CONSENTING OBJECTS

Trélex Residency Day 10. 7 November 2019.

A gift for Rita. Walnuts gathered from a Chelva campo and then given a place in her installation in the Trélex studio.

I am reading Lewis Hyde’s fascinating book ‘THE GIFT’. A wide ranging exploration of the giving of gifts rather than the buying and selling of commodities. Using examples ranging from fairytales, Polynesian gift economies, usuary, Ezra Pound and the Greek god Hermes; the last chapters focus on the giving and receiving of the ‘artistic gift’. 

Scientists discovered that when birch seedlings were ‘weeded’ out from Douglas Fir plantations, the young conifers failed to thrive or even died.

Then this morning a fascinating reading in Richard Rohr’s daily meditation appeared in my Inbox, it focused on the mutuality of trees and fungi.

The giving of gifts

I made some pencil and match-stitch charcoal drawings using the curtain rings as templates.

“The mycorrhizae may form fungal bridges between individual trees, so that all the trees in a forest are connected. These fungal networks appear to redistribute the wealth of carbohydrates from tree to tree. A kind of Robin Hood, they take from the rich and give to the poor so that all the trees arrive at the same carbon surplus at the same time. They weave a web of reciprocity, of giving and taking. In this way, the trees all act as one because the fungi have connected them. Through unity, survival. All flourishing is mutual. ”

— https://email.cac.org/t/d-l-xiyyudl-cdtjrihld-r/

I bought several wrapped gifts with me; all contain objects that consented to travel to Switzerland wrapped in eco-prints from my garden in Chelva.

Consenting Objects

Trélex Residency

Day 9 6 November 2019

8 curtain rings, saw-dust from felled tree

I’ve been wondering what the plastic curtain rings are for. During my Master’s degree I wore 8 buttons to denote being a Journeywoman (as is still the tradition for Journeymen in Germany).

Four dye sticks ‘Tori’ gate

The four winding-sticks I used for dyeing the paper became a portable ‘Tori’ Gate. Traditionally, the gates mark the entrance to Shinto shrines; denoting the transition from the mundane to the sacred. Carrying a miniature version around the garden offers an alternative dynamic.

Entrance to another world.

I replace the small yellow bucket at the junction of the water and energy lines with a self-chosen triangular log from the family log store. The divining rods were sure of their choice. 

At the junction of two energy lines

In Shinto shrines shimenawa ropes are tied around or suspended across an object or space to denote its sanctity or purity. Tassels usually hang from the rope at intervals with suspended white paper streamers (Shide).

Rope and eco prints on paper with distant views of snow

Eco-prints on paper of plants collected from my garden and surrounding hills of the Spanish town of Chelva near Valencia. Walnut with iron and alum mordants. The length of the paper fitted the wooden table in the cabin exactly.

CONSENTING OBJECTS

Trélex Residency Day 8. 5 November 2019.

I install the rope as a Shimenawa across the garden from two trees. Then I add the paper prints.

The various lengths of hemp rope I bought with me from Spain were knotted together and stretched between two trees to make a Shimenawa; one of which marks the Energy Line on the eastern boundary. I use the dowsing rods to position the eco-prints, which are suspended from the rope with hemp twine and clips; the wind enjoys them.

The Walnut leaves were gathered on a walk near Chelva but there are several small Walnut trees in the garden at Trélex.

In the afternoon I returned to the Lac Leman Museum in Nyon. The second floor is dedicated to the inventor Auguste Picard; a physicist who is known for his record breaking helium balloon flights and exploration of the ocean depths.

Auguste Piccard inspecting the porthole glass for his new submarine design.

Evening light on Lake Geneva

Consenting Objects

Trélex Residency 4 November 2019

Sense: a faculty by which the body perceives an external stimulus; one of the faculties of sight, smell, hearing, taste, and touch.

In the Trélex garden I ponder Absence and Presence; the space where a tree once stood and the its sawdust.

Can it remember?

The transformed chair walks the Energy Line which passes through the woodland. I’m pondering marking its presence on the other side.

Walking the Energy Line

It falls over from time to time; it has tenuous tenons.

Meanwhile the roof of the Woodland Shrine quietly turns from red to gold; sheltering kami.

Consenting Objects.

Trélex Residency. Day 6 3 November 2019

It rained. I watch the miniature Umbrella Pine in the neighbour’s garden delight in making ripples on a circular pond surrounded by golden leaves. The perfect meditation for a November day.

CONSENTING OBJECTS

Day 5 2 November 2019

The sun came out and mountains appeared.

I day spent with an old friend exploring the sights of Nyon in the sudden sunshine. The mountains are clear and blue across the lake with the first dusting of snow. Irregular and uncompromising.

The ever changing light on the lake

Nyon was the Roman colony of Noviodunum; three columns have been re-erected on a bluff of land overlooking the lake under the castle.

Noviodunum: New Walled Town

After a walk by the lake we visit the Leman Museum on the water-front, which houses a small aquarium of indigenous fish and an eccentric collection of Lac Leman objects. Highlights include:

A cabinet of tiny tableaux commemorating an event that took place on 23 November 1883. Two steam ships collided and cracked in half on the lake with loss of life. I wonder how it came to be made?

A collection of life-saving dummies and fishermen’s marker buoys.

A floating ladder that was moored on the lake for bathers to enjoy.

The day ended very pleasantly with cups of tea, a glass of wine and a delicious cheese fondue.

Consenting Objects

Day 4 1November 2019

Today there was a surprise waiting outside- there are mountains! The sky has been low and white since I arrived and now, even though it’s raining, they are visible. Dark and brooding their sudden presence changes my perception of the place. 

I hope she won’t mind….

I borrow the little girl’s notebook and a pencil from the Wendy House ‘wood-land-shinsha’. I hope she won’t mind. She’s kindly drawn her dream wedding dresses and a lovely picture of falling leaves. In fact that’s the name she has given her house. “LEAF.....”. It is written on the lintel in green marker pen.

I cover the roof with red leaves but slowly the sycamore leaves fall

But this morning the farmer has cut the boundary hedge; a brutal affair. The Energy-line tree has had its top sawn off and the Sky-Shelf has gone; only a pile of saw dust remains. I wonder what that means?

In memoriam.

It’s raining, so I return to my room to write Haiku verse. They attempt to follow the typical three line 575 pattern and should contain a seasonal reference. Some of mine do.

Marriage seems an apt metaphor for the meeting of two lines of energy: Water and Earth. But then there’s also Rock and Woodland and I wonder if that’s where the rope may come in?

Shimenawa  ‘enclosing ropes’ are set up to enclose sacred or pure space, often in Shinto shrines; their purpose is to ward off evil spirits. They are often found at sacred landmarks.

MEOTO IWA (“Wedded Rocks”) Japan. The larger rock represents the husband and the smaller the wife,. The couple represents Izanagi and Izanami; the gods that created Japan.

Consenting Objects

Day 3 1 November 2019

All Hallows’ Eve and I take a broom and sweep; the old Station Master’s cabin needs cleaning. I’m mindful that today is Halloween and also of the task of cleaning Shinto Temples carried out by Mitko maidens. I see cleaning as a means of honouring Place.

The old Station Master’s cabin has a magnificent dresser and a sink

The cabin is a microcosm of a house; it has a large cast iron stove, a ceramic sink which drains outside, wire drawers to store cheese placed over the window, a wooden plate-drainer, a chair and table. The dresser is the imposing centre piece with glazed doors and is placed centrally as you enter; it reminds me of a Butsudan (Buddhist Shrine). The hut sits on a vein of deep underground water.

It also has a drawer of very scary black spiders

This afternoon I wander around the woodland. It is quite steep inside and about 2.4 metres tall; overgrown with saplings and brambles and feels quite disconcerting. I’m curious, but don’t want to spend much time in there. I’m not sure if I want to tend it or ignore it. It feels disturbed.

The woodland mound

I collect fallen red ‘Virginia Creeper’ leaves from the garden and place them on the roof of the Wendy House. I’m intending to write some ‘winter-water’ haiku in the exercise-book. It’s waiting.

A red roof and a yellow floor for the water shrine

Using the divining rods I ask the Consenting Objects which of them is willing to be placed in the cabin. The eco-prints say “yes” as does the dyed off-cuts of twine that were used to bind the paper in the dye-vat. I place them in the dresser with the doors open.

A stack of prints made from plants in my Chelva garden and string used to bind them in the dye-bucket.

In the pitch-dark I return with my Portuguese studio-mates to read them the story of Vasilisa; the Russian folk story of a girl’s journey to collect light from Babayaga the terrible witch who lives in the middle of a dark forest in a hut that sits on chicken’s legs; it all looks very different on Halloween night.

Consenting Objects.

DAY 2 TRÉLEX RESIDENCY

THRONE (Found Object) placed with divining rods.

Today I started ‘close in’ from the front door and walked out into garden - wandering with camera and divining rods.

Grafted Cherry Tree

Wonderful autumn colours, but it was the Wendy House that caught my attention and a broken rotten chair lying nearby.

The yellow bucket marks the junction between the Energy Line and the Water Line (Wendy House).

First I asked for the Earth-energy line and then the underground water. As is often the case human beings seem to place objects on top of them. The ‘Wendy House’ and ‘Station Masters’ cabin both sit on water lines and I placed the reassembled chair on the energy line, with its consent. 

The reassembled chair walks on the Energy Line.

I marked the water-energy line junction with a found small yellow bucket.

The chair seat chose to become Shelf at the garden boundary of the Energy Line.

I remember reading that Shinto shrines (shinsha) are usually completely empty; they act as shelters for the spirit/s of the place (kami) which maybe symbolised by a mirror. 

In the case of large landscape features, such as mountains or rocks, the shrine may be empty and a sacred enclosure created for the kami by a rope called a shimenawa .

The Wendy House sits on one of the Water Lines. Empty apart from a old exercise book, three pencils and a colony of red and black bettles.

An old timber cabin sits over the Deep Water Line. It was the local Station Master’s shelter and is equipped with a hefty cast iron stove, shelves, cupboards, sink and glazed windows. It must have been as toasty as a sauna.

The Station Master’s Cabin

The Station Master’s Stove

There is a small stand of woodland on a oval shaped hillock at the far end of the garden which is bisected by the energy line. I’m very curious about what ‘s under it?

The Wendy House is home to a large colony of beetles.

Trélex Residency

Consenting Objects.

Consenting Objects

Day 1. So the adventure begins. In my suitcase I’m carrying the stash of objects that have consented to travel with me from Chelva in Spain to Trélex in Switzerland. 

Objects came from my garden or house in Chelva

The question I asked was “... do you consent to travel to Geneva?”. If my divining rods crossed over them, I interpreted that as a “yes”.

Eco-prints of vine and olive leaves

A series of eco-prints on paper and fabric made with plant material harvested locally, together with arbitrary fragments and objects found in my garden; tiny oranges, pomegranates, bones, ceramics and washed-hemp ropes used in a installation.

Bone and ceramic fragments on dyed fabric

The long journey north starts from Valencia on the early high-speed AVE train from Joaquim Sorolla station up to Barcelona up the east coast of Spain; past coastal pines, beaches, villas, resorts and the port of Tarragona. Then the plane to Geneva and finally two suburban trains to the village of Trélex.

Sunrise over Valencia docks, the wonderfully spacious AVE train and coastal views south of Barcelona.

The Trélex Residency is run by Nina Rodin a friend from Camberwell College days.

http://trelexresidency.blogspot.com/p/about.html?m=1

The Objects and me installed.

Finisterre to Santiago

22-24 September 2019

Beach combing at Finisterre

I arrive at Finisterre the day before the rain arrived and walked the beaches looking for shells after a morning sheltering in coffee shops.

I had hoped to walk to Muxia but it seems my walk is over!

Sunday 22 September

I had hoped to walk to Muxia, a 28Km walk to the north. Muxia is wild place; rocky, a rugged workaday fishing port and elemental. But the bus timetables didn’t synchronise, so I’ve returned to Santiago 2 days early.

“Europe was made on the pilgrim road to Santiago”

It’s Sunday afternoon and wandering in the Old City I come across a text carved in several European languages in the pavement; I remember it from previous visits: 

“Europe was made on the pilgrim road to Compostela”

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, 

From there it was a short walk to the Centro Gallego de Arte Contemporánea.

The current exhibition is WE REFUGEES.

The title is taken from a 1943 essay by Hannah Arendt about her experience of being a refugee in France and America; mainly about the enforced loss of identity.

It is a sobering, well curated show and returning from a short self-imposed migration it had a particular resonance.

CEE TO FINISTERRE Friday 20 September 2019

Much of the indigenous oak woodland has been replaced by eucalyptus which is a fast growing cash crop. Pilgrims often leave pebbles on top of way-markers.

Another misty autumnal day; a lovely walk from Cee to Finisterre via the pretty historic village of Corcubión on the other side of the estuary.

Then a long slow climb over the hills and sudden views of the sea and sandy bay of Estorde, where I stop for a coffee and meet the Belgian guy again. The beaches are deserted; just a few gulls looking at the view.

Suddenly I’m walking by the sea beside pine trees.

The waymarkers indicate I’m nearing Finisterre and I stop for a celebratory beer at the end of Playa Langosteira and watch the steady stream of pilgrims walk along the beach towards the town. It’s moving; some will have walked hundreds of miles to get here.

A celebratory beer followed by grilled razor-clams.

I book into the Hostel Oceanus where I stayed three years ago and where I collected the well-water for the SEA WELL installation. The simple joys of a clean comfortable bunk with a cotton sheet and a towel.

Hostel Oceanus in Finisterre

For old times sake, I eat a plate of baked razor clams for lunch (navajas). Then wander into the wholesale fish market (Lonxa) where fishermen watch digital screens displaying current fish prices, overlooked by a magnificent statue of the Virgin and child pulling drowning fishermen from a tumultuous sea. The waves here must be huge; next stop New York!

The wholesale fish market in Finisterre.

A life-size statue of the Virgin overlooks the fish-market trading floor; this coast is called El Coste del Morte for a reason. The fog descends in seconds making the granite cliffs perilous in heavy seas.

At about seven I look at the weather forecaste and unexpectedly see rain for tomorrow, so hurriedly set out for the Cabo (cape). 

Typical harbour views and an aerial photo showing the Cabo (cape) which is about 3Km to the west of the town.

It’s uphill all the way, but an easy gradient; I meet the Belgian guy walking down. 

I arrive at the Cabo about 8pm with hundreds of others to watch the sunset, at what was once the most westerly point on the known world, until Magellan (or if you prefer Eratosthenes of Cyrene) discovered otherwise. What a seismic change of consciousness that must have been; to suddenly discover you live on a globe spinning in space.

The Cabo is often shrouded in mist, but a break in the clouds revealed glimpses of the setting sun. The only sounds are the wind and the distant waves below and snatches of languages from all around the world.

The sunset is slow and undramatic; the cloud-covered sun stains the grey sea pale orange and before it finally slips into the dark ocean. Night falls momentous. I trust its alchemy.

The final way-marker reads 0.000Km; the end of the Camino de Compostela. The statue of the pilgrim greets walkers as they reach the summit.

I’m reminded of one of my favourite poems…

“... And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.”

— Gerald Manley-Hopkins

The pilgrim route to Finisterre is thought to be far older than the one to Santiago; there are remains of Neolithic sun temples on the surrounding cliffs and the scallop shell is an ancient symbol of fertility.

OLVEIRA TO CEE Thursday 19 September 2019

Buen Camino

Another day of sunlit mist and granite uplands. The gorse is festooned with dewy cobwebs and there are chestnuts and autumn croci; it’s a delight to walk an autumnal Camino. 

Perched high on a hill…

But the almost highlight was an absolutely enormous steelworks perched high on the horizon at the Great Divide, where the Camino routes divide to Finisterre and Muxia; I rather admire the unashamed disruption!

An autumnal Camino.

Top right. At the ‘Great Divide’ where the routes to Finisterre and Muxia diverge in a great sea of tarmac!

It’s a long walk uphill and then down to Cee, a small town on the estuary. My left knee is very painful walking downhill, so I adopt a strange diagonal gait with my poles taking the strain.

The Camino often transitions abruptly between rural seclusion to suburbia.

A day of varied views and terrains.

The Albergue Moreira is spotless; the host ever vigilant and helpful. It has a well equipped kitchen, so I buy fresh cod and salad for supper.

Worth the walk…

SANTA MARIÑA TO OLVEIRA Wednesday 18 September 2019

A typical Galician hórreo on its staddle stone legs.

Stone granaries, Horreos, are a feature of most villages in western Galicia. Further east the granaries are square and made of wood, but here they are made of granite and only a few feet wide.

Thank you Hare!

It’s a day of an animal encounters: sweet and noble dogs, calves (lots of intensive dairy here) and an amazing baby Hare- which hopped around in the middle of the track until other pilgrims noticed that we had to take a sudden turn left!

Granite uplands

After a long uphill walk I’m on granite uplands and notices explain I’m walking past Neolithic burial mounds.. . but perhaps they are very eroded because I couldn’t see them!

On the Way…

The Albegue Hórreo is very nice; clean and well planned. Each bunk has a  light, curtain and a phone charging plug. An excellent menu del día for €10 complete with half a bottle of red wine. I sup with an Irish woman and Belgian man who has been walking the Camino for years and has tales to tell.

SANTIAGO TO NEGREIERA

Monday 17 September 2019

The main post office in Santiago where I leave my pack and hope for the best….

I have an admission to make. I’m paying the Spanish Post Office (Correos) €20 to collect my back pack every morning and ‘fingers-crossed’ deliver it to my Albergue every afternoon. Hurrah. Worth every Euro. 

So my first stop this morning at 8.30am is the main Post Office in Santiago.

Santiago at sunrise and I’m on my way to Finisterre.

It’s wonderful to be on the Camino again and as I fall into my stride, with my walking poles tapping out a familiar 4 beat time, tears comes to my eyes. The rhythm is hard-wired into my system after walking the Camino del Norte and anchors me deep into the Earth and Place. 

Typical Galician views; eucalyptus forests, gorse and heather and a traditional Hórreo (granary).

The smell of eucalyptus, pine, bracken and oak woods drift in the air with blackbird song and the croak of crows providing the soundtrack, with the occasional thud of acorns hitting the ground.

Views of Ponte Maceira.

I’m on my way to Negreira about 22 Km with the usual ups and downs in between. The highlight is a spectacular village called Ponte Maceiera, which has a long curved bridge over a granite boulder-strewn weedy river and a roaring weir.

From there it’s about an hour’s walk to Negreira where I book into my first Albergue of this trip... it’s basic, but my backpack awaits me. 

As you leave the town there is a picturesque gatehouse and square which has a sculpture depicting a Gallego family; I remember it from last time.

The exodus from Galicia

It depicts a Galician father setting out on a journey, his feet uprooted from the soil from which he sprang, leaving his plough, wife and two children behind. Thousands of Gallegos emigrated all around the world in the late C19th and early C20th, mainly to Argentina, UK and Central Europe.

SANTIAGO DE COMPOSTELA Sunday 15 September 2019

View from my window this morning. The Sisters have hung washing to dry on the agapanthus plants in the garden.

This reading arrived in my inbox this morning courtesy of Richard Rohr:

“The ego seems to find its energy precisely by having something to oppose... When the mind can judge something to be inferior, we feel superior. We must recognise our constant tendency toward negating reality, resisting it, opposing it, and attacking it in our minds. This is the universal addiction....

Mmm... that rang a bell.

The procession starts from the front door of the convent complete with fireworks and bagpipes.

There’s a procession of the Virgin this morning leaving from the front gate of the Convent de San Palayo. Having followed so many processions in Valencia I’ve become a fan.

We walk for an hour through the streets accompanied by loud fireworks, drums, bagpipes and tall beeswax candles. I leave them at a roundabout in the suburb of Santa Clara.

After a coffee break, I head to the Museum of the Galician People. Stunning…

A untouched Romanesque church with one or two later extravagances.

Housed in an  old monastery it has a fantastic triple spiral staircase, a beautiful Romanesque church and a remarkable collection of artefacts documenting traditional Galician life, which seems to have been intact until the early C20th.

The remarkable triple spiral staircase- each stair lands at a different gallery of the museum.

Just as the developed West has to transition to a more sustainable, low carbon economy here it is. 

Basketmakers, clog makers, potters, farmers, weavers, stonemasons; manufacturing for society without a scrap of plastic or a drop of crude oil being combusted. It’s truly humbling. The skill levels are astounding.

But it was a hard life without frills or surplus and thousand emigrated to find an easier life.

A flax carder, a wagon wheel, a clog-makers bench and traditional building forms.

Galician sourdough bread is delicious and I have a huge chunk for lunch with a plate of Ensaladarilla (Russian salad) and a local beer.

Lunch- Galicia is famous for its bread.

SANTIAGO DE COMPOSTELA Saturday 14 September 2019

The cathedral renovations have a Piranesi like grandeur, even the ropes that swing the now missing Butofumerio.

After a huge breakfast, I discover that the cathedral is open despite the renovations and the place is full of pilgrims and visitors.

Behind the Baroque facade there is a wonderful granite Romanesque church, with narrow arches, plaster vaulting and simple carved capitals; echoes of Byzantium over laced with  Celtic strap-work. Every stone and joint is visible. As the cult of St James developed over the centuries it was overlaid with gilded carvings, gigantic painted cherubs and statuary until the backdrop has become almost invisible.

Now even the famous golden statue of St James is obscured by scaffolding and shrouded with cliffs of polythene.

Something resonates with this internal disruption. When I started my pilgrimage in May 2016 our present Brexit predicament was inconceivable and I feel I have thrashed around ever since, gradually stalling to a weary standstill.  I find myself back here.... wondering what to render to God or Caesar. 

So I’m going to walk West again to the ‘End of the Earth’ - Finisterre in an attempt to re-orientate as I turn to face to East again.

The chapel of Santa Maria del la Corticela.

The Romanesque chapel of Santa Maria dela Corticela is up a flight of stairs that I hadn’t visited previously. An intimate space with a warm cross breeze from an open doorway and a bronze statue of a spindly pilgrim carrying a cross and scallop shell.

The start of the Camino Finisterre: 89.48Km to go.

I wander downhill to find the start of the Camino de Finisterre until I come to a stand of old oaks and the first way-marker. Nearby lies a hollow rock and a hollow tree trunk; they seem to mark the threshold.

Galicia is famous for its cuisine, especially pulpo- octopus.

Santiago is an elegant city, the old quarter is a maze of arcaded granite streets with chic clothes shops, pinxo bars and sea food restaurants as well as the souvenir shops.

SANTIAGO

Santiago Cathedral facade. I was last here in 2016 and it was covered with scaffolding; now it’s visible in all its Baroque glory. A riot of granite if that’s not an oxymoron?

On Thursday night I booked into a hotel near the airport and my alarm wakes me on Friday morning at 4.30am. I’m flying north to Santiago in the dark but arrive as the sun rises dramatically over the tarmac.

There’s a airport-bus strike, so four of us share a taxi which conveniently drops us near the cathedral square; so early that even the pilgrims haven’t arrived. I was last here in 2016 after walking 500 miles along the Camino del Norte.

Santiago Old Town is brimming with Pilgrim souvenir shops with an endless variety of apostle bells, badges, holy water stoops. What a friend calls ‘Holy Hardware’. Love it!

I met an Ecuadorian American at the airport; we shared a taxi and then headed off for breakfast and then browsed a few of the thousands of souvenir shops than line the streets. 

I have decided to do a different sort of pilgrimage this year and reserved three nights nights in the Benedictine convent of San Pelayo near the cathedral.

The convent of San Pelayo. A shockingly austere exterior but with a lovely garden in its centre.

It’s shockingly austere, a veritable fortress on the outside. My map app directs me to a shadowy archway where I ring a bell; a sister appears on the other side of a metal grille. She directs me to a wooden door and I walk in and up the stairs. 

I was about to abandon my pack on a bench, when the Residencia door opens and I’m ushered by Hermana Monserrat, a sister dressed in a black and grey habit and made most welcome.

My en-suite room is airy with tall, shuttered windows overlooking the garden, with views of the cathedral towers over tiled roofs. 

Having settled in, I need to do some last minute shopping; a sun-hat and packable-mini rucksack and thankfully find both in the same shop. 

I lie on my bed and watch the shadows and reflections.

My four- course lunch is eaten alone in a windowless dining room, served by a smiling nun. Surreal, like the last scenes of 2001 Space Odyssey, I half expect to see my younger self through the adjoining doorway.

Then I lie on my bed and watch the light and reflections cross the bare white walls and am reminded of the subtle interiors of the Dutch Old Masters. It is silent except for the garden water-sprinkler and the thunderous quarter-hourly cathedral bells.

After a long siesta I head into the cathedral square. The cathedral seems to be shut for renovations, but the cobbles are strewn with happy lounging pilgrims celebrating the end of their journeys. The sound of Galician bagpipes drift from a gateway and I feel envious and fraudulent wearing my leggings and walking sandals.

A beer in the plaza before supper

Supper is at 9pm with a Spanish guest for company; another feast of homemade tortilla, salad and sardines. We muddle through a conversation in English and Spanish; he’s an industrial electrical engineer studying theology.

I’m tired and go to bed at 10.30pm, armed with ear plugs to counteract the cathedral bells and the distant carousing of pilgrims celebrating in the plaza... 

Drawn In

Jo Saurin and Karen Wood, MFA colleagues were showing work in this lovely exhibition of drawings at Bridport Arts Centre in May.

A troupe of dancers were invited to interact with the works and work with four artists on long pieces of pieces of paper taped to the floor. As they danced the pastel and pencil work smudged, building up layers of colour and overlaid lines. The final footage of the video was filmed by a dancer as she danced across the drawings; swooping and turning.

MUNDUS

MUNDUS is Latin for World and I first made a version of the piece in 2006 after attending a Climate Change conference at the RSA (Royal Society of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce). 

After three days of lectures by eminent scientists and activists I was in deep shock and entered a period of mourning. I had heard of Global Warming of course, but as I looked at graph after graph I wondered how I could continue to work as an artist; MUNDUS and associated works were the result.

MUNDUS was installed at St James’s Church, Piccadilly. London in April 2019 to mark Earth Day as Extinction Rebellion XR were protesting in nearby Piccadilly Circus.

It was made directly on the wall of the side-chapel as a temporary reredos and is made from wood-ash (an ancient symbol associated with mourning and penitence) adhered to the wall with water from the River Thames and honey (a substance with healing properties).