ONCA’s Founder and Chair of Trustees, Laura Coleman, below writes their final words on an ending.

I remember when ONCA was just an idea. A tiny small thing, bubbling away. No name yet, no bricks and mortar place. Just one idea, swirling amongst so much else. It grew, amongst the love of stories. Amongst the dappled places, the jungles, the pumas and jaguars and monkeys. The burning forests and swollen rivers, the lands given and taken, the sliding mud, the cultural destruction. It grew amongst family, friends, furred and feathered kin. It grew with creatures and peoples, many without homes. 

I remember wondering if this idea could become a home. And if it could, what that home might look like. 

I had no idea that this is what it would become, and I am so so humbled and awed by the places all of you have taken it. By the home all of you have created, here, in Brighton. In ONCA. 

When I think about ONCA now, the word that comes to mind most is generosity. The generosity of this building, the bricks and mortar of it, offering us a place to be a grieving, joyous community. The generosity and welcome of the people in Brighton. The generosity of all you artists and collaborators who came on board with the force of a hurricane, lighting us up. For really wanting the same things I wanted. But not just that, for wanting new things, different things, and for changing what ONCA was and making it better, bigger, greater, kinder, softer, harder, and so much more expansive than I could ever have imagined. 

Throughout ONCA’s story, people have given so much, with such incredible kindness. It is a heartbreak that there will no longer be an ONCA in Brighton, however, I love to think of the energy that has been bubbling here. Potions upon potions of magic. Who knows what that energy will shapeshift into, untied from the bricks and mortar? That is exciting. So many seeds have been planted. It has been such a joy to watch the birth and creation of so many entangled, painful, wondrous ideas. And those seeds are trees now, branching off in countless ways, ways that the person I was 12 years ago had no way of predicting. Who knows what trees will still be growing, five years, ten years, a hundred years from now? 

I want to say thank you, to every single person who came through these doors – human, and non-human. There’s been quite a few dogs who’ve found a home here. Dogs, birds, worms, flies, plants, cats, seagulls, books, always stories, always room for more stories. Thank you. Thank you to every person who gave their love, their attention, their creativity, their thoughts, their care, their money, their dreams. Who supported this gorgeous project, through thick and thin. Emotionally, physically, financially. I am so inspired by each and every one of you. 

Thank you, for taking this tiny dream and making it what it has become. 

Image by Sarah Edmonds, adapted for this.