Blog 11

Yesterday we went on a walk. A full days walk, something we haven't done for a while. We followed the path of Andy Goldsworthy's Striding Arches. A set of three stone built curves set on the top of the hills in the Dumfries and Galloway area. A forth arch has been built inside to outside of an old disused farm building, our starting point.

I am a huge fan of Goldsworthy. He has played an influential part in my development as an artist and is a great inspiration to follow. Working directly in the landscape he makes sculptures, permanent and temporary, using the materials that he finds or that belong or are associated with a particular area. His work can have a performative edge or action that happens either straight away or over a long period of time, such as melting ice, plant decay, or ageing of wood or stone.

It was a strenuous walk, physical. My senses were heightened and I became very aware of all the colours around me. They seemed brighter than ever. Was this because Portugal had been drier and more arid? A hue of greens and greys with the occasional exotic plant. The ground in Scotland is lush, illuminous almost, with all shades of browns and oranges, pinks and greens all mixed in. I mainly work in monochrome, black and white, and these colours are bright.

It is also very noisy, not of dogs barking and the tinkling of the bells around the sheep, goats and cow's necks in Portugal, but of birds and insects. It seemed almost deafening. Lovely, but very loud. At least it seemed so.

It was good to be out in the fresh air. I seem to crave the sensation of wind blowing in my face, almost hungary, just for that. The sense of touch perhaps, and a metaphorical "blowing away the cobwebs", freedom.

We walked through the forest. 'Proper' forest, where the path disappeared and we had to scramble vertically up the hill side, through the trees, almost on our hands and knees, getting covered in all manner of pines, twigs and plant debris on the way. Initially I loved being in the forest, the soft carpet ground, the smells of the wood, the hushed silence, I suppose - the adventure, but I started to get anxious and panicked and the trees felt like they were closing in on me, claustrophobia. The young branches looked like a web spreading out above and around me. We finally made it out from the trees up onto open ground.

When I walk, it is for the experience of the walk and a place/time to think. Often I become oblivious to the views around me. Because there were so many ups and downs, and I hate going up hills, I focussed on Shawn's footsteps in front of me. If I couldn't see the hill in front of me and it's 'verticalness', then I could just keep walking, each step at a time, until I got to the top. Only then would I look around at the views and my surroundings. It's interesting that many of my drawings are like imaginary landscapes that you look down from above, yet when I am, in real life, at a high point looking down from above, I don't actually take it all in. I love the views, but I don't thrill about them. They're kind of just there, but obviously seem to be important in my drawings, as that is what I draw.

After seeing the first arch in the farm building, we managed to reach two more, the forth one being too far away. Able to sit next to the stone, they were a shelter and marker points for our journey. Pleased to be sharing in the work of Goldsworthy, I think I would have been more excited if I had discovered one of his ephemeral pieces somewhere, such as a pattern of leaves, or a drawing of twigs.

We were right out, almost on our own. There was a lack of humans, but not really. There was a wind farm ahead of us, an aeroplane flying high in the sky, and the odd bleeping of the mobile phone. Hey ho.

I do like walking, both as an exercise and activity. I have been part of three group walks led by Hamish Fulton, whose practice is all about the walk - "no walk, no work" he will say. It was a good walk yesterday and I know I ache a bit today!

Colt Hill Arch

Benbrack Arch with Colt Hill Arch in the distance

Walking up toward Colt Hill Arch

Blog 10

We have just travelled 1700 miles, driving through 5 countries in all. I have been in my pod, skimming the earth's surface. I could talk about particular sights we saw, but I am more interested in the experience of the journey, memories, feelings, emotional attachment and detachment.

I drifted along, in a kind of daze, a lot of the time. Sleeping, listening to music, both of us singing at the top of our voices, to relieve the momentous of the road in front of us. All sorts of thoughts and random discussions taking place, individually, silently, verbally. I don't like to read when I'm travelling, in case I might miss out on something. It also allows for a more free associative experience.

Due to longer daylight hours we were able to travel further before it got dark, shortening the overall time of travelling. It made me think about mathematical time and distance, verses actual time and distance. Complex.

Staying in motorway service stations most of the way through Europe, I felt like I was in a kind of no-man's land. We were a strange community of passer's-by, drifting through space. What was everyone's story - where had they come from and where were they going? Like the airport, this non-place seemed soulless, yet was actually full of life and activity.

Travelling through 5 countries means crossing a number of borders and I've been trying to get my head round the concept of land based borders and water based borders. In Europe you can pass from one country to another easily, whereas in the UK it is more difficult being an island surrounded by water. In Europe it can be spontaneous, whereas in the UK it involves some planning, to cross a border. Water can be a good defence mechanism etc. etc. but what effect does it have on the larger scale of human relationships? Individualism. Isolation. Inclusion.

Of course, memories, language, cultural differences, habitation etc. all come into play when you travel long distances. Four months is the longest I had ever been away from England and I wondered how this length of time would effect my memory ability. What would I remember or forget, and the strength of the remembering or forgetting? How does time effect memory? And in relation and comparison to my recent experiences in Europe and Portugal versus England?

Other more immediate responses to travelling include the landscape, temperature (weather) and sound. Maybe something to talk about another time.

Where we are staying at the moment is lovely and I am still pining for Portugal.

Blog 9

The Interior of our Van / Spaces that I inhabit

We had the full-on de-clutter on Friday - books, cupboards, draws, clothes, equipment, the lot, and the van looks more tidy now, even though nothing visually has really changed. I feel more organised, in control and ready. Ready for what. And the beauty of our van is that this task doesn't take too long, as we only have a finite amount of 'stuff' and a finite amount of space to put 'stuff' in. The longer we travel, the more we realize what we need and what we can do without and we are certainly not at Pam and Gary's level yet!

One of my favourite books is by French philosopher Gaston Bachelard called The Poetics of Space. First published in 1958, to describe the book I will quote from the back cover,
" ... one of the most appealing and lyrical explorations of home. Bachelard takes us on a journey, from cellar to attic, to show how our perceptions of houses and other shelters shape our thoughts, memories, and dreams".

Whatever and wherever a home might be, Bachelard beautifully describes the home in terms of it's layout and design, storage of belongings, spaces we inhabit and move around in, size - from the intimate to the immeasurable, order and disorder. In the book, Bachelard writes about the differences between inside and outside and the sense of being and not being, discussing the metaphysical aspects and nature of existence.

What is 'home'? What does 'home' mean to you?

I have done a small drawing of the interior of our van and I was thinking about what parts of it I inhabit, be it sleeping, sitting down, eating, cooking etc. I have 7 metres by 2.4 metres to play with. That is for both of us, besides the infinity of outside. When we change location, I might change where I sit. It's not just about the view, but something much deeper.

We are all creatures of habit, even Shawn and I, even though we lead a more 'care free' life. Personal habits, shared habits, public habits. Think about what habits you have. Some of your habits will make you cross, other habits you have will make you smile, and some of your habits might make you cringe...

I am currently reading Wanderlust A History of Walking by Rebecca Solnit. She talks about how in contemporary society, we don't walk like we used to and we move from one interior to another interior by mechanical transport. I am guilty of this. I might spend 3-4 days in the van, and move from the van to the car to the supermarket. I walked a lot when we were touring the UK, but the last 4 months I have been pre-occupied with other pursuits. At our next destination, I must walk out more often.

This latest blog really links back to my thoughts about pods and cells, movement and contrasts in Blog 6. It is also about spaciality.

When I draw it reflects my mental state and how I am feeling at a certain time. My creativity will be influenced by my surroundings. The schematic drawing at the top explores divisions and links between spaces, connections and separations, the inside and outside. Blank spaces are often seen as a negative spaces or voids, suggesting emptiness or loss, but I like the quote from artist Tania Kovats who describes blank spaces like "... a subject being suspended in time as well as space, removed from the world for quiet contemplation".

The black dots look like they are quivering in the blank spaces and describe parts of the whole space that I inhabit the most, or move around in. Perhaps they portray a sensation of claustrophobia or a fear of confined spaces. As artist Louise Bourgeoise once said in an interview "I love claustrophobic spaces. At least you know your limits".

I love our van, my home. It is my shelter. We do have some 'stuff' stored in England, but everything I own, for daily living, is with me. I am like a snail carrying her shell on her back. It's like a big handbag or box. What do you carry in your box?

Book references:

The Poetics of Space  Gaston Bachelard

Wonderlust A History of Walking Rebecca Solnit

The Drawing Book Tania Kovats

Blog 8

I have started the de-cluttering process. I've been through all my box files and thrown out a bin full of paper. I only did this last Autumn, and I feel clearer again about what I am interested in and what my subject matter is.

I've also written a 'To do' list with short, mid and long term goals. They don't all need to be achieved, but it gives me a frame work to follow. I have still yet to write a brief about what I would actually like to make.

We have even talked about the possibilities for me to rent a studio space for a short while.

I've just finished reading Kevin McCloud's Grand Tour of Europe. We saw the TV series in 2009. Going on a 'Grand Tour' is a familiar phrase. Historically, the original Grand Tour era ran from the mid 16th to the mid 18th centuries, and I was particularly interested in why people took this trip and why we travel today. It seems that the past traveller's aspired to the same desires of today, albeit in a more scholarly manner.

The Grand Tourist wanted enlightenment, 'intellectual independence' (I like that phrase), the opportunity to gain knowledge and first hand experience of a place. It would be a research trip, a kind of training to broaden one's horizon. Grand Tourists wanted to trade as well as study architecture, art, music and antiquities. Often it was a pilgrimage, religious or otherwise; a route to follow myths and legends. A challenge and an adventure to do something different. The Grand Tourist liked to mix with the locals, be part of a different culture, taste new culinary delights (or not) and indulge in sexual activity and drinking.

Stopping in one place for a longer period of time has allowed Shawn and I to make new friends. There is Catherine and Michael, both in their seventies who have been travelling Europe for the last twenty years, often months at a time.

Brian and Mary who we have just met, are both in their seventies. They have been camping all their adult life starting with a tent and now with a mobile home. Brian has always written a diary and recently they retraced an old trip through France. They have no intentions of giving up.

We've also heard about Pam and Gary. A younger couple in their fifties, they have got the simple life down to an art. They live in a small caravan, walk everywhere, buy fresh food each day for their meals and only have two sets of clothes, one for wearing whilst the other is in the wash. I would love to meet them and hear their story.

Gary, the campsite owner has said, one thing he realizes is that this lifestyle keeps you younger, healthier and fitter with a much better outlook on on life and he has seen it time and again with his guests.

Shawn and I briefly spoke yesterday about why we are doing what we are doing. I think it is this sense of a nomadic life. Certainly a life style, we love the freedom of mobility. Even if we end up staying in one place for six months or a year, we can move on without complicated ties.

Certainly in the western world, we have become an individualistic society. Shawn and I are part of that modern individualism, but we depend less on society to support it. I mean things like services - electricity, fuel, wealth and such like.

Its interesting, we are now more stable as a couple living in an unstable environment, than when we lived in a very stable environment, when we were less stable in our relationship.

For both of us it is a life style choice first (which may change as time develops), and location choice is second. For Shawn it is more an external experience and for me more an internal experience. It will be interesting how we develop!

I would like to think I am more tolerable of other people and less stereo-typical critical of those who are different to me. I feel more aware of being an EU citizen, something which I wasn't aware of before I left the UK.

Blog 7

Decisions. Decisions.

I haven't done any practical work for the last two weeks as we have been busy and I'm feeling a bit twitchy.

I've been reading the February issues of a-n magazine and Art Monthly. Both journals emphasize technology. It seems to be the buzz word at the moment. Blogging. Facebook. Tweets. YouTube. The internet is something I've been looking at myself, a useful media tool for someone who is often working in isolation.

I think I need what's known as artist' surgery, where you meet with an arts professional and discuss your practice, both it's strengths and weaknesses, explore new ideas and objectives with the eyes of an outsider. I have two thoughts running through my brain...

Firstly, should I try and sell some of my work via my website, and how do I go about this in a practical and cost effective way? Providing a product range and setting up PayPal doesn't seem too difficult, but my concern is how to ship artworks out to the customer, particularly if I'm working from a temporary or remote location? Please, if anyone could advise me on this.

Secondly, I would like to set myself a simple brief, or a set of parameters, in order to develop a series of new artworks, but what should that be? I've seen a couple of examples that have re-prompted this.

We went to Galeria Pedro Cera in Lisbon two weeks ago and I saw the works of artist Paulo Quintas. He is a painter who develops his paintings by using two paint colours and the canvas frame, his own bodily actions and just these materials to create a series of works.

Reading about Lu Qing in Art Monthly, she is the artist who is married to Ai Wewei, who has created Sunflower Seeds at Tate Modern. Qing sets herself the task of taking a long piece of silk fabric and painting on it over the course of a year. She starts a new piece of fabric at the beginning of each year.

Both simple briefs. Process led. Meditative. Risky?

When I worked in the food industry we had to write HACCP plans. HACCP stands for Hazard Analysis Critical Control Points. For example, if a customer liked product 'B', then actions 'C', 'D' and 'E' would take place. If the customer liked product 'B' but wanted changes made, then 'D' and 'E' might happen but action 'C' wouldn't, and so on and so forth. Conversely, if the customer didn't like product B then you would revert back to the beginning 'A' and start all over again. The Critical Control Points were the routes or actions that you took at the most crucial time.

Art development is like a HACCP plan. All our daily actions in life are like a HACCP plan.

Decisions. Choices. Obligations. Risks.

Returning to technology, there was an artist recently who used the internet to create a drawing, where the audience texted in what she should draw next. Once the drawing was complete, she then sold it (I think).
Hmmm.

Certainly in terms of my drawing brief, perhaps it should revolve around dots and holes. That seems to be my obsession at the moment.