The trees are on fire, molten leaves carpet the roads, leaving exposed what was once hidden and nurtured by the tree. Nests and drays, empty of their fragile inhabitants remind me of the essential nature of the tree for me – as a refuge.
When I was small we had a huge oak tree that dominated our garden. In this oak lived my imaginary friend – Monster – I have no idea why he was called this as I was afraid of the dark and anything remotely unsettling! He lived in the branches and I sat in a hollow in the base of the trunk to talk to him. Sometimes I lined this hollow with grass or blankets, but this was my refuge from the world, enclosed by the roots.
I have been weaving willow refuges, I actually find this process more like sewing; from the multiplying willow stitches emerge organic nest like forms of contorted twisted withies that invoke these childhood feelings of safety. It’s a very physical process and I enjoy this. To line these I am also crocheting fungal forms in white wool, primal and comforting at the same time. With practice these refuges are getting bigger, hopefully eventually big enough for me to get in!
Whilst photographing the refuges I have become obsessed with the intertwining shadow s, I am thinking of making huge cut paper templates to ‘dust’ with white pigment like spoor patterns over the floor.
