Working on my writing today, I had a moment of joy after transcribing & then randomising my mountain record journal, and seeing what came from that.
Some strange (very strange) and heart-catching beauty has been revealed, and I feel like I can do something wonderful with bits of it, (ie. combining parts of the text with my drawings or prints, as part of my book of the mountain).
Here are three examples:
Golden light, ravens, later
Surpassing beautiful. Sky
in flocks, closing the day low
Such cold. Such
water, black peat opened
All quiet and softened
on its shoulders. Colours
high blue clear.
East. Northwind cold like a knife
Stillness. A raven lifting up
moon through haze. Quiet and
on the other side.
but it must be the clouds
lit as we leave.
Storm coming tonight.
yellow to blue above.
south of west, north of
West. All dampness. Colours
out the voices of the others.
and gorse, greens and reds bruised
glow up as the light dims.
Paying respect to this, the
beauty. What does it mean?
High cloud, brittle ice,
Sun setting yellow
These photos are from a visit to the Welsh Quilt Centre in Lampeter in 2018. These are quilts to inspire, made by itinerant quilt-making women.
I am writing. And I am modelling my writing on a quilt that I once saw. I don’t know how she made hers. But I start with pieces and colours, and sort them into piles. I place the fragments as best I can. I cut the shapes to fit. I sew them in side-by-side. I work and rework every inch. It takes a long time and I train my patience on it.
My quilt will tell a story about my skills. I admit that it is a bit raggedy. There are a few holes and the shape is not true, the colours are off in places.
My quilt will tell a story about my history and my hopes. So it will have beautiful moments and it will have ugly lumps.
My quilt will speak from the fragments of time that I inhabit. It will be a work of repair from a time where repair is a calling.
And because it is a quilt from this time, it will be a quilt where contradictions meet and fail to meet. There will be patterns and there will be places where the patterns dissolve.
My quilt will be a work to keep us warm and bring us joy.
I am writing. And when I am finished with writing this quilt, I will start another.
Today I am grateful To you Full Moon and North Wind for showing yourselves.
And I am still grateful for the fingerless gloves which were a glorious gift Knitted for me in soft moss-green wool and repaired with silver green around the thumb-holes.
Also I am grateful for The Christmas cake recipe given to me a long time ago Which I keep in a plastic sleeve in a folder in the kitchen And which I adapt and alter so much That the only thing which stays the same each year Is that it is always such a very good cake.
Mynydd Llangyndeyrn was misted low into cloud with Westerly sideways-driving rain yesterday evening. No sunset, no once-in-a-lifetime astronomy event, no birds or animals to be seen or heard, only the chance to feel the air, to become cold and wet, to listen to the rain, and to watch the evening greying down to dimness and disappearing.
It was strangely joyful and lovely, and when I got home I was inspired to make home-made mince-pie mix for the holidays, and roasted vegetables for food tonight – just for the pure joy of contrast of cosy-inside-kitchen-world to damp-outside-mountain-world.
As I left the street lights started to come on one by one. I love that moment.
Hope is also a verb, an action, (not a thing that you feel) and this means that it is on a different axis to optimism and pessimism (and also anxiety) – to my mind, this distinction is important to notice and pay attention to, here in the dark months.
These photographs are taken with a mobile phone camera this evening on Mynydd Llangyndeyrn.
In digital photography, something called ‘noise’ appears in photographs taken at low light levels, making the image grainy.
What we are seeing as graininess is randomness in the image. Either the constantly present randomness in photography – a question of which particular light photons hit the camera sensor in the instant that the photograph is taken; or digital randomness caused by electronic noise from the sensor and the device itself. The conditions were dark this evening, therefore my camera was not able to collect a lot of light, so the randomness or ‘noise’ – which is always present – was this evening overpowering the image or ‘signal’, and the photos were grainy.
I am finding that I am very interested in grainy photographs, and have been deliberately making them – and also experimenting with introducing extra noise into videos and images.
I think especially, I am interested in how low light levels start to break down the camera’s ability to make images, and I find it so interesting to compare that with my own gradual loss of vision over a period of half an hour or so, as the night draws across the mountain from the east.
I have recently been doing some reading about vision and perception, and today re-reading and wrestling with a part about information and noise in perception. These walks on the mountain, and the images that I am making are helping me with making my understanding more practical.
One author I am reading, called Mark Taylor, explains aspects of the neurology of perception, and says that in our perceptual processes, information emerges from noise through progressive processes of ‘screening’.
He also says:
“There is no such thing as absolute noise; or, in different terms, chaos is not the complete lack of order but an alternative configuration that generates static for established schemata. Noise is information in the process of formation. What counts as noise and passes for information is relative to the level at which processing occurs.” (Mark Taylor: Refiguring the Spiritual)
The author points out a number of interesting aspects of these screening processes. Firstly, that the unfiltered data (the light in vision), which is not a ‘complete lack of order’, holds patterns that ‘sculpt’ the eye and brain. Secondly, that when information passes through our perceptual and cognitive screens or filters, the filtered parts do not ‘disappear’, but create resonances which ‘cannot be clearly articulated’. The author likens this to a penumbra, the partial or fuzzy area on the edge of a shadow, between shadowed and lit places. Thirdly, the structures of the filter, the structures distributed across the brain, very much influence and determine the perceptual experience – so seeing both takes a little time, and is made possible through accessing and using memory of past experiences.
This gives what I think is a very interesting model of how perception and thinking work, which the author states is very different from the ‘traditional philosophy of the cogito that informs much of modern philosophy.’
It is a model which includes a ‘cognitive unconscious’. (A way of describing these incredibly complex networks and processes of filtering and processing the information (and noise) which happen outside of conscious awareness).
The model is non dualistic – it doesn’t divide things up into mind and matter. It treats the various processes: light, chemical, mental, as similar – ie. as information and screening processes. Consciousness, thinking, is understood in this model as something which is an ’emergent phenomenon’ of these information processes.