Blog written on Inishlacken dated 25th June 2007
Very tired.
Extremely windy outside and choppy sea. Wondering if the boat will get here ok as several people are leaving; only five of us will remain.
Had planned to make the third memorial piece today but it requires the lighting of candles outdoors so may have to wait until the wind drops. I have placed the candles in their positions ready for action just in case.
Last nights meal was delicious. Padriag (I think that is his name) caught around 30 mackerel in his nets on the way over from the mainland and these were gutted and cooked on the open fire by Eamon. Accompanied by garlic potatoes and washed down with red wine , delicious. There was much music too. Irish folk songs and tales from Eamon egged on by Siobhan and music from Kate, the Australian composer who currently lives in Holland.
Its a small world. I found out that Rosie's sister works at Addenbrookes Hospital in Cambridge in the Speech Therapy department – the exact place where I spent two years on a residency in 2004.
Note to recent retrospective blogs.
I was hoping that by writing these blogs once I was back at home, they would keep alive the memory of my Inishlacken adventure. In fact the reverse is happening and each one seems only to serve to remove the experience further into the depths of my mind.
If you look at the dates, my entries are getting further and further apart – a sign of everyday life making a takeover bid inside my head.
I can identify with those who never return either physically or metaphorically to a place once left. I am wondering if this approach keeps the memory pure, unadulterated and unfettered by present happenings that absorb the mind.
Blog written 25th June, mid afternoon
Good conversation has been had today. This may be becaue I was happy(ish) with the work I made and so I am feeling positive, but I also think everyone is really settled into the island routine now, and people are feeling more confident and relaxed with each other.Funding systems are a favourite topic, the comparison between England and other nations. Also the benefit of space to think.
On a more basic note we all agree we are beginning to smell. Washing in the sea does help but not everyone is happy to brave the cold water. I have sympathy for the more recently arrived artists who are trapped in the small cottage each evening with those of us who have been here a few days!
More work ideas are flooding my mind and I have two further pieces that I think I will make. These too will be memorials. Tomorrow I will walk to the highest spot of the island up by the old water tower and remains of the windmill and make a cairn.Both a symbol of achievement – as in walkers reaching a summit – but also as a symbol of existence, seen from all sides of the island. Throughout Irish history, cenotaphs and cairns have been made as memorials to the lost. Although many of these have elaborate celtic decoration, some are simple . They hold an eloquence of meaning by direct statement. Although memorials can have both Pagan or religious roots, for me in simple terms, they mark the spot and it is this aspect that I wish to honour.
Rosie and I have talked about the possibility of an exchange between Ireland and England. My studio is situated in a coastal area and there are some similarities between Roundstone and home. I think this is something that I should pursue once back in England.
Blog written 25th June early morning
I have woken feeling bright, energetic and full of excited anticipation for making. What is it about being an artist that revives the soul and invigorates the mind and body? Is it because of the inherent need to create? Are artists responding to their genetic code? Or is it because artists choose to listen to their inner creative voice more than others? And by responding to a subconscious desire we automatically feel fulfilled and enriched?
After seeing a large pile of sheep fleeces abandoned and wet alongside one of the island tracks I started thinking about the commerciality of living and the need for currency in order to exist. Islanders here led a simple life and yet still maintained (and needed) a trading relationship with the mainland. At its most potent, the economy on Inishlacken thrived. The fish, wool and boat building industry [today the word 'industry' implies big business unlike on Inishlacken, which would have been small] provided much needed commodities. But now, as in many parts of the world today, fish are caught only when quota's allow, boat building is not a viable business and the fleece of a sheep is worthless.
These thoughts form the basis for Memorial to the Islanders II, a performance piece incorporating the fleeces from the sheep of Inishlacken.
Rosie and Una agree to film and shoot stills and the performance is scheduled for later in the day. The weather is wonderful, hot and sunny with a light breeze – perfect. Phil warns me to watch out for ticks in the fleece. It's not advice I relish although I am grateful to him never the less.
The piece goes off ok, its hard to tell when you are the performer. Una seems pleased with the view through the video lens. I will wait until I return home to Suffolk to pass judgment. The video editing will give me ample chance to analyze every second!
We sunbathe afterwards and chat and I feel the skin on my arms begin to burn. The sand is white and the sea an amazing blue, more reminiscent of the Mediterranean than the Atlantic. This is truly an idyllic place on a day like today.
More images of Memorial I
