I really enjoy lots of explorations, so I'm often testing out different techniques and ideas and looking at ways of layering things together. I move between different resources and techniques, sometimes due to the season and weather and also depending on the natural resources available. I often mono-print with leaves when the season is right, then switch to lino cutting and collagraph at different times of the year. The images in this blog post are some recent printing explorations with several different techniques, including lino cutting, collagraph, mono-printing and geli printing. I've worked with lino, collagraph and mono-printing for many years and love the different possibilities and qualities they all hold. In the last couple of years I've discovered the delights of geli printing, a delightful form of mono-printing where no press is needed (I have access to a couple of great presses with Sherwood Printmakers in Nottingham, when I'm able to get into the studio there, so having a range of other printing techniques that don't need a press is great as they're easier to use in my work space at home). I'm just beginning to experiment with using tetra packs as printing plates and really enjoying the potential there too.
I've been exploring printmaking for many years, working with lots of different techniques, often combing and layering things. I'm especially drawn to techniques that enable lots of possibilities and create lots of different results - things that trigger further ideas and possibilities. I adore it when unexpected things appear. As with all of my work it's ways of exploring connections and responses to nature that deeply interests and drives me. I really enjoy lots of explorations, so I'm often testing out different techniques and ideas and looking at ways of layering things together. I move between different resources and techniques, sometimes due to the season and weather and also depending on the natural resources available. I often mono-print with leaves when the season is right, then switch to lino cutting and collagraph at different times of the year. The images in this blog post are some recent printing explorations with several different techniques, including lino cutting, collagraph, mono-printing and geli printing. I've worked with lino, collagraph and mono-printing for many years and love the different possibilities and qualities they all hold. In the last couple of years I've discovered the delights of geli printing, a delightful form of mono-printing where no press is needed (I have access to a couple of great presses with Sherwood Printmakers in Nottingham, when I'm able to get into the studio there, so having a range of other printing techniques that don't need a press is great as they're easier to use in my work space at home). I'm just beginning to experiment with using tetra packs as printing plates and really enjoying the potential there too.
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Cyanotypes / solar printing - explorations with sunlight and leaves as the seasons change.9/22/2022 There are many processes I use in my work (both the work I create myself and the sessions I run with the groups I work with); solar printing is something I've been exploring for years and really adore. It harks right back to the early development of photography, it invites huge exploration and experimentation and you never know exactly how things will turn out.
The images in this blog post are some recent cyanotypes / solar prints using plants from my garden and images I've taken of local trees (which I've manipulated to work with the cyanotype process). Much as I love my digital SLR camera equipment, I really adore processes like this which are so experimental and connect with early photography. I also really love processes like this where you are working hand in hand with the elements and natural materials: you never quite know how things will turn out I use both cyanotype chemicals and solar inks in this work - the process is the same, just with slightly different light-reactive liquids; they are both forms of alternative photography. You prepare a surface with the light-reactive liquid in a dark space, let the surface dry and then place items onto this surface. You then expose this to natural light so that the UV rays create an image as the light-sensitive surface you've created reacts to the sunlight and parts of the surface are blocked by the items you've placed onto it. Exposure times vary widely - it can take a three or four minutes in incredibly bright summer sun and 20 minutes or more on a cloudy day or low sun. It's a wonderfully unpredictable process - which I find delightful, though you have to be prepared for very many different results. The images below were created at various times of the spring, summer and early autumn: the quality of light and amount of UV present changes, so your exposure times change and you have to adapt constantly. I love working so closely with the elements in processes like this, you never quite know how things will turn out because of the way light changes as the seasons and cloud cover changes. It's one of those processes where there's lots of preparation involved and lots of keeping a close eye on the weather... This process is sometimes referred to as sun printing or solar printing and also as photograms - which is where objects are placed on light-reactive surfaces to leave behind an image once the surface is exposed to UV light. You can use many different things but it's plants that I'm most interested in and which I use in many different processes that I work with. Once the images have dried I use them in different ways and I've been layering them with other prints, with text and with objects. Sometimes I frame them as they are and other times they invite exploration to turn into books or into layered collage and more. Early May 2022 saw the full return of May Bank Holiday Belper Arts Trail, after a couple of years of changes and slimmed down versions of the trail because of the covid pandemic. It was a fantastic event - as always - huge, huge thanks to everyone who came along to support the event and to everyone involved in making it happen. I was so pleased to be back exhibiting in person again and really delighted to be in the wonderful Number 28 community building with a group of other artists. Number 28 is such a great venue, I exhibit in there often with the Arts Markets that happen throughout the year, it's a wonderful building and run in such a lovely way. We were busy the whole time in Number 28 throughout both days of the Arts Trail. I only managed a few quick phone snaps, they're below in this blog post. It felt so wonderful having the Arts Trail happening again, the town was buzzing and the atmosphere was really lovely. One of the things that's so fantastic about events like this is the opportunity to have such great chats and discussions with people about inspirations, ideas, the places where I photograph, about different processes and creativity. I had such lovely chats with people about trees, woodland, the soothing effect of nature, books, stories, creativity and so much more. Huge thanks to everyone who took the time to look at my work and stop to chat. And also huge thanks to everyone who bought work - I know we all are really thankful for each sale. It was really wonderful and special that there was 7 of us exhibiting together, all of our work looked great together and it was such a fantastic combination of glass, ceramics, paintings, prints, photography and more. Huge thanks to Jenny Neale Images, Lumsdale Glass, Highly Crafted, Rebecca Morledge, Inky Conditions and Sarah Miles; all such inspiring artists and lovely people. As well as exhibiting and selling my work in Number 28, I also had work set up in the window of the really lovely Colledges shop which is just across the market place. That was a wonderful venue too and huge thanks to the team there. There were over 120 artists in venues all around the town centre for the Arts Trail, plus live music, pirates, food and more. Huge thanks to Number 28 and Abi and Philippa for running the great cafe, it's such a great venue. And massive thanks to Kelly, Suzanne and the whole team in organising the Arts Trail; it's put together with such care, dedication and hard work. I spent most of May this year (2022) working back in Koli, in Karelia, in Finland, as artist in residence; part of the wonderful on-going programme of residencies organised by the Koli Cultural Committee. This was a follow up to my residency there in September 2018; I had been due to return in April 2020 but the global covid pandemic meant this all had to be put on hold. It was incredibly special and poignant to be back finally and the whole experience took on an even deeper emotional significance than it already would have done. There's lots of images in this blog post (scroll down for more) which I took during my residency: a combination of wonderings in the landscape as winter gave way to spring, of exploring my responses to this in the studio (through layering print, shadow, images, words and projections) of workshops with the village school and through sharing all of this with an open studio event. Koli village lies at the heart of Koli National Park, in Karelia: "Koli is an arena for nature and culture events, a genuine North Karelian countryside village, home to a national park, and a gate to North Karelia, renowned for its food, nature, and happy people". (Koli.fi website). It's a stunning landscape, with the huge Lake Pielinen surrounded by vast forests which are rich in wildlife (which includes tiny rare snails, a huge array of birds and large mammals such as brown bears, lynx, wolves, wolverines and elk). The landscape of Koli has been inspiring creativity for centuries and Koli village has a wonderful rich history of residencies, exhibitions, events and activities; I feel very touched, thankful and humbled to be a tiny part in a long line of creative practitioners working there. The artists residency in Koli is part of the beautiful Kolin Ryynänen building, the whole top floor of the building houses a wonderful light and large studio and a really lovely apartment - the back of the building is at the edge of the forest with the front of the building looking out into the village. The residencies are organised by the fantastic dedicated team of the Koli Cultural Committee; different creative practitioners from around the world spend a month at a time living and working there, creating work with the community and in response to the landscape. My work in Koli in both 2018 and 2022 involved creating responses to my experiences of being in the landscape - through exploring shadows, photography, gathering words and making little books, print making and collage. I spent a lot of time walking and exploring the forest and lake, keeping journals each day; gathering lots of thoughts, ponderings and notes about what I was seeing, hearing and experiencing (which included the beautiful and haunting sounds of snipe – sky goats – at the edge of the forest at dusk). When I arrived at the start of May there was still a lot of snow on the ground and the lakes were still partially frozen. Spring emerged at great speed during May, at a completely different pace to the way spring appears in the UK. Layers upon layers of the landscape were revealed each day, little secrets of the forest appearing... I adore the landscape in Koli, it holds so many tiny layers and the details are wonderful; I'm deeply drawn in by the colours and patterns in the land, finding so many layers of textures, sounds, colours and little snippets of things half hidden. I adore the feelings gathered when out walking in the forest – the really strong sense of things hidden amongst the trees; there are sounds, sudden movements, little glimpses of things; little hints of what might be happening... This, together with the way the light falling amongst the trees casts such interesting shadows and patterns gives a huge sense of a multitude of stories hiding away, you have to look very closely and be incredibly patient to begin to uncover them and even then, the forest keeps secrets… My snow boots were very much needed when I arrived in Finland at the start of May, there were thick patches of snow in very many places and where the snow was melting the ground was incredibly wet and boggy (with fast flowing streams and pools all around). The snow was melting fast - each day new sections of the ground was uncovered and new things revealed - secrets that had been hidden since snow fell in October (Koli is under snow and ice for over half the year). As spring emerged tiny shoots of new growth and delicate small flowers began appearing daily on the forest floor - with intense vivid birdsong. There were intriguing tracks in the snow and scat at the edge of forest paths. I caught glimpses of so many animals all of the time I was out exploring; red squirrels were really busy and visible in the forest trees and hares were all around - in their white winter coats with patches of brown beginning to show. On one walk a tiny lizard was sunbathing on a rock as the May sun burst through - even though the rock was at the edge of a huge patch of snow and it was cold enough that I was wearing lots of layers and a thick woolly hat and gloves. As spring further emerged many bees and butterflies were busy all around, vast forest ant nests were full of movement. The sounds of the landscape were incredibly absorbing - there was so much ice on the lake when I arrived - huge layers of ice floating and knocking against each other creating the most amazing sounds. Within about a week that had all melted though the snow stayed for longer, it was so incredibly thick in places. The sounds of the melting snow fast flowing through the forest in little streams were incredibly hypnotising, it was a soundtrack of the land which changed by the minute. Spring burst out in an intense way which I've never experienced before - it filled all the senses and was amazing to witness. Loud birdsong rang out across the forest constantly, especially at dawn and dusk. A pair of red throated divers were calling loudly from the edges of Lake Pielinen (it's a haunting sound I adore), several kinds of woodpecker were calling and drumming, cuckoos were loudly calling all around (I've never heard so many), snipe and woodcock were calling and flying over the forest edges at dusk, fieldfares and redwings were making their slightly rattling calls throughout the forest and so many other birds were singing. Even birds I'm incredibly familiar with in my own garden in the UK such as blackbirds sounded different in the vast expanse of the Finnish forest. My time there was divided between exploring the landscape, time alone in the studio to research, experiment and create, time with the village school running workshops and an open studio event which included workshops with the community. The workshops I ran with the village school took place both inside and outside, exploring the connections the pupils and staff have with the landscape around them in Koli and looking at the different ways each person engaged with the landscape. The starting point was discussions – through talking, writing and drawing - around why living in Koli feels special and what they each enjoy doing when out in the landscape. They looked at the different things that were important to them when spending time outside. Lots of thoughts, ideas, words and images were gathered and this generated further conversations. I also brought with me lots of questions from the young people I work with in England who were very curious about Finland; their questions formed some really interesting discussions with the pupils and staff in Finland. There were many conversations about the different approaches to time in nature and different ways of engaging with the seasons and elements. Things created with the school pupils included teeny matchbox books, shadow scenes, prints, drawings, words, patterns with natural materials and gathering natural objects that inspired us. The school are incredibly warm and welcoming, the pupils had such wonderful ideas and draw their surroundings so readily and with deep knowledge of what's around them. It's so interesting working with the school in Finland, there's so much to reflect on around the things that are different and the similarities between the Finnish education system and the UK system. My time in the studio in Koli gave me incredibly valued time to reflect, to experiment, to create and to deeply focus. It can be really hard to fully find time for this in the throws of "normal" routine back in the UK where my work commitments are divided between long term projects with several schools, projects with arts organisations, participating in various arts festivals and events, various workshops and delivering activities as well as working with a community garden. The studio in Koli is a wonderful space, it's large, light, warm and welcoming; I feel very at home there. The windows on one side look out to the forest and on the other side to the tiny village, so there's so much to observe and ponder. It's an amazing opportunity to really spread out ideas and thoughts - to arrange things and revisit them, to really pause and reflect. Very quickly I spread out a set of things - including some photographs I'd taken on my previous residency, drawings, paintings, words and objects. I kept journals from the moment of my arrival and began to find ways to layer words and phrases from these with the images I was creating. My residency gave me a lot of (much needed and relished) room for contemplation about flow state - about what it takes to become absorbed in processes and ideas. I realise how rare it can be to fully immerse yourself in this way and the massive difference it can make to your own ideas, creative output and sense of wellbeing when this opportunity is given. There were also several practical things and some creative problem solving to work through; this is always a good challenge but needs time and emotional energy. The studio in Koli is very well equipped, which I deeply value and I had brought a suitcase full of art resources with me (as well as another suitcase full of clothes for the changing weather!). I had many ideas before arriving of the things I wanted to explore, but of course once in Koli and immersed in the setting I kept thinking of other things to use and different bits of equipment that would be useful. I walked in the forest every day that I was there - often walking the same routes again and again because the landscape was changing so much daily as the snow melted and spring burst out. I gathered a set of images of the same places as they changed over the month - it's wonderful looking back on snowy birch forest paths and then seeing how within the space of days the trees have leaves on and the snow has given way to ferns and moss. It was autumn the previous time I was in Koli, so it felt really special revisiting some special places in a very different season. The light was very different - as well as the day length; in May dusk was around 10pm and it never got fully dark; there was a wonderful twilight blue at midnight which hung in the sky until the sun rose around 3am. Much of my work and inspiration centres around natural light and I found myself very much absorbed in exploring shadows at different times of the day and spending a lot of time outside to take in the ways the forest responded to the daylight. I explored several different processes in responding to the landscape - this included photography, print, solar printing, painting, creating little books and shadow projections. I created an installation with textile hangings onto which I printed fallen leaves (using a few leaves which had been buried under the snow and pressed flat by the elements) and then I layered this with text from the journals of my daily walks. Onto all of this I projected a series of images, words and natural objects. I used print a lot and turned much of this into little scrolls, tiny books and collage - which I layered with text and snippets of information from my walks. On my walks I spent a lot of time photographing textures and colour palettes in the forest - the subtle layers and tiny details really pulled me in. In the community workshops I ran we explored mono-printing with leaves and there was a lovely calm creative atmosphere as everyone explored the different possibilities. At the end of my residency I pulled things together in an open studio event - a set of "work and explorations in progress". It was really good to be able to do this, to share ideas with others and to have some really interesting and thoughtful conversations with local people about Koli. The Finns are deep thinkers and I really relish this; there are many opportunities for dialogue which explores deeper issues and enables questions and ideas to be discussed. A huge part of my residency centred around exploring ways that walking, wondering, exploring and pausing to notice can unravel so much and bring deep connection with the landscape (and with yourself). It's rare to have a decent amount of dedicated time to really focus on this and having almost a month in Finland provided so much valued space for contemplative thought. Much of my work in the UK is around trying to advocate for time and space for creativity for the groups I work with (which includes schools, community groups and many different settings), yet it's very hard to fully carve out time for this, the pace of everything in the UK means there are so many complex pulls on our time and energy. Finland has a huge sense of peace, calm and of living life gently, which is woven throughout everything. I could wax lyrical about it endlessly, every time I've worked in Finland I find deeper and deeper layers of inspiration. I'm incredibly drawn to the subtle, muted layers of colour, textures and details in the landscape in Finland; the forests and lakes are full of so many intriguing things, there's a deep sense of mystery about the landscape - connected with the vastness of the land, the lack of people and the quality of light. I love how buildings sit so subtly in the land there, buildings are painted muted earth colours and situated to blend in and be hidden away - because there's a desire to live gently with the landscape. No large ego-driven marks on the landscape, no fences (people respect each others space), it's rare to see huge buildings. The above four photos show the same two places in the forest taken just over 2 weeks apart, on May 13th and then again on May 30th. The transformation in the time I was in Koli throughout May was magical to watch. It went from snow, ice, partially frozen lakes, trees without leaves, sleety rain and needing snow boots... to full on spring-almost-summer. The changes have been rapid and really visible differences each day. Saying goodbye to the forest in Koli was really hard and felt very emotional, it's a deeply inspiring place with so many layers of sights, sounds, smells, feelings and possibilities. There were amazing huge rainbows over the forest just before I left - with magical heavy rain and sun all at the same time as birdsong rang out, I allowed myself to get rather wet as I stood out amongst the birch and pine drinking it all in. It's almost a 2 day journey from home to Koli, there was something soothing about this lengthy journey as I headed home and tried to mentally prepare for the change of pace from the calmness of Finland to the fast and intense pace of the UK. A little bit of time in-between buses and trains in Joensuu provided the opportunity for a couple of inspiring hours exploring. Helsinki Airport was as calm, user-friendly and quirky as ever. Checking in at 5.30am meant the moomin cafe was closed, but I could still admire the children's rocking chairs in there. The Finns really seem to understand the need for children - and adults - to gently move whilst sitting, opportunities for it are all over Finland. I've not got photos of this - but all the long journey was threaded with the slight comedy of me having 2 large suitcases with me on my journey! Koli is an incredibly magical place, huge thanks to everyone involved in enabling this project to happen. The ongoing work of the Koli Cultural Committee is incredibly inspiring, such wonderful projects all centred around connections with the landscape in Koli National Park. I really hope to return again soon and I know that my time there in May will feed into the rest of my work for a very long time to come.
Experimenting with capturing shadows in the garden...
I had been hoping to spend a lot of time in the studio in Koli last month continuing my explorations with projections and shadows and light; but as I couldn't go to Finland and be in the forest there as planned, I've been really drawn to the tiny details in my garden. Lockdown and illness have completely changed the things I had planned for the last couple of months and into the future; schools, workshop and exhibition venues have closed, ways of connecting with others have changed (but never stopped) and ways of creating have had to change too. I'm lucky enough to have a garden, its not big but it's packed with wildlife friendly plants and the details in everything are really intriguing - and whilst spending a lot of time in my garden these past weeks I've been incredibly drawn to the way the light changes throughout the day and how it highlights different things. I've always loved shadows and it's something I experiment with a lot, whether using projections, making puppets and light installations or exploring with sunlight. These shadows are captured on the same sheet of white paper, moving around the garden and exploring the shadows cast by the sun at different angles. There's no filter on these images, they were taken at different times of the day, from early morning until sunset (at sunset the golden light from the setting sun casts some wonderful shadows onto white paper). The out of focus gentle areas become really pleasing to test out and everything changes by the minute as the light changes, so there's that lovely sense of the unexpected that keeps cropping up. These are such unusual times, here in the UK we are in our 5th week of lockdown, it feels like everything has changed so quickly; it's leaving many of us in deep contemplation about all sorts of things. There are layers upon layers of worry, fear, uncertainty, panic and anxiety and then this is all layered together with a different way of looking at and connecting with the world immediately around us and right on our doorsteps. It's definitely giving me huge amounts to contemplate, much of it very mixed things (as it will be for so many) and through it all I'm daily finding myself thankful for the "everyday" connections with nature immediately close at hand. Birdsong, spring flowers appearing, new vivid green leaves, insects feeding, dusk light, buzzards soaring and calling over the garden... Local footpaths are proving a real escape for so many people at the moment and I think lots of us are discovering paths that we either didn't know about or have forgotten about; or we are using familiar pathways in a different way and stopping to really look and notice things. I've been isolating at home for a while and it's only been in the past few days I've been able to get out for some daily exercise and find a bit of strength to explore some of the paths right on my doorstep. I pass the trees in the above photograph (they are on the road into my village) all the time but it's only been this week I've looked deeply at them, from the footpath, with a new way of noticing. The verges are full of amazing wildflowers at the moment, with so many pollinating insects which is wonderful to see. The intense greens of these early spring leaves are really powerful and right now this feels an incredibly strong soothing tonic. I'm letting the dandelions bloom in my garden and I've been watching so many pollinating insects visiting them, the seed heads are really beautiful (and good food for some birds) and I've been looking really closely at the tiny intricate details in those. I should have been back working in Koli in Finland for most of April, continuing my role as artist in residence in the studio at Kolin Ryynanen and working throughout the village and the vast forest surrounding it. I was meant to be in Koli for most of April, exploring the forest to gather impetus for my work, collaborating with the lovely tiny village school and with others in the community there. It was intended to be a really valuable and much needed time for artists development, reflection, gathering ideas, developing and testing new ways of working. Instead, with lockdown and illness I've been at home in Derbyshire, closely exploring the wildlife and plants in my own little garden, looking at tiny details there and gathering impetus which can hopefully feed into future work. These are really complex and difficult times in so many ways. I'm incredibly grateful for having a little wildlife friendly garden and for having footpaths I can access straight from home. I can't get into the ancient hilly bluebell woods that I usually would visit and walk miles in at this time of year because they are a 20 minute drive from home and right now that's not feasible, but at the moment I've been delighted to find clumps of bluebells in the hedgerows and in the village nature reserve. There are very many things we are all struggling to process at the moment but I do think so many of us are finding renewed connections and soothing from the nature on our doorsteps. Early March afternoon light in one of my favourite local places, always magical at any time of the year, there is something particularly uplifting as signs of spring begin to appear; there was even a bat circling around me as I started to pack the camera equipment away.
This is Lumsdale, a real gem here in Derbyshire, a beautiful and quite haunting mix of old buildings, waterfalls, woodland, hills, ponds, pathways, streams and stonework. You can walk for miles exploring this area, it's such an interesting combination of human and natural history - traces of human activity going back hundreds of years. It's a scheduled ancient monument and one which needs treating with care and respect; time there when it's quiet and peaceful is really precious. Places like this which hint at so many stories of the ways people have interacted with the landscape really fascinate me, worn away textures from hands and feet, buildings which have been used for very practical purposes now providing an inspirational trail to explore... The sunlight filters into the steep valley, through the trees and buildings, onto the water and stonework and illuminates so many tiny details. Every time I visit I discover something new... One of the many things I love about winter is the opportunity to catch glimpses of flocks of birds that roost together at dusk - and starling murmurations are something that take your breath away as the birds dance around in the air before going to roost. They are also so much harder to see than they used to be: starlings are in danger and need all the help they can get. As a child the sight of murmurations was much more common but now I'm that much older its something never to be taken for granted and definitely to be celebrated.
On the Peak District moors not too far from where I live there's a fantastic gathering of starlings - the setting is really atmospheric and the numbers are increasing this year. I've managed to get up there a few times so far this winter and the light has been really evocative - but heavy cloudy and rather dim, so not ideal for photographing thousands of fast moving birds. However, though its not been the best light for photographing the murmurations, it's so incredibly atmospheric standing on a wild moor being battered by wind and rain whilst thousands of birds fly in, it's really rather wonderful. It's such an evocative winter thing to be present at - so full of magical sensory experiences with the sounds and feel of the breeze created as the birds pass by as well as the movement and shapes created as they fly. There's something very poignant about being there whilst such a powerful-yet-rare thing happens as thousands of birds come together to form a mass of moving, swirling birds who roost together for protection. It's a wild and high up spot exposed to the elements - and when I was last there two days ago the light was amazing and the heavy clouds rolled in. The starlings arrived in their thousands - at exactly the same time as the rain! It was wonderful to be out in it, though I'm very aware that's all bound up in my knowing there was a warm home to return to and dry out! The sound of thousands of starlings chattering to each other once they were roosting in the reeds is amazing and hard to describe. I find it really uplifting and inspiring being out in the rawness of the elements like that, surrounded by birds and winter light. "Do they have rainbows in Finland?" was a question I was asked today during a really lovely Skype call with the wonderful Nethergate Academy, a special school in Nottingham where I'm resident forest school leader / creative practitioner. Its such a good question and really poetic, it really struck me what a lovely thing that was to ask. All the children at Nethergate asked such great questions, its very special having the technology to do a live link with them, it means a lot. I've been sending lots of images back to them - including many of "mini Baxter" a cuddly toy version of the real Baxter - the school dog. (see if you can spot him in the photos below!).
Colours have been in my head a lot here, the colour palette in the landscape is so rich and I'm deeply drawn to the different colours around me. The colours change all the time depending upon the sun and cloud cover, but there are so many beautiful gentle shades of grey-green-golden-browns with all these intense flecks of deep colours dotted about the forest with fungi, berries and leaves beginning to turn such deep autumnal shades. You could walk endlessly here and notice something different every time, partly because the light changes so much, partly because the colours in the foliage are changing daily and partly because there are so many tiny details to notice... The colours of the landscape are almost summed up by the tiny snippets of detail found on some of the amazing rocks here. I've been spending spent ages looking at lichen and moss, so many wonderful grey-greens with tiny dots of reds, russets and golden yellows... Its like the vast forests with little flecks of intense colour where fungi grow dotted about... And I'm really drawn to the ways the fungi and the tiny parts of the moss are like little vessels holding dew. The arts studio here in Koli is such an inspiring space - and its big, which was slightly daunting in some ways at first but now I feel settled in here I can see just how vital such a space is - it's letting me really spread out and make things, test ideas out and leave things in place so that I can keep tweaking and rearranging (and that all sets other trains of thought off too). The forest is just outside the window and keeps calling out to me; I've begun to settle into a way of dividing my day between sessions with the school, walking in the forest and collecting and time making in the studio. This is my third week here and I'll be heading home at the end of the week, so it will be interesting to see what emerges during the next few days... I definitely feel this is just a beginning of exploring here... I also find it so fascinating watching other people interact with the landscape here. I live close to the Peak District National Park and am out walking there a lot but there are so many differences here with the ways people are so calm and gentle and peaceful in the way they spend time in the land. You can walk for hours here and hardly see another human. On Sunday I walked through the forest to the wonderful Nature Centre at the top of Ukko Koli (the hill top view point which is very well known here) and there were others out and about up there - but it was so peaceful. People here are very careful to ensure they don't intrude with loud noises or behaviour that might cause problems for the land or for others. I've not seen any litter and no dog poo (and definitely no plastic bags of dog poo slung in trees) and people are walking dogs here. People at the hill top view points chat, but its calm - they do it in a way that allows others to enjoy the peaceful landscape and to watch the view without feeling encroached by the behaviour of others. There's fire pits here dotted all around and people just turn up, carefully make a fire, cook some food and then put the fire out and go on their way... Its all so much a part of how people spend their time that it feels so ingrained. I think I must be part moomin really... I've been here in Koli exactly 2 weeks now and there's so many thoughts going round in my mind, so much to ponder... Many things are emerging here in Koli - the landscape keeps revealing different layers of detail, there's a sense of inner discovery, some art work is emerging and the sessions with the lovely village school are revealing all sorts of treasures and ideas found by the pupils. There are lots more photos below. Koli National Park really is a very special place, it has touched me deeply; there's so much to explore that I want to be outside looking and discovering as much as possible. My urge to collect and my love of light is being explored through taking lots of photos and some film footage as well as gathering up little twigs and bits of lichen and looking at ways of layering and holding these... I've been writing lots and collecting words and thoughts connected to my own responses to walks in the forest - and I'm looking at ways of using those... With the school we've been looking at the little treasures around us and collecting things in tiny containers and then unpacking these and seeing what we've each found and what we've been drawn to. Lab 13 have given us some wonderful microscopes to use whilst here too so we've been really loving looking at things up in such close detail. And I find it fascinating seeing what pulls the pupils in. Some really lovely sun here over the past 2 weeks and the children at the school and I have been outside so much - discovering natural treasures, looking at grains, finding different grasses and exploring shadows; they spent ages trying to grind their own flour too and were really interested in that. I will put a further blog post together soon about my work with the school here, there's so much to say - things that happen as a matter of course here are so different to the UK and it really does leave you deep in thought. I was incredibly touched yesterday also to get a skype call through to a wonderful school I work with in Nottingham, I've been sending lots of images back to them and its so lovely having contact going back and forth with the UK. It really feels like a proper exchange of ideas and discoveries. With the school here in Koli and in my own work there's lots of explorations of light and shadow happening. There are lots of wonderful ideas from the children in the school as they test out different shadows created by themselves and natural objects around them. And in my studio space I've been setting up different natural objects that I've collected and things that I've started making and assembling - and exploring ways those catch both the natural sunlight that floods in here but also lights and shadows I'm projecting. I'm trying to look at ways of layering up my thoughts and observations from my long walks in the forest here and to combine those with collected objects. These are all starting points and more exploring is to follow. The artists residency programme here is organised by the Koli Cultural Committee who have such a fantastic programme of work happening - and they've been doing so for very many years. They have been looking after me wonderfully here and made me very welcome indeed. The residency is based at Kolin Ryynanen which is a hub of culture; its a lovely restaurant café bar with exhibition space and a programme of live music, in the centre of the tiny village of Koli. The entire upstairs floor is the artists residency space - with a huge studio area that has windows on 3 sides and then a living apartment and balcony looking out to the forest. There's access to the sauna and fire pit outside (there's a converted barn with b and b accommodation too). And there's also a wonderful little museum of village life in the grounds here. And wonderful today also to welcome a group of delegates from Etela-Konnevesi National Park who have been visiting to find out more about how the artists residency programme works here. It was great to talk with them and talk about how time with nature gives such depth of feeling and generates creativity. It's so rare to have time to dedicate to creative exploration like this. Partly because in the UK so much else occupies time - be it the ins and outs of work admin, pressures from juggling so many projects, domestic chores and other things that need attention daily. So much of my work in the UK is with schools, which I love and am deeply committed to, but it also consumes a lot of energy and time (as well as the physical journey of driving in busy traffic) and the context with schools in the UK is so very different to here. I think having the space here is proving to be deeply significant for me - the physical space of a light, big studio with lovely views; but also the emotional space, space to walk and explore and to discover, space to look and listen and think... And for me, at the moment, space to think and ponder is deeply crucial. I'm finding the landscape here is affecting me deeply and bringing about some very intense emotions which, in turn, link to other things and do feed creative explorations. More ponderings to follow... |
Claire Simpson
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