Exploration Phase: Imagining a Fairer Neighbourhood
When we launched the Good Neighbourhood Project, we didn’t begin with a plan, we began with questions. We wanted to explore: What would a fairer neighbourhood look and feel like for the people who live, work, and study in South Hampstead and Swiss Cottage? What do fairness, connection, and possibility look like - on your street, in your language, in your daily routine?
To find out, we designed a series of Imagination Sessions: creative, participatory workshops inviting people to reflect on their lives and environments and imagine something better. The intention was not just to “gather data,” but to create space for collective reflection, where ideas could surface in their raw, human form through conversation, drawing, writing, and movement.
We met with groups as diverse as KOVE (Kilburn Older Voices Exchange), youth groups, dancers with learning disabilities, long-time residents, parents, children, and individuals with no prior connection to community work. This was our invitation: step into the question with us - what does fairness mean here, to you?
We thought of big ideas like John Rawls’ “veil of ignorance” - asking people to imagine fairness from a neutral standpoint. But abstraction proved difficult, particularly for those with lived experience of marginalisation. Letting go of personal circumstances is no small ask. Instead, we found that anchoring discussions in tangible topics - like housing, transport, and food -helped ground the conversation while keeping the door open to imagination.
In one session with a group of dancers with learning disabilities, we saw just how powerful creative tools could be. Through visualisation and storytelling, participants shared vivid, poetic images. A fair neighbourhood meant “a place where you can fly kites and keep running,” one said. While poetic, they were rooted in real desires for agency and belonging. That stayed with us.
These moments reminded us that imagination doesn’t have to be grand to be powerful. Sometimes it’s about naming what’s missing: safety, joy, rest, recognition.
A few key themes emerged across the sessions:
Connection – a hunger for deeper social ties and welcoming public spaces
Inclusion – through language, accessibility, and awareness of mental health
Agency – the right to shape one’s life and surroundings
Social Infrastructure – the spaces and systems that allow us to gather, learn, and thrive together
One particularly effective method involved asking participants to physically place themselves on a “fairness spectrum” marked on the floor as a response to a statement that was read out loud. It sparked debate, empathy, and self-reflection - people moved as they listened, adjusted, considered.
There were moments when imagination faltered. Faced with crisis (especially the cost of living) many defaulted to fixing what's broken, rather than envisioning something radically new. But we’ve learned to see that, too, as imagination: people are deeply aware of what fairness isn’t, and that clarity matters.
We closed this phase with more than just themes. We had relationships, energy, and emerging direction. But just as importantly, we had a clearer view of what this work really demands - of ourselves, and of the process.
Some things worked - and some didn’t
We ran nine workshops and four one-to-ones, plus a big public event, the Good Neighbourhood Festival, where more than 300 people showed up. But this wasn’t a smooth or perfect process. A few things became clear really early on:
Imagination isn’t easy. A lot of people struggled to think beyond what’s broken. That wasn’t because they lacked creativity, it was because life is hard right now. When you’re navigating the cost of living, overcrowded housing, or loneliness, dreaming about the future feels like a luxury. That was sobering.
The time was too short. Most workshops were 90 minutes, which felt like just enough time to open up something important - and then have to close it again. Participants often said they needed more time to develop their ideas or to process what came up.
Not everyone felt safe to speak. We saw how quickly louder or more confident voices could dominate a conversation. It took active facilitation to rebalance that. In future, we’d love to work more with co-facilitators from the communities themselves, people who already carry trust in the room.
What emerged
Through all of these sessions - with young people, older residents, artists, parents, newcomers, long-timers- we kept hearing variations on the same themes. By the end of the phase, we’d mapped out six core areas:
Food & Nutrition
Community Spaces
Mental Health & Wellbeing
Housing
Education & Learning
Safety
These themes weren’t chosen by us, they came directly from residents. We didn’t ask people to vote on issues or rank them. We just listened. And then we took what we heard and used it to shape the Neighbourhood Inquiry, where 16 residents would go on to develop concrete proposals and priorities.
A shift in how we think about "place"
One unexpected learning came from a very simple question: What do you call this neighbourhood?
We’d been referring to it as “Swiss Cottage and Kilburn,” but during the sessions, we kept hearing other names - Finchley Road, Abbey Road, South Hampstead, even Primrose Hill. We stopped assuming. We walked the streets and asked people directly. The variety of answers showed just how personal, emotional, and contested the idea of “place” really is.
Eventually, we landed on “Swiss Cottage and South Hampstead”, which felt like a better reflection of both the geography and the identities people shared with us.
Learning to listen better
We didn’t get everything right in this phase. In fact, one of our biggest learnings was how much care and intentionality it takes to hold space for real imagination. People aren’t just going to start dreaming because you hand them post-it notes and creative tools. They need trust, time, and a feeling that what they say might actually lead to something.