In the Open
My base is ‘the glade’, I’m working up close to the smell of sap from fresh-cut leaves, stepping back to inspect my progress, each footfall is cushioned in a plush carpet of leaf mould and moss, the mottled muted colours dotted with bold splashes of white: the underside of fallen monster ‘magnificum’ leaves.
The cool grey of looming rain doesn’t dampen my mood it’s still the ideal ‘open-plan office’: there’s the background ‘chatter’ of unseen birds interspersed with drumming from the woodpecker hoping for a mate, and background music all the while courtesy of the stream below.
My walk in each day is across a footbridge; looking down, the stream bed is littered with the remnants of a fantastical children’s party: each child has thrown in a pink purse, or a rabbit’s ear, or a floppy conch shell. (Or it’s the the waxy fallen flower-cups from rhodi’s higher up the gorge.)
Sarah Maitland – Gossip from the Forest
“May is the magic month in the greenwood. Gradually, through its bright four weeks, the roof of the forest thickens into summer density, the fan-vaulting of winter branches filling in and blurring with leaf dance. There is a mysterious brightness, a golden quality to the May green which will soon deepen into the heavier dark richness of full summer”
I aspire to be able to craft such sentences.
Whilst stumbling in the woods behind my house a few weeks ago, trying to find paths that in reality are just thicket, my ‘struggle’ was also with conceiving a way to transform my Rowan-look-alike leaves from whimsy to full, wonderful, meaningful ‘nature of change’ venture.
That inspiring book ‘Gossip from the Forest’ came to mind again and I wondered how the project would look through Sara’s eyes. Could I contact her?
I think the best kind of thinking is accompanied by walking, would Sara walk with me and share her thoughts? With the greatest good – nay, unbelievable – luck, Sara has said YES!
So we’ll walk together in the woods, sit in ‘my’ glade, ponder leaves, and she will write something that will become part of the artwork. We don’t know the format – that’s part of the process – but it feels as though the best thing that could possibly happen just did.
New Leaf
Along with strips of bark, seed heads and numerous photos, I’d returned from Arran last year with a bag of huge Rhododendron magnificum leaves. Letting my hands do the thinking, I’d slice into one, feathering or ‘serrating’ the edges. As I played I realised their robust leathery skin and arrangement of veins leant themselves to becoming Rowan leaf look-alikes.
Since the last glaciations on Arran there have been genetic transformations taking place unique to the island, a co-mingling of Whitebeam and Rowan has produced at least two new trees: S.arranensis and S.pseudophennica. Here seemed the heart of an idea worth pursuing: a genetic metamorphosis; the nature of change.
So during the last site visit I showed my changeling leaves to the Rangers who suggested a walk to a beautiful/magical glade where magnificum has self-seeded. It feels like the perfect location to implement another transfiguration unique to Arran; I have already re-shaped 3 leaves there which – despite the weather – are coping well with their new form. The resilience of other leaves within the glade to nature’s own manipulations suggests ‘my trees’ should survive the cuts.
Gone but not Forgotten
Last December I started melting and fusing recycled glass jars, a potential material – I thought – in which to re-create Arran in the last ice-age with just nunataks visible. I couldn’t control how and where peaks formed, but I loved the element of surprise on opening the kiln.
I had it all worked out; carefully delineated the contours of a map with lines in orange, pink and red for granite above the ice, blues and greens signalling what might lay just visible below.
I had all the ranges scaled up just enough to fit the kiln.
Abandoning all these drawings and models, could have been crushing, but it feels ok. I can imagine possible futures: a research project into the inventor of the contour line (Charles Hutton) and a recycling project where melted glass jars are utilised for being what they are: collapsed vessels.
Like the tail of a comet, the residency keeps sparking ideas to be picked up and run with another day.
Fresh Start
It had the feeling of a TV game show: 48 hours to come up with a new location and concept. I rarely feel creative under pressure, but during 2 days back on Arran I was blessed with good company: two very receptive open-minded co-participants, and I think we have come up with the seeds of a GOOD IDEA – more process than product – but exciting in its open-endedness.
So I’ve been trawling back through photos and note-books, re-visiting first thoughts from the early days of the residency. It feels like scuffling the leaves of a forest floor revealing nuggets that were overlaid then forgotten. Regeneration and cycles within nature are recurring themes; a flash of memory: picking up this piece of charcoal with its unlikely splash of living green.
