There is something quite special about working by the stream. I enjoyed sitting there and picking apart my thoughts about the landscape and it’s boundaries. I had been thinking about boundaries as a notion contracted by man. Questioning whether they really do exist outside of the mind. The edge of a plot of land may be marked on a map, but physically- other than signs or markers, they are not really a physical thing; are they? We stick to the paths that we are told we are allowed to follow, but there is nothing really stopping us from crossing the perceived boundary. This all felt very relevant, especially with the constant images of tragedy imposed by borders with the current refugee crisis. Why do we hold on to our borders in spite of the harm that it causes others?
As I sat under the tree that had become ‘my’ tree, (I had sat with this tree every day throughout my residency) I realised that although I wasn’t in fact sat on my land, I had developed a sense of ownership. This space, through invested time had become my space. I felt territorial about it- particularly with the tree. It is a grand old Oak tree and so with my romantic view of trees I felt that it was some kind of guardian. It stands on the edge of the stream, which marks the boundary of the farm; and so I wonder how the tree, through it’s hundreds of years of life, has witnessed the movement of these boundaries. This relationship I had built with this tree was one built out of repetition of action. It reminded me of a previous work of mine in which the repeated daily visit of a tree became a pilgrimage for me. The tree became a site of meditation, and I realise that this was relevant in what I was doing here alongside the stream. Recognising this connection I felt that I had to use this tree as a site to explore these thoughts. The bark of the tree was thick and chunky. The deep cracks reminded me of stretch marks! Marked as a result of growth, which is as a result of action- just like the stretch marks of the body. Growth in the form of the physical and of the experiential. They then seems to me to be like a map, full of boundaries and edges.
How could I work with this? I thought about my walk to the tree. I had to pass through a field of sheep, and I always liked to notice how the boundaries of the field had been marked by the sheep’s wool. I like how this was a marker for an action. The rubbing of the sheep with an itch against the fence; the fence as a net that catches the wool that was temporarily in flight whilst riding the wind. These actions that despite me not witnessing, they happened in my mind; and that was recalled every time I saw the wool on the wire.
I thought about how this could work as a material to combine with the bark of the tree- it would speak of an action, but instead of a sheep rubbing itself on the fence it would be me placing it in the bark of the old Oak tree. It would suggest the action of me visiting, selecting and placing, bringing the presence of man (well, woman!) into the mind of the viewer, and also recognising the tree which has stood for hundreds of years. It is symbolic for time gone by. It is a historical marker.
