialogue between heritage and contemporary expression.

Monika Drabot – sweat

African American origins, the migration to electric blues, and the role of artists like Muddy Waters. I honoured that by embedding those histories into the physical language of the work: wires, circles for sweat, sound for call-and-response. Inclusivity came through interaction—inviting people from all backgrounds to add their voices, to “step on stage” with a toy microphone. It was about creating a space where history is acknowledged, but participation is open and personal.

What kind of support did you receive from local stakeholders in Ealing—such as venues, community groups, or cultural organizations—and how did their involvement (or lack thereof) shape the project’s development and impact?

Team：ziwei、jialishao、hensong zhang、jialu shen

The progression and final delivery of our project were made possible through the sustained support of local stakeholders in Ealing, whose involvement significantly shaped both its development and public impact.

Our first substantial connection with the community occurred at Oxfam Records in Ealing Broadway, where we met Adam, a staff member with a background in music production. As the very first person we encountered in Ealing who was directly connected to Blues, Adam created an immediate emotional link between us and the project. He also introduced us to Alistair Young, founder of the Ealing Club. This introduction opened the door to first-hand narratives, access to archival material, and a more nuanced understanding of Ealing’s Blues heritage.

Alistair’s role was particularly significant. Beyond his personal knowledge and support, he was also the producer of the documentary Suburban Steps to Rockland, which became an essential secondary source for our research. The documentary offered us invaluable insights into the cultural impact of the Ealing Club and provided contextual depth that written records alone could not. Alistair’s encouragement and endorsement further laid the foundation for our future collaboration.

In parallel, music historian John Hill offered critical insights into the current state of Blues in Ealing, emphasising the lack of younger audiences and the importance of educational outreach. His perspective sharpened our understanding of the challenges facing Blues today.

Institutional perspectives were provided by RCA alumni Sarah and Lingfeng, now working with Ealing Council. Their expertise highlighted gaps in our approach to community-led design, particularly in relation to policy structures, equitable resource distribution, and long-term social impact. This guidance encouraged us to think beyond the parameters of a student project and to consider how our work could contribute more meaningfully to the local community.

Further support came through Mandeep, also introduced via Lingfeng, who generously invited us to present the project at Southall Library. By providing a free venue and promotional assistance, he enabled us to reach a more diverse and representative audience, expanding the project’s public resonance.

The project ultimately culminated in its presentation at the Ealing Blues Festival, followed by a more technically supported performance in a shared indoor gallery. These platforms allowed us not only to exhibit the installation itself but also to frame it as part of an ongoing cultural dialogue within Ealing.

Taken together, the contributions of these stakeholders transformed the project from an academic exploration into a collaborative community endeavour. Their support ensured that the work was both contextually grounded and publicly relevant, amplifying its reach and reinforcing its significance within Ealing’s cultural landscape.

In reflecting on the cultural dynamics of the project, how do you see the role of Blues evolving in Ealing’s contemporary music and arts scene? Do you sense a revival or transformation underway?

Team：ziwei、jialishao、hensong zhang、jialu shen

This reflection has been deeply embedded in our design process from the very beginning. It was the consistent lens through which we examined every decision and direction.

We never saw Blues merely as a historical genre, but as a living cultural language: something that still breathes, still resonates emotionally, and still holds the potential to evolve and reappear in new forms.

Electric Blues is, without doubt, one of Ealing’s most precious cultural legacies. Throughout key moments in history, it played an irreplaceable role in helping local people confront hardship, express emotions, and rebuild personal identity. Today, however, with an aging audience and the fast-paced, attention-driven nature of contemporary music consumption, especially through short-form streaming, this once-glorious cultural treasure is gradually fading from collective memory.

That is why one of the central questions throughout our project was: Can Blues still speak to the emotional landscape of today?

From our observations of Ealing’s current cultural landscape, what we sensed was not a revival in the traditional sense but rather a transformation that is quietly underway. We believe that beyond conventional formats such as live music or recordings, Blues can take on new forms of expression. It may be fused with other genres, reinterpreted by younger audiences, or reshaped through mediums such as installation art, sound design, or public storytelling.

In this sense, Blues is not “coming back,” because it never truly left. It is transforming.

Our project became a small-scale reflection of this transformation. Through ongoing dialogue with local residents, artists, and historians, we aimed to create a space where the past and the present could meet. We were not trying to preserve Blues exactly as it was, but to let it grow organically through its interaction with today’s cultural rhythms.

So when asked whether we have witnessed a “revival” or a “transformation,” our answer is yes, but not in the form of a loud, institutional revival. What we see is a quiet, organic cultural evolution that unfolds through experimentation, reinterpretation, and emotional resonance. It may be subtle, but it is profoundly enduring.

What do you hope audiences—both those familiar with Blues and newcomers—will take away from Where We Sit, We Hear the Blues, and what conversations do you hope it sparks about music, history, and community in Ealing and beyond?

Team：ziwei、jialishao、hensong zhang、jialu shen

We hope that Where We Sit, We Hear the Blues extends a quiet invitation to all audiences, whether they are lifelong followers of Blues or encountering it for the first time, to pause, sit, and listen with care.

The chair was chosen not only as a physical support for the body but as a symbol of suspension: of waiting, listening, and allowing memory to surface. We want people to sit not only in a literal sense but also in an emotional one, giving time for the Blues to reappear and speak again.

For those already familiar with the tradition, the installation may evoke a sense of recognition—not only with the music itself but with how earlier generations drew strength and release from it. For younger audiences or newcomers, the simple act of sitting may open an unfamiliar encounter. Even a brief pause can reveal a sound that stands apart from the pace of daily life: a sound layered with history and emotion, resonating in today’s context and inviting reflection on identity and belonging.

Rather than presenting itself simply as an installation to be seen or heard, Where We Sit, We Hear the Blues was conceived as a space for reflection and dialogue. By inviting people to sit and listen, the project asks how Blues continues to resonate today: how its rhythms and stories carry memory, how they connect with present-day experiences of resilience and belonging, and how they might open new ways of engaging with community identity. These questions are grounded in Ealing’s cultural history, but they also speak to wider conversations about how places sustain their heritage while adapting to change.

If someone chooses to remain seated a little longer, and to listen a little more deeply, then for us the purpose of the project has already begun to unfold.

Shan Lyu – triphrenic chair

When the works were showcased at Southall Gallery, many local residents, including children, came to interact with the chair. Most of them didn’t necessarily know about Ealing’s Blues history, but they created fascinating music with it. Those moments felt light-hearted and communal, much like the spirit of the Blues itself. You don’t always need deep historical insight to enjoy it; sometimes, it’s simply about the joy of making and sharing music. This is the kind of engagement I wanted to achieve.

For audiences who are already familiar with the music and its history, I hope they can recognise the roots embedded in my design and see how those traditions can be reimagined for today. I would love for it to spark opportunities for multi-sensory, contemporary performances that we could create together.

Monika Drabot – sweat

For me, authenticity began with research—understanding the African American origins, the migration to electric blues, and the role of artists like Muddy Waters. I honoured that by embedding those histories into the physical language of the work: wires for amplification, circles for sweat, sound for call-and-response. Inclusivity came through interaction—inviting people from all backgrounds to add their voices, to “step on stage” with a toy microphone. It was about creating a space where history is acknowledged, but participation is open and personal.