ARTISTS TALKING

# 11 [31 August 2008]

31st August 2008      Thoughts on Stickle Tarn

The altered states that Richard and I have been discussing in this Swimming Home project, and a film project in which we are also collaborating, can be experienced in different ways. Together, however, we have experienced and discussed aspects of experience that affects our sense of the 'here and now'.

What does this mean? An example. Two days ago we approached Stickle Tarn after an hour and a half climbing. We arrived at the tarn fatigued and sweating heavily due to the ascent and humidity. The tarn appeared awesome - it was unknown to us as swimmers - the low cloud increased its mystery and influenced our thoughts that drew on fear and mythology. Rationality falls away because of unknown elements.

We swam across and back in cold water, stretching our boundaries into discomfort. Afterwards, as thoughts and emotions settled, fears subsided and bodies warmed, it was a long way from the point of first arrival and sight of the tarn. We 'knew' the water and the mountain better than before. Our experience in this theatre had altered our awareness of the landscape and our awareness of our own inner landscapes.

We now better understood the phrase that had earlier been on our lips, "It furthers one to cross the great water".

# 12 [9 September 2008]

8^th September – Easdale Tarn

Richard writes:

Good swim – sunny day – a warm wetsuit – wow – what a difference! More painting on a secluded crag - Paul continued tracing a line in red across the rock. I see it as an equivalent of our journey ‘beyond the rock’ so to speak. I did iconic stick figures swimming into a crack in the rock – into the ‘world beyond’ the rock.

This is our eighth stretch of water – time to reflect …….

Paul’s question – where is the art in this journey? – tentative answer: the art is the symbolic performance of a 'swim home' and the recording of our ‘entopic visions’ (our altered states of mind) induced by the swimming on the way.

Do the marks say: ‘we passed this way’; ‘I was here’; ’ I left my mark on the world’; ‘this is what I experienced, what I ‘saw’’ – all sort of futile in the sense that the world turns and our marks and traces are worn away by the days and eventually disappear – if this is the case then making the marks ‘in the place’ and ‘at the time’ whilst still feeling ‘the heightened sense of existence’ induced by the swim must be the point.

It’s the moment of creation (together with the increasingly feeble marks/records we leave behind) that is really the sum of it - and it passes leaving only a few traces and then only for a while.

# 13 [11 September 2008]

10^th September 2008     

Grisedale Tarn (Wind over Lake)

 Paul writes: 

Stark and deep, hidden between mountains, discharging into the glaciated valley. At first sight, anxieties rose.

Today, high wind turned the water into a sea, making swimming across the tarn more of a challenge than we had anticipated. Wind chill was high and the water temperature, tested when back on shore, was 11 degrees.

On the drive to Richard’s, I’d listened to the cheers of the scientists at Cern as the beginnings of their experiment to recreate the aftermath of the Big Bang proved successful - an attempt to retreat in time.

Throughout the day we explored the meaning of John Cheever’s reference to the enlargement of the day’s beauty.

Wild swimming brings focus on the here and now – the essentials and the minutiae of experience, slowing and lengthening time.

Later, we agreed that our openness to ideas and thoughts brought about by our activity enlarges our experience, awareness and creativity, and in this aesthetic lies the art.

Descending, we gathered stones for the hexagram - “Wind over Lake”.

The day was truly enlarged.

# 14 [11 September 2008]

Wed 10^th Sept – Grisedale Tarn

Richard writes: 

Grisedale seemed pretty desolate when we got there  – like taking a dip in a lake on another planet – Neptune for instance. Grisedale – means valley of wild pigs? – none that we could see unless they meant us - it didn’t take long for the wild pigs to get in the water and swim across. 

More reflection – the sense of journey, of 'pilgrimage to a certain state of mind' has been building, and the intensity of each lake-crossing experience has become more distilled – Paul asks how the day has been enlarged – and we both thought about this in our own way – “a frog in a well cannot discuss the ocean and a summer insect cannot talk of ice and snow’ – we have ‘crossed the great water’ and know something of our insignificance – this knowledge may have enlarged the discussion - and made the day more significant.

Paul meticulously built a small rock sculpture on the way down by a stream – as we left it to its fate at the hands of the elements or people, I felt that chapter, that unrepeatable phase of the journey, suddenly slip into the past tense - the question for me then is - is home any closer?

The quote about the frog is from 'The Book of Chuang Tzu'.

# 15 [14 September 2008]

14^th September 2008  Angle Tarn, near Patterdale

“Transports of Delight”

Paul writes: 

Woke up to Andrew Motion on Radio 4 asking, “Where is home?” Is it a place or a psychological space we sometimes reach?

A shorter drive (we’re nearing the end of the journey) to Hartsop. Legs then transport us up the steep Angle Tarn Beck against the flow of the crashing waterfalls, testing my endurance on land. Goats on the crags above, show us how agility really works.

During the ascent, an alternative hexagram is built from larger slabs of rock – Heaven over Lake – a stable structure.

Angle Tarn welcomes us and allows a relaxing swim.

Later, below, over a pint , we watch a horde of bikers preparing to leave. Gear on. Last cigarettes. Pulling their rocket machines into action off their stands. “To Harrogate!” they say, and they’re gone.

We ponder the meaning of ‘transport’ to John Coltrane in the car home. To carry across. To become changed. To develop new awareness through new experiences. To keep moving.

Can all days be as good as this?

# 16 [15 September 2008]

Angle tarn – 14^th September

Richard writes:

A fair day – set off 7.30am – up steeply by Angle Tarn Beck - past goats and attractive gorge to the tarn – delightful swim – Paul has reminded me of the radio program about ‘home’ that I heard as I came to this morning – too early for philosophical ruminations but now that my brains have bucked up we wonder what ‘home’ amounts to – a state of mind and maybe some ‘memory triggers’ in the environment sparking off memories of when we felt ‘at home’ – but this could all be quite paradoxical – for why should I have felt so at home in Styhead tarn immersed in exceedingly cold water while a filthy day draped its rain clouds over us – and yet I did feel strangely protected and at home - what a conundrum the whole area turns out to be – because at the same time I recall feeling alienated in circumstances where I should have felt all the nuances of home – and homesickness which I have always felt to be a great sign post to where our hearts would feel resolved has pointed to some pretty strange situations.

We are meant to be 'swimming home' and I feel less certain now than when we started what it all amounts to – on our way back at the pub we see motorbike riders – they seem like the ‘Flying Dutchmen’ of the road – is ‘home’ for them ‘moving on’ ‘passing through’? – no idea – a pint and packet of crisps puts these thoughts to rest and we discuss motorbike pillion seats instead.

# 17 [17 September 2008]

Kentmere Reservoir             Tuesday 16^th September

Richard writes:

I sit near the window with a cup of tea watching the vertical rain – at least it means there will be little wind - Paul arrives 2pm and we set off – a long level walk up the valley from Hallow Bank to the very end – a ‘box canyon’ of a valley like in the westerns, with the lake at the end – we swim at the widest point – the water is calm and lovely to swim in – comfortable long strokes watching the rain hit the surface – while the lake and mountains have a majestic feel to them.

I tackle Paul again on the question of swimming ‘home’ – what is ‘home’? – and we talk of it being not only a state of mind but also a connection to friends and family who are situated, so to speak, in that imaginary place ‘home’ – the community waiting for us on the imaginary bank of the last tarn – arms open to welcome us – and so to the feeling of being ‘held’ – ‘held in the bosom of the community’  - as if the feeling of being held by nature or the community is essential to feeling at home - and home-sickness is the state of not feeling held securely – ‘home’ a state of mind where one can come and go freely and feel held when one is in that state - feel the connection to friends, family and the natural world.

We trudge home through the rain talking of the very real (not imaginary) hot bath, dry clothes and dinner we will eat that evening regardless of state of mind.

On a larger scale our connection to the economy and the planet feels under threat as each news flash reveals more statistics to do with ‘global warming’ and the ‘credit crunch’ and seems to threaten our sense of being at home in the world.

Twilight gathers as we reach the car and I can’t help thinking of some lines of poetry I learnt at school……

‘..And we are here as on a darkling plain

Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,

Where ignorant armies clash by night.’

# 18 [17 September 2008]

16th September - Kentmere Reservoir

Paul writes:

Today we drove to Kentmere and walked on a level to the reservoir in humid drizzle that left us soaked. We donned wetsuits amid a cloud of midges and entered the water that danced with pin pricks of light rain - small circles for each impact with a central bounce-back point. For all the wet summer weather this was the first swim in rain.

This swim, the 11th and penultimate of the project, was glorious. The surrounding mountains and hills stood in low cloud and we savoured the moment.

The reservoir is fed from higher ground by an already decisive river - the origin of the River Kent starts much higher and deeper into the fells. From the reservoir, the water falls away through a sluice and continues down to Kendal, giving the town its name. It carries on to the estuary (where Richard and I are about to stage our second installation in October as part of the final FRED art invasion) and onwards into Morecambe Bay, the Irish Sea and the Atlantic Ocean.

The power of this flow of water is considerable, rising as a trickling spring and finally reaching its ocean home.

As we walk slowly back to the car we are already anticipating our next, final swim of the project.

# 19 [22 September 2008]

21^st September 2008   Gurnal Dubs              

Heaven over Lake

Paul writes: 

Who could have imagined such a perfect homecoming? This morning brought increased excitement about the prospect of this last-in-project swim. Arriving early like an eager schoolboy at Richard’s, I find him in an equally excited state of mind. We discuss hexagrams appropriate for the day. Richard has already found the one – heaven over lake.

The day is sunny and warm with the prospect of swimming with close friends and with new friendships to be made today.

The journey to the water is the briefest of all. We arrive early, and then doze and chat by the water’s edge waiting for others to arrive.

The sound of a group of young people’s grabbed conversation about themselves and others carries across the water – a strangely reassuring half-heard sound despite its harsh content – triggering distant memories of caravan holidays with parents and a period of convalescence as a sickly child away from home, comforted by the muffled sounds of parents and nurses as I fell asleep.

Suddenly, they start to come over the hills with waves, hugs then introductions. We enter the water at the declared time and swim the length and back as a group.

Today’s focus is less on individual experience than the relationships between swimmers, strengthening with each pull through the water.

To cheers we arrive home and stagger onto the short rocky shelf. Applause. Corks pop. Bubbles drive alcohol quickly to our heads and we are elated. We picnic, exchange stories and learn more about each other. Isn’t this what home is about?

Later, I phone my mother and we discuss my cancer – its been news for her today.

Richard and I talk again on the phone. We check the weather forecast. Tomorrow’s says:

“Any rain should die out by mid-morning and hill fog patches will start to brighten up with some sunny spells developing, the evening promising the best of the sunshine.”

We excitedly agree on a sunset swim!

# 20 [22 September 2008]

21^st September 2008   Gurnal Dubs

Richard writes: 

Blue sky, sun, warmth, a hint of early mist – the day is a cocktail of high summer and early autumn - six of us swimming the length of the tarn – a jaunty flotilla – talking and feeling oh-so-fantastic, forgetting the earlier concerns of the day - we turn and do some back stroke gazing at the sky - looking back down the tarn and seeing the crowd of people on the shore as if they are an audience in an open air theatre – but then this is a performance of ‘swimming home’ after all – who the audience, who the actors? - the actors viewing the audience as if they were their unconscious? – strange inversion – but then altered states are commonplace here– we arrive at the far end and start to swim back – we are joined by a swimmer I don’t recognise and without my glasses he looks vaguely like Roger Deakin, the inspiration for our project who died a few years ago – his swimming ghost? – do ghosts swim? – altered states? - too many questions? - time standing still yet passing so quickly because all at once we are almost at the shore and everyone is there with open arms to welcome us home - Paul and I swim into the shore together – scramble out - evolution recapitulated; the prodigal’s home-coming re-enacted; actors and audience, conscious and unconscious reunited – the pile-up of connections is unsustainable because what is actually happening is that champagne corks are popping and the atmosphere is charged with celebration and warmth – we are all swimming in the enlarged day – it is the end of the water.