Kingley Vale – the road to the interior

SPACE
The space in the forest and how it becomes occupied.

The space the tree roots follow, responding to their environment, above ground, ribbon-ing down slopes, root pull and grip as they lift from the ground.

Aware of time and movement.

I follow the animal paths, not the human ones, taking care to avoid treading on new trees and eyes always checking for the adder, that is never there.

Many badger sets on the divide between the yews and the open grassland, i find more higher on the slopes where there is a mix of deciduous and yew.

I film myself drawing with ink in the forest before the rain gets too heavy and I pack up. What does engagement with drawing and the forest look like? It looked anxious. That might have been the cold. Interesting way to observe the process from the outside, use that as an indicator for devising strategies for others to engage with drawing. What about collaborative drawing? Does the writing look different to the drawing experience?

Having reviewed the previous day’s activities writing the blog I began the day with defined strategies, a sort of map of activities to follow. I recognise I’m alternating between working intuitively responding onsite, and defining parameters within which to work. I’m not working to specified outputs.

I considered the Japanese Sumi-e perspectives again, decided to ‘draw’ the views of toad eye, human eye and bird eye. Drawings were with charcoal on one page, and then film, of an unusual ash that had a large branch low to the ground that had grown to a form representative of an arm reaching out. In choosing to record these different perspectives I had to climb up into the tree and onto the branch. Shadows constantly change the appearance of the forms in the forest, I experimented with my shadows putting feet or hands into the image, putting myself into the landscape and subject. This fits well as much of the reflection is subjective.

The pastel drawing:
human eye is the tree itself
toad eye is the leaves on the forest floor
bird eye is the drawing of the light and shadows on the paper cast by the canopy

“As a discursive exploration, drawing is first performative and only second a product, demonstrating a switch of emphasis from the dominance of visual appearance towards a consideration of drawing as an interactive dynamic and as a space of conception and speculation.” TRACEY 2007 p.xix

There is a performative element in the ways the drawings are produced, in how I move through the forest and engage with it. In how I approached the tree constantly checking the ground for snakes, climbed onto it, made shadows and expressed through my body but all in silence. It would be interesting to record this somehow, to help review it.

Drawing with a stick and recording the audio – there was more expression in the mark making sounds than the drawn message which fades on the paper. https://vimeo.com/126368702. Two more attempts had increased soundscape and less visible marks made in the dry earth. https://vimeo.com/126373875. It might be interesting to separate the two, use sound only to express and then draw from the sounds recorded. I started this

There is discomfort in hearing my voice in the films when my voice sounds performative, rather than authentic. How to create authenticity in the responses – is this more viable with a structure to follow or an improvised approach? What approach allows greater authenticity in response?

Japanese Sumi-e can be about drawing the poem, or writing the picture. http://www.sumiesociety.org/whatissumie.php They are about the beauty of the drawn line and the experience of nature. I had found the seventeen syllable haiku limiting in terms of my voice and expression, in her lecture Madoka Mayuzumi commented:

“Haiku is the world’s shortest literary form, consisting of just seventeen syllables. This is why it’s sometimes called “the literature of silence.” In fact, many of Japan’s traditional art forms are built on an aesthetic of reduction, on the principle that less is more. We tend to find the greatest beauty on what is left unsaid, in the rich possibilities of blank space.”

So again there are two opposites: the silent subtle haiku voice and the longer, more expressive and definitive prose. I seem to be defining and combining opposites with the project, text and image; intuitive and prescriptive; inner thoughtscape with outer forestscape. Exploring the possibilities found in the interplay between opposing approaches and ideas.

Base camp is my car, it’s the place I return to from each round of drawing. Tea flask, food, art materials, and time to reflect on each process.

First exercise: to walk fast through the forest and landscape to see how that effects the voice in the work, will a faster more energetic pace make for a more energetic drawing and powerful observations? What does the process do to the work and my experience in the forest? Will use digital recording device to begin to use my voice, to record (and then reflect on) what happens.

I found that:

1. walking at a fast pace meant that when I noticed something of interest I didn’t stop to investigate, felt frustrated at not being able to take those other paths, kept to well known paths as there wasn’t the time to decide whether it was possible to take a different route as by the time I’d thought about it I’d already passed it

2. covered more ground than previous days

3. saw more people

4. felt warmer as most of the paths were not under canopy and in sunshine

5. saw more butterflies that followed me on three long sections of path, mostly peacock

6. used the voice recorder more than drawing

7. the voice had more power in that it had more energetic feelings of frustration (at being on main paths not discovering new ones, time taken to complete the walk when I could be discovering new paths, a sense of rushing through it which felt closed (opposite to being still in the forest feeling open to new sights and experiences)

8. the walk was as insightful: i recognised that I rush through other areas in my life thinking that rushing is the same as moving on and achieving, but it isn’t, it’s just rushing, it just feels like fast energy but the sessions being still in the forest achieved as much if not more in terms of drawing and observation. On reflection I like both. I didn’t like adhering to the main path.

Next exercise I chose to return to one of the sights I’d had to walk past:

Beyond the Ash was a small yew grove, beyond this piles of sawn trees, a firepit in a sunlit cleared ground. Sat here a while. Found burnt wood and drew the sirens. It was important to stop rushing. Drawing from memory. Drawing also with ink and using text.
i kept my promise to return
the sirens kept theirs
i heard their core knock at the wind
the trees are dying

Chalara, ash dieback. The trunk had a knocking sound as the tops clashed, easterly wind. Trees were particularly figurative and alive bar the broken slump-like bark.

There were strange grid patterns, strange to me for I associate trees with more of the patterns of spreading rivulets as in the oak above.

On the main path past the tumuli as you head down the West side it descends through yews. Very little undergrowth and a steep bank down the side. Pattern of trees revealed in their shadows, the strong line of a tree and it’s shadow merge, like who we are and the truths revealed by the marks that we leave. This is an SSI area of countryside, the rule being leave it as you find it, leave nothing behind and leave no trace.

Next exercise: Walk normal pace, upright, swing arms up and down, and step long strides, walk with a sense of power in the body. I walked up the West side this time, through the log ampitheatre, behind the ash that leans on the ground. Found an oak caged in yew, as yews grow slowly I couldn’t know which trees where there first, the oak was much bigger and wider. I saw the leg-like root lifted from the ground first, then looked back to see the oak.

her mightiness caged
in bars of young and needy yew that clung
and squeaked and moaned to the wind
but the wind listened only to her

she rose from the earth knee first
fist followed
chalk scattered the forest floor
she had a promise to keep

In the forest I tried saying then shouting the words I’d written which felt initially nervous. It was windy so not so concerned about visitors hearing. Writing up the text now I’ve added more, the haiku i find a bit limiting, it keeps the voice a whisper and vague whereas with more lines they become more powerful. There is more of the energy of the walk, of frustration and clarity.

Questions:

1. if the walk on the top of the hills gives a ‘bird eye’ view over the forest, the walk in the trees gives ‘human eye’, think about the ‘toad eye’ – traditional Japanese sumi-e painting views. toad eye would be the films from the forest floor. is there another eye, maybe ‘memory and thoughts’ not visible, revealed in the prose. the unspoken in the relationship between myself and the forest, and in the home.

2. on the material process to experiment with: how to combine digital recordings with drawing mediums

3. other drawing exercises to try, think about materials to record experiences, to create opportunities to engage in different ways, eg physical (drawing through touch not sight – following on from last weeks drawing through sound), drawing with found materials, drawing to express what is seen in the forest and what is felt, to write the words first then say them then express the sounds in mark making (on paper and using found materials).

Noticed how cracked the ground was and followed the urge to draw it. Noticed the drawing looked like a map and what if I used the drawing as a map instead of yesterday’s version. First attempt I found the distortion between distance tricky, it worked best by following the turns and not worrying too much if it didn’t match the map. Quickly discovered it was a good tool to get lost with. Came across fallen oaks, a dead nuthatch and included all in the drawings and prose.

I re-used the map, this time locating a different start position on the drawing which took me the furthest from the car. There is greater ease with which text and ideas come with the drawings. The expressions bring a mixture of feelings of excitement and presence. The only fear I felt was when sat next to badger sets.

At home I research the haiku and haiga, i’d been using Japanese ink painting methods to describe the figurative nature of trees in the field I walk the dogs daily. The haiku are about the beauty in nature, what I seem to be expressing is more rustic, less polished, more truthful. Senryu have that quality and are about relationships, so I’m looking into those.

From the car park at West Stoke there is 1-2 mile walk to the entrance to Kingley Vale. An information hut with a map directing visitors through and around the ancient yews to the tumuli at the top. I park just the left of the hut, the car stacked with materials ‘just in case’.
Day 1
I take the chair, sketchbook, a pen, pencil and phone.
I walk off the main path, find a spot, sit and look, then draw what catches my eye. Let the words about this come to mind and use them to write a 5, 7, 5 syllable haiku. Find another spot and repeat.
I notice the words are either a statement about what i’m looking at, or a statement about myself or people i know or  have known in the past. That there is a relationship between me, the forest and others expressed in the words, found in the observational drawing of trees.

Walking in and around the trees I drew a line in the sketchbook, the pen moved at the same pace as I walked, I drew landmark trees and posts, and tried to get lost. I re-drew as I retrod some paths. I questioned whether I was mapping to relocate the trees (a treasure map), or to know my way, be safe, return to the car. Mapping to determine relation between one tree to another, the map allowing me know objects by position. Sitting, drawing, looking, a different knowing takes place. The landmark of the process is the text.

There were visitors, i wanted to avoid being close to people, to find space to be peaceful and unobserved whilst I observed nature. Air blossomed with birdsong. Pheasants scratched and flapped and screetched, they tread very carefully along the ground. Beeflies spotted, and thankfully no snakes. Thoughts about safety, how to create a space safe to discover, how to take risks, to become lost. Everything is noisy or moving or colourful except the trunks and branches of the trees. The line between light and dark, bright green glades and brown earth beneath the yews. A high contrast of colour. I found a goldsworthy’esque circle of stones and sticks and a wamping ash. Each tree of interest I drew with text.

Created three drawing strategies.