A pair of tiny black books, part of my collaborative book project with Suzie Ross. I sat in the sun on a wall by a river with Suzie today, and drew and talked about our project. Very excited to pick these books up from her today, together with some others for me to keep working on.
The next thing for this project will be to make a page here on my website, so that I can show the pieces of work as we are developing them together over the coming months.
The weather has changed overnight with the solstice, cooler air came over, a little rain.
It looks very much like we are heading back to a form of lockdown here in Wales. Its good to remember that uncertainty is also indeterminacy.
‘Stop reading the news, just stay in your lane and keep walking. You know what you are doing, so keep doing it. Covid isn’t going away.’ Young people are unsentimental and wise.
Here is a tiny video clip of a tunnel. Once you look around the tunnel, you notice that it has light in it, and reflections playing on the walls. You notice that a person could find something to look at, something to look forward to, even in a tunnel.
(And there is a secret that I will tell you, which is that if you turn around 180 degrees, you will see that the tunnel is open to the wide beach and the wide sea and the wide sky).
A short video that is influenced by talking with some amazing people in the ‘Akimbo’ creatives workshop, including artist Jamuna Barry – and some writing and images that she made, about the ways in which trees and fungi help one another, or otherwise. Silently, and underground.
I started my daily post today at the end of the long day. I was sitting at my desk looking out of the window at a piece of the after-sunset sky, and I was thinking what can I possibly share by this point in this day? I am depleted, all shared out. I don’t have something to give that would be generous.
So I just opened the sash and I climbed out of the window and I sat on the flat roof with my back to the wall of the house, and I looked out to the west.
I started to listen. First I heard a sparrow in my roof calling. Then there was the song of a blackbird. After that the crows started up in the woods and flying, fussing and settling, their calls echoing across the back gardens. I wondered whether there were bats flying, and I started to watch the wide sky fading behind the woods and the first stars coming through. The light high clouds were streaking and spreading out to the west. I started to feel the cold autumn air on my bare feet, and I noticed that the smell of it was autumn. I started to notice the ordinary sounds of the street, and the lighted windows shining out of the night houses. I started to feel myself at home in my body, in the world.
I climbed back in the window and closed it behind me.