Lincoln Digital Residency

Is it possible to be artist in residence in two places at the same time? I’m about to find out.

I’m at the critical stage of the Lincoln residency. The film, Place Setting, has been made and re-made and I think I’m nearly happy with it. I showed a version to Saira Lloyd of Synapse Arts last week and will be showing a different and improved version to Maggie Warren at The Collection at Lincoln next week. I’m finally feeling everything is now in the right place and that it flows without being too predictable.

I’m also making a Gallery guide with ever increasing pages. The only way I will know if it works is to stand in the gallery where the film is being shown and see if it can be read in low light levels. Then the Charles Norman Collection images and my film need to go on YouTube. The writing has to be done. Artist statement, introduction to the film, talks and powerpoint presentations. I could go on … After seeing Saira I will be busy until next July!

This is all positive of course but I have to be careful not to spread myself too thinly, because on the 3rd October I will also be artist in residence – with my friend Helen Williams – in the Fine Art Dept of the University of Nottingham. Thank goodness I don’t have to be in both places at the same time or I would be spread very thin indeed!

To add to the excitment Socket are exhibiting at Deda in Derby from 2nd November – 23rd December. Months ago I volunteered to curate it. Any day now images and dimensions will start pouring into my inbox from nine other artists for me to assemble into some sort of coherence.

Thank goodness I’ve done the art for that … Phew!

Duke’s Wood in Eakring, Nottingham used to be an oilfield in the 1940s. Americans were secretly brought in and produced 60,150 tons of crude oil in one year for the war effort. It is now a much recovered nature reserve managed by the Wildlife Trust.

The opening weekend of the Duke’s Wood Project was a memorable event. Highlights were the singing of Hanna Tuulikki and the poetry of Alec Finlay and Amy Cutler outside the Bower.

The Bower is a humble open-fronted dwelling built from material collected in the wood. When the poets had finished, Paula stated that she wanted to spend a night in the Bower and was told she could. Her enthusiasm was infectious and before I knew it, I’d invited myself to accompany her. After booking ourselves in, I admitted I had never been camping before!

The night arrived and we were back at Duke’s Wood collecting the keys for the museum from the curator. Only after he left, did we discover that there was no water in the taps! Never mind, this would be basic but we would manage.

Thankfully Paula is a seasoned camper. She had all the cooking equipment and soon had the kettle on. I pulled a neat trick out of the bag with some hot jacket pototoes I’d made earlier. The owls start tu-whit tu-whooing and it’s pitch black by 9pm.

We were worried how cold it might be and I completely overdid the thermals. My socks were so thick I had a job getting into the sleeping bag! I was glad of the hat though.

Eventually I settle down and hope I don’t have to get out before morning … very enjoyable listening to the sounds of the night and the strange accoustics of the nearby wind turbines. Now I know where electronic band Surfacing got their inspiration from. I hear the same sounds that they had played to us the week before all through the night.

At home I hear the sound of the M1 at night and translate it into a noisy river. At quieter times before dawn it seems like classical music.

By midnight the music in the wood builds up into a cacophony of noise. The wind is roaring around us through the trees like a train. It’s as though we have surround sound. That’s the oddest part. I realised I’d only heard sounds through a window before. It felt like I had been missing something. The Bower withstood all this with ease, there was not even a rustle from it.

Apart from the odd bough snapping and creaking, outside the night passes without disturbance until an almighty screech wrenches us from sleep. An owl is on a nearby tree and is urgently calling for its partner who doesn’t reply.

We had also heard shooting in the far distance but I’m certain the badgers were safe for the night in our wood. I would do it again!

I’m continuing to work on the film. It is a constant series of decisions of which location to start with, what to end with and how to order everything inbetween.

Twentysix photographs are the counterparts to the paintings on the porcelain in the Charles Norman Collection. These images have been edited to look like postcards. I decided on postcards because I felt that the 18th Century artists had produced not only decorative designs for tea sets but they had also written a road map of tourist attractions that are still relevent today. I also thought that the postcards would help the viewer to differentiate between the listed locations and the general images taken in the same area.

For the place names on the postcards I’ve used the same font as in the Charles Norman Collection book. Some of the names are spelt differently now, so Allestry near Derby is Allestree as we know it today. I have kept the old spellings to allude to the past even though the images are contemporary.

For my first draft of the film I assembled the photos in an order that was aesthetically pleasing but I found this wasn’t the right structure. Something was wrong with the flow. The film had a meandering about it that I didn’t like and it seemed to be because I’d varied the amount of images after each postcard.

The film is silent with a small amount of video. It needs a structure that is not too predictable. I felt that if I used a series of numbers to equate to the images I might find a sort of musicality or visual poetry that although elusive to the viewer might make it more visually pleasing. Maths is not my thing, but it works in an invisible way in nature and so why not in filmaking ? It’s worth a try.

So, by trial and error I’m working through different numeric sequences, which I shall then repeat as sets until I find the rythym I’m looking for.

This must be the centre of Radbourne because the sign says ‘Church’. We drive down a narrow lane and it seems like straight into someone’s garden. We turn around and try again on foot . This time we find a gate and then the smallest church imaginable. We walk on without comment and find ourselves on the footpath to Radbourne Hall. It’s the most glorious evening with very unusual vertical cloud formations. One of Radbourne Hall’s claim to fame is that Erasmus Darwin lived here in 1781 after he married Elizabeth Pope.

It wasn’t the church or Radbourne Hall that brought the artist ‘Jockey’ Hill here. It was a humble farmhouse. Did he have a friend or aquaintance there?

We have already circled the village, me on foot and Gareth cruising behind me in the car. I’m afraid that if someone sees me poking my camera through hedges and peeping over their walls I will be arrested. I might need a quick getaway. I’ve already set off all the dogs barking in the area!

I find one farm that is the mirror image to the one on the teacup. The house, barn and stable are perfect but completely the wrong way round. I flip the image over on Photoshop in my mind. Yes, it almost fits. Thankfully my conscience steps in and stops me from doing the deed.

Perhaps the heat is getting to me, making me desperate for a drink. This time I have to admit defeat. I can’t find the farm I want. This one is so similar to the one in my picture that I feel it will serve the purpose.

We sit outside the pub and I drink my badly needed half-pint. Gareth is treated to an idylic view of the surrounding countryside whilst I have the opportunity to appreciate the view to the right.

I kept looking at the ‘Near Wirksworth’ picture painted on a saucer and putting it to the bottom of the pile. I thought I would never find the location. It has a building on it with tall chimneys, a hill and a road. Two men walking along it have stopped for a chat. They look like workers. Could it be a mill ?

I’m not familiar with Wirksworth. Every year I say I will go to the Wirksworth Festival and every year something stops me. Not this year though. My friend Paula McCann is exhibiting there next weekend so I’m going on the 7th September.

I can’t wait that long to find this building though. Time is of the essence as I’m already two thirds through my residency.

I do an internet search for 18th Century mills in Wirksworth, then an image search. Hey presto! I can barely believe my luck. It is still standing.

Haarlem Mill was built for spinning cotton by Richard Arkwright between 1777-1780. It may be the earliest factory to house a steam engine. Later, it was to become George Elliot’s inspiration for ‘The Mill on the Floss’.

An hour later and I’m standing outside the Grade II listed building grinning like a Cheshire cat. I check from picture to view and back again. Yes, it is the one. This project should carry a health warning. I’m completely addicted to finding more places !

There’s a mystery though. The mill house that stands alongside wasn’t built until 1858 according to English Heritage and yet it appears to be part of the picture Jockey Hill painted. I would like to dig deeper into this intrigue but time doesn’t allow for it at the moment.

Also, a notable difference is the height of the road. It’s much higher than in the picture. I suppose being on the main Derby to Wirksworth road it has been re-surfaced many times in the past 200 years. I remember seeing a picture of the historic Bromley House Library on Angel Row in Nottingam when it was built in 1752. It had five steps then and now it has two. It’s a strange thought that roads and pavement heights are slowly increasing around us.

Enough of this dreaming, I have a film to make.

Oh, and being very committed to my art and gaining the full ‘landscape’ experience, I have agreed to sleep in a Bower in a wood for the night…