Nature of Change

arranensis is here

The first Sorbus arranensis leaf I saw was a wet brown thing lifted from the mulch under the tree by the Ranger Centre. In my haste – amid preparing for the launch – I nearly missed re-visiting that tree now so resplendent in flower and with each new leaf exquisite – perfectly and uniquely ‘cut’.

So last Sunday, there we were a small reception team huddled under the Rhododendron k arranensis in Cnocan Glade wondering if anyone would willingly join us in the rain. We watched the sky glow darker, the lightening flash through and fat drops of ‘tree rain’ plop into our prosecco cups and we toasted our unluck. The germans have a phrase: Glück im Unglück and that was ours, as the visitors arrived, the rain withdrew leaving globes of sunlight pooling wet leaves; a fitting backdrop as Sara Maitland read her story.

The Story

The story is incredible! I can only give a small flavour of it here:

“The Rowan tree, Sorbus aucuparia, the mountain ash, the traveller’s tree; a laughing pioneer, it grows where other trees dare not go – further north, higher up in the free mountain air, crouching low against the vicious hill winds and the arctic blasts. Birches huddle together against the cold, but the rowan strides out alone, solitary and bold.”

It was really special hearing it read – by the author: Sara Maitland – last Sunday in Cnocan Glade. It’s about the place, the trees, the nature of change and so much more besides. Each time I read it through another element – seamlessly woven in – leaps into life.

Our hope is to find the funds so we can publish the whole story.

Cuts and Splices

“It’s funny doing everything remotely, firing things off into space and waiting for them to come back again…”

I love this snippet from the to and fro of emails with artist/film-maker Catherine Weir. After a morning filming on Arran she has distilled – from hours of ‘footage’ (pixelage?) – these 2 minutes.

Cut, spliced, chopped and shuffled, it’s been a quest for essence, a long process – with considerable patience on Catherine’s part – through which I have come to realise I prefer being behind the artwork (and not spot-lit; describing what I’d really prefer others to find – or seek – for themselves). But I’m curious to know what others think.

http://vimeo.com/94773110

Looking Different

I’m thinking about slowing down, normally associated with ‘getting old’ – check – but in this instance taking more time to really look.
The artwork is slow-burn and needs ‘different’ eyes to process its qualities (which are partly about just being there).

So as well as ‘rowanising’ magnificum leaves, I cut apertures into a heap of fallen ones in the hope visitors might tarry a while, pick one up and focus using the limiting frame (of vision) to capture detail otherwise overlooked; the nose-up-close-style seeing of an attentive bee, rather than the ‘glance and move on’ of a regular human’s woodland walk.

I’m hoping for more. After the launch, opportunities for me to visit the work will be limited and yet it will continue to change. So in the hope others might lend me their eyes, I have set up a Flickr site to collect ‘framed’ images of the work. If you visit please tarry, take a photo and upload it to: https://www.flickr.com/groups/natureofchange/

Shifting, Slicing, Lifting, Burning

I have few rules: bring nothing into the glade, take nothing away and…
shifting, slicing, lifting, burning, YES.

There’s a rough attempt at composition (do composition and compost have the same root?)

And pleasure too in seeing how keen others are to play: best moment of the day, three of us shifting a moss laden log just far enough to echo its sculpted void, contemplating freshly revealed earth. And knowing too that when I’m next back – at the end of May – we can shift it again to have: old void, new void, new moss on old wood and less wood (as one end of the log is surely rotting away).