It seemed the most important task today was to clear some space to work after chaos had begun to muddle and disorientate me. It so happened that the walk I took after clearing was itself in the process of clearing.
Having cleared, walked and watched as a clearer view emerge through the play of wind and sun on the moisture in the air, I selected pebbles to use as moulds for little vessels. I am making the vessels with flour paste and artwork recycled from an artist in Turkey who sent them to me some time ago as a package for inspiration. I am pleased to have found the opportunity to incorporate them and grateful to Ceyda for her distant presence just when needed.
After a failed attempt yesterday to use homemade glue to hold together a vessel, I chose the word ‘adhesive’ as my starting point and took it for a walk.
ADHESIVE:
1 For adhesive that allows repositioning – try gravity
– for feet on the ground
– for pebbles that can be relocated by the sea
– for an autumn leaf
2 Semi-permanent fixative
– Roots – they anchor in the soil
– false eyelash glue
– Mud, especially clay
3 Non-reversible fixing:
– Lichen on a wall
– Tarmac to impose a road
– Photosynthesis
4 For fleeting adherence use light, moisture, sound and time
– a shadow
– a call
– writing with water on a dry, smooth pebble
The 2 week residency is in an incredible location – the most westerly house in England. It faces over the sea to Lands End. The South West Coast path heads upward behind the cottage to the summit of Cape Cornwall.
I forget that it takes time to settle into a place, a practice, a relaxed openness of mind. I have been here before, or near here, a year ago. I arrived by bus in the dark a couple of days early for the Cot Valley Residency in November 2023. The next day I walked without a destination in mind and arrived at Cape Cornwall and revisited again as part of the residency a few days later. The 4 day Residency had me thirsting for more time with the rocks, the sea, the seaweed and the raw elements that cut through the inertia I brought with me from the calm flat lands of Cambridgeshire. Today when I had walked from the cottage to St. Just, I retraced that first walk to Cape Cornwall, watching memories being triggered by recognition and a gentle familiarity and at the same time battling with too much head stuff; a raft of self-imposed expectations and doubts.
Then, close to the cottage. Giant rounded pebbles, a piled carpet of seaweed, the mirror water and the sound of the waves. I began.
