Finding the form that would reflect the scale of the event, and the complexity of the story, somehow weaving the multitude of voices into a readable narrative sequence and giving that sequence a physical shape – these were the problems that obsessed me at the start of this project. Making Thames to Dunkirk began, as all my work does, with finding the right text. Then I could see what form the work would take.
Since my installation in the Southbank Centre’s Poetry Library in 2008, I’ve been making a lot of artist’s books – or book art, anyway, artworks in the form of books, but one-off, unique signed objects, each with its own purpose and integrity, though related in the sequence of works. So the idea of a book was already there – but it would clearly have to be a huge one. And how to draw so many stories together, including the hidden voices, the otherwise untold, without losing the integrity of the work? Virginia Woolf again gave me the idea: in a letter to Stephen Spender, she wrote:
‘I should like to write four lines at a time, describing the same feeling, as a musician does; because it always seems to me that things are going on at so many different levels simultaneously.’
I decided to make the work as a concertina book through which four lines of meaning could flow simultaneously, coming in and out of focus as the sequence progressed, but coexisting in a parity of importance throughout. This would combine the linear sequence of the narrative flow with a more complex interweaving of the meanings.
The four lines I decided on were 1) An eye-witness account in a man’s voice, lettered in a font I designed from a 1940 tyewritten letter (this text is Dunkirk by BG Bonallack); 2) A more allusive contemplative considered response in a woman’s voice, lettered with a driftwood pen (this text is by Virginia Woolf, from The Waves); 3) A watercolour river of boats, representing not only the rescuers but all non-combatants who were/are inevitably nevertheless involved; and 4) the long strand of Dunkirk beaches and town in watercolour, with the names of some who were there representing all 300,000.
Once I had this form to work with, the composition was a matter of page-by-page layout, working with a map of the Thames for the river, 1940’s photographs of Dunkirk from the air for the landscapes, and photos of the queuing troops for the compositions on the beaches. I made a small (!) version to get everything ready, which turned out to be over 5m long when opened out, so I knew it was going to be a big job. Next time I’ll write about some of the problems I encountered and what I did about them.
On the progress of the installation, I’m very excited to see that a lot of people have already visited The Dunkirk Project at http://thedunkirkproject.wordpress.com – I hope they’ll be coming back for the story unfolding daily on 26th May to 3rd June. I’m inviting contributions, and I’m hoping to hear alternative views from women, non-combatants, pacifists and other dissenters. Any contribution, however small, increases the scope.
