From the Middle-Ages onwards, London’s notorious Bedlam lunatic hospital saw the city’s ‘mad’ locked away in dank cells, neglected and abused and without any real cure and little comfort. The unprecedented growth of the metropolis after the Industrial Revolution saw a perceived ‘epidemic’ of madness take hold, with ‘county asylums’ seen by those in power as the most humane or cost-effective way to offer the mass confinement and treatment believed necessary. The county of Middlesex – to which London once belonged – would build and open three huge county asylums from 1831, and when London became its own county in 1889 it would adopt all three and go on to build or run another eight such immense institutions. Each operated much like a self-contained town; home to thousands and often incorporating its own railway, laundries, farms, gardens, kitchens, ballroom, sports pitches, surgeries, wards, cells, chapel, mortuary, and more, in order to ensure the patients never needed to leave the asylum’s grounds. Between them, at their peak London’s eleven county asylums were home to around 25,000 patients and thousands more staff, and dominated the physical landscape as well as the public imagination from the 1830s right up to the 1990s. Several gained a legacy which lasted even beyond their closure, as their hulking, abandoned forms sat in overgrown sites around London, refusing to be forgotten and continuing to attract the attention of those with both curious and nefarious motives. Hanwell (St Bernard’s), Colney Hatch (Friern), Banstead, Cane Hill, Claybury, Bexley, Manor, Horton, St Ebba’s, Long Grove, and West Park went from being known as ‘county lunatic asylums’ to ‘mental hospitals’ and beyond. Reflecting on both the positive and negative aspects of their long and storied histories from their planning and construction to the treatments and regimes adopted at each, the lives of patients and staff through to their use during wartime, and the modernisation and changes of the 20th century, this book documents their stories from their opening up to their eventual closure, abandonment, redevelopment, or destruction.
“Family history begins with missing persons,” Alison Light writes in Common People. We wonder about those we’ve lost, and those we never knew, about the long skein that led to us, and to here, and to now. So we start exploring. Most of us, however, give up a few generations back. We run into a gap, get embarrassed by a ne’er-do-well, or simply find our ancestors are less glamorous than we’d hoped. That didn’t stop Alison Light: in the last weeks of her father’s life, she embarked on an attempt to trace the history of her family as far back as she could reasonably go. The result is a clear-eyed, fascinating, frequently moving account of the lives of everyday people, of the tough decisions and hard work, the good luck and bad breaks, that chart the course of a life. Light’s forebears—servants, sailors, farm workers—were among the poorest, traveling the country looking for work; they left few lasting marks on the world. But through her painstaking work in archives, and her ability to make the people and struggles of the past come alive, Light reminds us that “every life, even glimpsed through the chinks of the census, has its surprises and secrets.” What she did for the servants of Bloomsbury in her celebrated Mrs. Woolf and the Servants Light does here for her own ancestors, and, by extension, everyone’s: draws their experiences from the shadows of the past and helps us understand their lives, estranged from us by time yet inextricably interwoven with our own. Family history, in her hands, becomes a new kind of public history.
From their beginnings as the asylum attendants of the 19th century, mental health nurses have come a long way. This comprehensive volume is the first book in over twenty years to explore the history of mental health nursing, and during this period the landscape has transformed as the large institutions have been replaced by services in the community. McCrae and Nolan examine how the role of mental health nursing has evolved in a social and professional context, brought to life by an abundance of anecdotal accounts. Moving from the early nineteenth to the end of the twentieth century, the book’s nine chronologically-ordered chapters follow the development from untrained attendants in the pauper lunatic asylums to the professionally-qualified nurses of the twentieth century, and, finally, consider the rundown and closure of the mental hospitals from nurses’ perspectives. Throughout, the argument is made that whilst the training, organisation and environment of mental health nursing has changed, the aim has remained essentially the same: to develop a therapeutic relationship with people in distress. McCrae and Nolan look forward as well as back, and highlight significant messages for the future of mental health care. For mental health nursing to be meaningfully directed, we must first understand the place from which this field has developed. This scholarly but accessible book is aimed at anyone with an interest in mental health or social history, and will also act as a useful resource for policy-makers, managers and mental health workers.
`This is an important and topical book coming at a time when there is growing pressure to show evidence of good practice, in order to reassure the prospective client, and to demonstrate financial accountability. It gives valuable guidelines and examples for art therapists. The book is innovative and inspiring, and the author′s enthusiasm shines through. I end with the last line of this topical, readable, relevant book - one that encapsulates its content: ′We need the facts, we need the figures, but we need the stories and the pictures, too′ - Therapy Today `This book makes a major contribution to the field of art therapy by reviewing, in an accessible and informed manner, the issues around the development of research-informed practice. The author offers an overview of different traditions of inquiry that will be of value to practitioners as well as those actually involved in carrying out research′ - John McLeod, Tayside Institute for Health Studies, University of Abertay Dundee `This impressive book is lively, inspiring and innovative. Andrea Gilroy′s energetic enthusiasm for her subject is infectious. She breathes life into the topics of research and EBP. This rich exploration combines a rigorous investigation of the existing literature with intelligent, original and practical suggestions. A thorough, informative approach that challenges existing thinking. This is a must for art therapists - at last a book that places art at the centre of our evidence in a convincingly argued, accessible and rewarding read′ - Professor Joy Schaverien PhD Art Therapy around the world is under increasing pressure to become more "evidence-based". As a result, practitioners now need to get to grips with what constitutes "evidence", how to apply research in appropriate ways and also how to contribute to the body of evidence through their own research and other related activities. Written specifically for art therapy practitioners and students, Art Therapy, Research & Evidence Based Practice: " traces the background to EBP " critically reviews the existing art therapy research " explains the research process " links research with the development of clinical guidelines, and " describes the knowledge and skills needed to demonstrate efficacy. Drawing on her own experience as a researcher, practitioner and lecturer, Andrea Gilroy looks at the implications of EBP for art therapy and examines common concerns about the threat it may pose to the future provision of art therapy within public services. Art Therapy, Research Evidence-Based Practice addresses issues which are critical to the future development and even the survival of art therapy. Combining insightful analysis with practical guidance and examples, this is an ideal resource for practitioners and for those in training. Andrea Gilroy is Reader in Art Psychotherapy at Goldsmiths, University of London.
This book explores the impact that politics had on the management of mental health care at the turn of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. 1888 and the introduction of the Local Government Act marked a turning point in which democratically elected bodies became responsible for the management of madness for the first time. With its focus on London in the period leading up to the First World War, it offers a new way to look at institutions and to consider their connections to wider issues that were facing the capital and the nation. The chapters that follow place London at the heart of international networks and debates relating to finance, welfare, architecture, scientific and medical initiatives, and the developing responses to immigrant populations. Overall, it shines a light on the relationships between mental health policies and other ideological priorities.
The last 40 years has seen a significant shift from state commitment to asylum-based mental health care to a mixed economy of care in a variety of locations. In the wake of this deinstitutionalisation, attention to date has focussed on users and providers of care. The consequences for the idea and fabric of the psychiatric asylum have remained 'stones unturned'. This book address an enduring yet under-examined question: what has become of the asylum? Focussing on the 'recycling' of both the idea of the psychiatric asylum and its sites, buildings and landscapes, this book makes theoretical connections to current trends in mental health care and to ideas in cultural/urban geography. The process of closing asylums and how asylums have survived in specific contexts and markets is assessed and consideration given to the enduring attraction of asylum and its repackaging as well as to retained mental health uses on former asylum sites, new uses on former sites, and interpretations of the derelict psychiatric asylum. The key questions examined are the challenges posed in seeking new uses for former asylums, the extent to which re-use can transcend stigma yet sustain memory and how location is critical in shaping the future of asylum and asylum sites.
Throughout history numerous individuals with disabilities have had to pit themselves against huge obstacles placed in their way because of the type of person they were born as, the type of person they became through accident, illness or circumstances, or the type of person they have been perceived as. This book tells the story of how disabled people have done this, how they have seen themselves, how they have been perceived and treated by others and how they have influenced society. People with disabilities have always been a part of English society and this concise thousand-year history ranges from the surprisingly integrated communities of the medieval and early modern periods to the institutionalisation of the 19th and 20th centuries. Sometimes the history of disability is described as a hidden history. This book argues that it is no such thing. The history of people with disabilities is often in front of our eyes, yet we frequently choose to ignore it, or simply do not see it. Accounts of daily life, events, art, literature, family histories and political debate have always featured people with disabilities who are there for all to see, but too often observers, particularly non-disabled observers, gaze straight past them.