19th February 2010
Friday, 4am – Fire starts in offices at rear of Green Door Studios where I have studio space. It spreads into the studios and fire engines are called to Kendfal from across South Cumbria, an aerial crane being brought from Barrow.
The fire spreads and devastates the studios. All my work related to the SwimCircle project is not burnt but is exposed to smoke, water from the fire fighters and after the roof has to be ripped off, falling slates and debris and whatever the weather brings to the exposed building.
Over the next few days we learn it could be arson but nobody can get into the building because its fabric is damaged. Even the police can’t complete their scenes of crime enquiry.
Such an intrusion into the process of the swimcircle must be considered and reacted to. It seems everything in the studios for each artist is lost. All my work over the last ten years that was stored in my studio appears gone, although its still standing locked in an unsafe building.
The impact of this on the project for me is as yet unknown. But already I know I want some burnt timber and ash from the fire to use as pigment.
Whilst others studio members reel from the loss of work, equipment and livelihood, I can see new ideas for future work. Its like a forest fire creating space for new growth.
See the Green Door rising blog for more comments about the studio fire.
www.a-n.co.uk/p/608734/
Paul
Loweswater 29.1.10
It is impossible for us to be here and not remember our first efforts in ‘Swimming Home’ a couple of years ago on a warm summer day:
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Now it is midwinter and the other side of the year. We walk in and arrive at the same place on the shore. Paul immerses himself in the lake, while I immerse myself in preparations for transforming a tree, a tree whose fruits are to be painted stones.
I paint the stones while snow settles on them and reflect that bathing in a tarn is best, but bathing or immersing myself in the performance of art is good also – ‘dipping’ into ‘Swim Circle’ has that same invigorating and transforming effect. Even thinking about ‘Swim Circle’ while engaged on some mundane task – washing up – has that effect on me – this is the power of ‘art’?
We are engaged on a project whose fruits are memorable experiences; and these are organised into a frame of mind, a structure of meaning – Swim Circle.
When we finish we walk away from the shore and into the woods, two walkers pass us – it is grim weather and their demeanours seem to increase the general grimness of the day. Our fantasy is that they walk along and discover the pieces we have constructed and that their discovery starts them talking, so that they feel uplifted – their day is redeemed and enlarged by our work – they are happy, we are happy, our experience has had a positive effect on theirs.
We skulk around in the trees trying to see what they do, trying to confirm our fantasy. They definitely stop in the vicinity of the work – beyond that all is guess work. They talk? About what? About the two pieces of work or what they see as litter? Are they outraged or appreciative. But then maybe art should evoke outrage?
They move on and we walk back along the shore in a cloud of unknowing. All this has to find its place in the ‘big picture’ – Swim Circle.
Richard
Loweswater 29th January 2010
After another pause in the swim circle’s progress, this time due to the severe weather, again we’re back on track and heading for Loweswater. The first swim of 2010. Loweswater was also the first swim of last year’s Swimming Home project and we walked to the same point where we swam across the lake and back. This time the water is barely 4C and a snowstorm is about to start. It could only be a symbolic submersion for a few minutes.
It felt good to be making progress once again. On either side of the entry point we whipped a stone from the last swim to the branch of a tree and hung painted stones above and trailing into the water. We had made a gate through which the water had been entered.
The snow, when it came, came horizontally and marked all the trees in the wood that came down to the water’s edge. The far side of the water and the surrounding hills were lost in the blizzard. After the snow ran out, the sky cleared into bright sunlight and lit the mountains for the rest of the afternoon.
We left the stones in place, wondering how they would be received by those that came across them. As we were leaving, two sullen walkers came by, avoiding eye contact with each other, perhaps after an argument. Would they see our gateway or would they walk by angrily unaware? We watched them through the trees. We saw them stop and look. Perhaps they started talking because of their discovery. Art can change perceptions and lives.
Paul
