EXCURSIONS / A womb of one's own: The University of Essex is burgeoning with environmentally friendly fertility art. Serena Mackesy sized up the talent

The University of Essex isn't the most obvious location for a fertility festival. Stonehenge, perhaps, or somewhere ancient and fecund like the Forest of Dean, but the main justification for choosing this concatenation of concrete in suburban Colchester would seem to be that it's in serious need of a bit of help.

Dauntless, the Faculty of Art History and Theory has set one up. Until 3 June, or for as long as they survive incursions from the Union Bar, icons and other representations of the reproductive cycle will be scattered on the grass surrounding the tower blocks.

The glass cases in the small museum central to the display are filled with well-endowed ceramic specimens of ancient cultures, borrowed from other seats of learning around the country. Actually, there are quite a few examples of the endowment without the specimen attached. Many of these things are exquisite: Yoruba ifa tappers, Egyptian statuettes, a terracotta Peruvian woman giving birth (the expression on her face and that of the emerging baby one of pure resignation). It's a pity the display isn't about five times the size.

Out in the rain are the products of workshops which took place last Tuesday and Wednesday. You would have thought that one of the basic pieces of knowledge for an artist is that papier mache and the British weather don't necessarily mix, but on Tuesday Michael Nestor was struggling valiantly to produce a bird mobile to hang from the lakeside trees with the help only of several gross of newspapers.

Meanwhile, Nicola Burrell was hunched with some children on the one dry patch of pavement outside Barclays Bank, sculpting a crouching fertility goddess (who looked a bit like she'd been caught unawares behind a bush) out of boxes which once held Pampers, rusks and other paraphernalia of child-rearing. The intention, of course, is to 'highlight how consumerism takes over from the cradle'. Would we have cardboard if we didn't have consumer goods?

There are some lovely conceits: Michael Goodey's Green Man, for instance - a giant of turf and chicken wire whose grassy hair will have reached his knees by the time the rain stops, and Sue Guthrie's lawnmower icons, which include a replica of the eumorphous Cerne Abbas giant.

But of course, something like this has to have its wimmin's side. Ruth Anderson, Ginny Gaistor and Denise Howe, for instance, have woven some branches into 'womb-like' structures into which people can crawl and 'meditate on fertility meditations and wishes'. Money, less for old rope than old sticks. And special mention goes to Hazel Albarn's red circle. This isn't any old red circle: it's a Symbolic Red Circle made of recycled cloth. 'The circle,' says Hazel, 'is the symbol of the feminine, whether in nature or in man . . . Red is imbued with mystic tradition, a symbol of our worship of life. So for me the red circle is a holistic expression of fertility.'

The difference, as far as I remember from my schooling, between imagery and symbolism is that symbolism is a form of imagery from which all the subtlety has been removed. Some things never change.

The Fertility Trail continues to 3 June. Lectures include: The fertility cult in its 19th-century context (23 May); early and medieval fertility symbols (Thur 26 May), the cult of Shiva and its relevance to fertility (Mon 30 May). Contact Adele Roberts on 0206 872600 for details of these and other events

(Photograph omitted)