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. 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.
Its hard to begin to say just how inspiring it is here - and last night I managed to see one of natures pieces of magic right from where I'm staying... I'm half way through my residency here in Finland (and already planning a return trip to continue the work) and last night, just as I was about to go to bed I glanced outside to check the sky as the space weather data (which I had been making a point of checking online) had said there might be some aurora - and sure enough, just past midnight the sky began to dance... Its really hard to focus the camera in the dark, but these shots are ok enough to give a bit of an idea of the awe of the northern lights. It's worth saying that what I could see just with my eye was paler than this; I had the camera on an 8 second exposure, so the camera sensor can pick the colours up far better than the eye can - but I've not changed the colours at all in these pictures, this is what the camera picked up. I had to be up early today for a day in the school here, so I'm now really tired as it was so hard to pull myself away from the view last night! If I hadn't had a 6am start then I might have walked with the camera away form the tiny bit of street lighting which is outside where I'm staying. But, as this was the view from my apartment, its quite special too! This was my first viewing of the northern lights, something I have wanted to see ever since I can remember being a tiny child; so it was a deeply important and significant moment. It feels like just one of so many layers of things that the land is revealing here - secrets that you have to be patient for, things that are visible only occasionally, fleetingly. And because of that the reward in seeing them is so much deeper and sits with the soul... I've been here in Koli for 11 days now; I feel very immersed in everything here and yet its just a beginning - there's so very much to explore and investigate... I've begun to create some work in the wonderful studio space that's here at Kolin Ryynanen - and again, that's just a beginning...
Its such a fascinating landscape here that I've wanted to be outside with the camera walking and exploring as much as I possibly can. The studio (and apartment attached to it) is a really inspiring space with light flooding in, its just that the forest keeps calling out to me... Collecting and gathering things that intrigue me is a key part of my work and from the first day here I was gathering little bits of fallen twig, nibbled pine cones, fallen lichen and more... my pockets bursting with tiny treasures... I've managed to find some (cheap) second hand Finnish books, so I'm trying to use those together with things I've brought with me. I've been looking at ways of creating spaces to hold some of the gathered tiny pieces and thoughts and questions... Other things may emerge... These are just starting points... (plus I couldn't bring a printing press with me or enough pots and pans and steamers to set eco printing going, so some of the techniques I want to explore will have to wait to be continued back in the UK...). Gathering objects and questions and little snippets of noticed things whilst out walking is a key interest for me and its something I explore in my own work and in the projects I work on with groups. I've been out with the school gathering mushrooms; it's deeply inspiring to see how connected the children and staff are to the land. There is a deep respect and trust and understanding which sits with people here and the school is such a lovely illustration of this. The children have been learning lots about which mushrooms are edible and which are not and it's so great to see how this works in practice as they go off collecting - and many people forage here, there is a right of access to the land to do so, therefore small children grow up noticing the adults around them foraging with care as a part of daily life. There are little sculptural features dotted about the landscape as nature itself gathers and collects - massive wood ant nests of collected pine needles, branches and trunks of fallen trees which are caught up in other trees, colourful fungi which form bowl-like structures and gather dew, fallen birch leaves and tiny insects passing by. Humans work the land by collecting - and take what they need, but not more. Wood is carefully stacked and stored for fuel, hay is stored (I'm fascinated by the hay structures), barns hold food and fuel. Buildings seem to sit so wonderfully in the landscape, as if they are at one with it - building materials are mostly wood with paints created from earthen pigments, so the structures made by man seem gentle and just respectfully placed on the land - nothing brash or egotistical about them. I'm back in the school almost the whole of this week, I'm in there lots whilst here as part of the Lab 13 project work with Ignite. It's such a lovely little school - and blog posts about all that work will follow. There's so much to be learnt from the Finnish education system I feel... After a day working in the school here yesterday (and blog posts about that will follow) the evening was spent deep in the forest gathering lingonberries... And exploring an old, very remote, farm house which is no longer lived in (but possibly someone visits occasionally as there were little signs of visits by a human (or a moomin?)). I feel so grateful to the Koli Cultural Committee who are making me feel so very warmly welcomed here, they are striking exactly the right balance for me of there being time alone to explore and make and time where they are showing me different local places or gentle experiences. The warmth and gentle kindness here is bliss.
Its really hard to find ways to describe the sense of peace here; it permeates everything and everyone. The 3 hours or so we spent in the depths of the forest foraging yesterday evening were like a deep meditation... I truly felt like a moomin... Really wondering the land and looking, then looking again and searching and gathering and stopping every now and again to pause and look at the views... then head down again to continue gathering... I'm here busy working yet the pace of everything is so different to the UK - there's a sense of calm permeating the land, the people, the buildings, the daily routine... People work hard and are really productive, they're up early doing things and making things, but there's a sense of taking time to do things with care and by hand and with respect and love. Picking berries was a perfect example - a walk into the forest and then a long time spent searching and gathering and deeply looking - for the reward of a bucketful of berries to be taken home and prepared in order to eat later... Why would you buy them - its so much better for the soul to spend time at one with the land gathering them in this way... “I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in.” John Muir Like many others, I am really inspired by the words of people such as John Muir, people who spent a lot of time wondering and contemplating in nature and exploring the deep connections and revelations that arise when we take time to pause and look and ponder. I think making time to engage with “everyday nature” is both crucial but also easily achievable – and the benefits are so rich. A lot of my work with groups and also in the work I create myself is concerned with exploring the details in nature around us and looking at ways this can soothe, inspire and ignite curiosity. There is something really important about spending time outside throughout the seasons and wondering the same pathways again and again – it’s like peeling away the layers of an onion because more and more things are revealed each time. The sense of discovery can be so rich if you make time to notice – to look up, to peep downwards, to stop and listen… One of the (many) things I love about working with children is the millions of ways they notice things and the amazing questions they ask of the world around them. They will notice an ant crawling along, or see the possibilities in a puddle, or pick up an interesting stone or stop and wonder what’s inside a hole in a pathway. Life can sometimes feel overwhelming and difficult and it’s easy to feel a sense of things moving at a fast pace which you have little control over – and I think time with nature can be such a massive antidote to all of that. Things make more sense when you notice the connections that happen at every level in the natural world; the flow of the seasons and the cycle of birth, life and death all have a sense of interdependence and little things effect big positive changes. Its something I always need to feel and especially so at the moment, I’ve been finding myself reflecting very deeply in recent months about the soothing, uplifting and inspiring power of nature. I have several groups that I work outside with on creative projects throughout the year, we always start each session with a few moments to notice what’s happening in the space, what might be different from last time and to look for questions… Children will notice the tiny details and these lead to some amazing creative explorations, they are driven to explore the world around them in so many ways. I think that also, by taking time outside to look around and ask questions of the natural world, we can start to find a deeper understanding about ourselves and a deeper sense of inner peace; its that part John Muir’s quote “by going out, I was really going in”. “When we tug at a single thing in nature we find it attached to the rest of the world.” John Muir
After returning from Wales with some new energy I've found time to dig out lots of pots and pans that I use for natural dyes and to experiment with the wonderful technique of eco printing, something I've been meaning to explore for AGES! Its already really addictive and hopefully I can make lots of time to play around with ideas before autumn sets firmly in and leaves and petals are then harder to find.
I got together with the very wonderful Claire Crowley and Claire Uttley, two other creative forest school leaders who also wanted to explore this technique. We spent at day at AMC Gardens (where I work a little bit of each week) and used the plants around us there to test lots of ideas out. Once back home we've all continued to experiment - the day together was exactly the impetus we each needed. Bundle dyeing is a technique lots of people know through the work of the amazing artist India Flint, who creates really beautiful work and has published some very inspirational books, there are quite a lot of people exploring the technique now, partly through a desire to create work that has low impact on the environment, partly as part of a desire to slow down and take a more mindful approach to creating work and also as part of the interest in using the plants around us as a source for creations. I've been using plants to print with for many years, but mostly by working with printing inks and then layering up plants and papers through the printing press, which does give results I really love. I've been exploring natural dyes for some time, but mostly onto raw sheep's fleece and then using this for felt making (though I'm determined to learn to use a spinning wheel too!). This technique of eco bundle dyeing / printing is one I've been researching and its wonderful to finally feel I've begun my journey with this. I love working with plants that surround me in different places, its part of forming a deep connection with the land and its definitely something I indent to continue to develop. I grow many plants in my own little wildlife garden that are good for dye stuff and this printing process is like asking them to yield up new secrets! The actual process is very much about trial and error and also about stopping, slowing down and not needing a quick fix. Taking time to walk and explore and gather the plants is important, some research into which plants are good for dyes is important too (although testing many out will give interesting and surprising results). I'm especially enjoying the results onto paper and it will feed into all the little books I've been making. The paper and fabric is bundled up tightly and steamed (for at least an hour, but often much longer) and then left to cool before opening (the longer its left, the more the colours "cure"). There's lots of ways of adding mordants and colour modifiers and then also over-dyeing and re-dyeing etc, so its all very much about testing and experimenting and then recording results - its that wonderful cross over between art and science. I'm just off to gather more leaves! I think many of us need a little time away every now and then to places that fill us with ideas, inspiration and solace. We each need different things and perhaps the key thing is knowing yourself well enough to work out what you need to seek out to recharge your batteries. For me its wild landscapes, time immersed in nature, time alone and time with small groups of people I'm close to. I'm a real introvert and need time away from crowds and noise and anything fast paced, I need time to walk and listen and reflect and ponder and discover. I crave time to sit and watch the natural world and to focus and notice small details.
There's a wonderful place in North Wales that a special group of close friends return to again and again, its our own organised retreat full of gentle creativity, experimentation, space to wonder, time to make things, walks, time to watch the light change over the sea, dog walks on the beach, kite flying and really good food. We've just returned from some time there and the place has woven its magic over us all again. I really love being outside in all weathers, and although we did have a lot of sun too, its the wilder days where the colours of the landscape are muted and the wind whips about that I feel inspired by. I've not altered the colours in these photos, there was such a wonderful colour palette provided by the natural world - with some great additions by the buildings dotted about (and a quirky little steam train!). This is the bottom end of the Snowdonia National Park, around the Mawddach Estuary and Cadair Idris, its a wonderful place full of mountains, hills, coast, vast swathes of beaches, wild estuaries and interesting little villages and towns dotted about. The sounds of the sea and birds and wind rustling through the dunes are still in my head and processing all the photographs I've taken is a really good way of landing back here in Derbyshire and reflecting on what I felt and discovered in Wales. We always all bring sets of materials to make things with and its a wonderful opportunity to test out new ideas amongst supportive, like minded, creative friends. I found myself needing to spend a lot of time outside watching the light change, wondering and photographing. I also found time to weave, crochet and test out different yarn bindings; it also gives me a sense of permission to experiment and test out new things and since getting back home I've been really busy testing out eco bundle printing (another blog post to follow) which I've been wanting to explore for AGES! For me it feels very special finding places that you want to return to again and again, its always a sense of welcoming an old friend and peeling away layers and discovering more and more things. The land has so many hidden elements, so much that changes and yet also a wonderful sense of solidity - of history that stretches back thousands and millions of years, and to me that feels very soothing. I've been thinking a lot recently about Flow State and the very important role this has for all of us - as adults and for children. Being "lost in the moment" and totally absorbed in the task in hand - and thereby igniting massive amounts of learning and well being is such a crucial thing and something that should be offered readily to everyone. But so much takes place around us that can halt or hamper access to these times of flow. Flow state is intrinsically bound up in creativity and spaces for imaginations and discovery to happen. Its a key part of the way I work with children and I always seek to set up spaces in projects where this can happen; but also I know when I enter a flow state myself, its when the best ideas and explorations happen. Its all bound up completely in a sense of well-being, happiness and a sense of purpose - as well as a sense of discovery and finding out new things. I'm going through a big period of reflection at the moment as some changes happen and energies need directing in different ways. Some long term projects are ending and other new ones are starting - which is an essential part of life. I can be very philosophical about that and also pragmatic - but with all of that comes a heightened sense of what drives you and what's important in life. Its also when you notice what you risk neglecting or losing - which I think can lead to a renewed sense of determination about things to hold dear. One of these key things is opportunities for being consumed in a state of flow as often as possible - for me myself, but most importantly for the participants in projects I work on. Flow state is something that happens in different ways for different people; its when you often are so lost in your thoughts and absorbed in being in the moment that you feel a deep sense of discovery, absorption, engagement and fulfilment. You are often so consumed in what you're doing that you're not aware "flow" is happening. Its something vital to be aware of for educators - because it's where so much deep learning takes place; but also because its really easy to disrupt a child or group lost in flow state and thereby interrupt a point of crucial learning. These times of flow can happen for individuals and for groups. It usually requires time and space - time to "get into the zone" itself and then a lot of time to actually "be" there and be immersed in whatever it is you are doing. There might be a lot of repetition when children are lost in flow state, they might test out an idea and become so transfixed by what they are noticing and discovering that they repeat this again and again, each time noticing more and more things. Children lost in flow state notice so much; it's a crucial part of providing enriching experiences which enhance communication (it gives you something to talk about and to enquire about). Children yearn for the opportunities to repeat these kind of experiences, and sometimes these experiences provide some of the most magical and special days. Immediate examples I can draw upon include:
In creative projects, flow state is something we come across a lot, especially when space and time are given for the kind of exploration to take place that enables someone to enter flow state. So its bound up in understanding child centred learning. I feel so lucky that I actually see children lost in this way of working and exploring all the time; but I also worry that its not understood or valued enough in scenarios where data and test driven agendas are high. Flow is "... a state that many people value more than (so much else)... the state of total immersion in a task that is challenging yet closely matched to ones abilities. It is what people sometimes call "being in the zone"... it often feels like effortless movement: Flow happens and you go with it. Flow often occurs during physical movement... Flow is aided by music or the action of other people, both of which provide a temporal structure for one's own behaviour (for example singing in a choir). And flow can happen during solitary creative activities, such as painting, writing or photography. The keys to flow: There's a clear challenge that fully engages your attention; you have the skills to meet the challenge; and you get immediate feedback about how you are doing on each step. You get flash after flash of positive feeling with each turn negotiated, each high note correctly sung, or each brushstroke that falls into the right place." from The Happiness Hypothesis by Jonathan Haidt (an excellent book). This quote sums it all up really well - and talks about how moments of being submersed in flow state are bound up and intrinsically linked to levels of happiness and well-being. I see both individual children and groups enter flow state in so many different places and settings. Its really common during activities such as den building, working with clay, drawing or working with shadow puppets or exploring woodland... Its also bound up in "loose parts", in resources which can be used for a myriad of things and can extend children's ideas endlessly.
It can be a really subtle thing to spot - and also for educators its bound up in knowing when to intervene, when to offer support / scaffolding and when to sit back and observe. Its hard (but not impossible) to measure - but it can be observed and recorded alongside subtle ways of tracking / documenting well being and whole child development. I think documenting this way of learning is key - its not easy and one of the things I've seen time and time again is for a child lost in flow state to be snapped out of it by a well meaning adult asking the child to pose for the camera. One of the (endless) things I adore about the Reggio philosophy is the way it challenges adults to "listen" to children in some of the most subtle and sensitive ways possible - and by listening, to then document the learning taking place. Although flow state doesn't necessarily happen just in creative activity, it is a key part of creativity and invention. Its often very tactile - I notice it a lot when children are exploring mud, water, plants or paint for example; and this can also mean it might seem a bit messy (which really appeals to some adults / children, but not to others). It might also seem somewhat "pointless" and hard to grasp to those who look for neat tangible fixed outcomes and / or things that can be easily measured. With children, flow state is often child led - but this doesn't mean its removed from adults; very often the key thing is highly skilled and sensitive adults who have enabled a child to enter a flow state through the way they have set out resources, through the time they have carved out, through the physical and emotional space they have created. Flow state is so bound up in the process that there often is no single fixed outcome - its often a succession of discoveries and maybe a series of compositions of resources. Although flow state can happen in so many ways and so many places, I do think there are a few key common factors that enable this to happen, all things that are essential to keep in mind when setting up spaces for learning, for creativity and for exploration: time - time to actually relax and get into a state of flow (sometimes this can take a while) and then time to actually be immersed in it space - inside or out, but it needs to be space that is conducive to the activity in question, space that ensures the activity isn't interrupted, space that enables the person / people in flow state to move about a bit and to extend what they are doing, and space which ignites curiosity in a safe way sensitive adults (and sometimes it will need a high ration of adults) who know when to step back but also can see when to step in - and sometimes this might be without words (it might be just making sure a key resource is nearby so a child can access it, it might be moving something so that a child spread out the things they are working on...) resources / tasks which the children can easily access but also which challenge in a manageable way; so the children learn and discover new things but feel able to succeed in these new tasks, resources and tasks which excite imaginations, ignite curiosity and lead to a host of discoveries - and thereby its essential that there is NOT a fixed single outcome designed by an adult. space and time to share these discoveries so that the sense of achievement is reinforced and celebrated; this might be actually sharing objects created or performing something, it might be a chance to talk to others about it, it could be a journal entry recording thoughts and feelings, it could be a series of photographs taken of important moments... but also space to be left alone if needed so that the flow isn't interrupted Sometimes its hard to find exact words to describe experiences, especially when those experiences have been so tactile, so deep and layered with so many small moments that add up to quite overwhelming feelings. Our residential project at Lockerbrook a week ago (June 6th – 10th) was like that and for me. It was also layered throughout with deep thoughts about what education should and could offer children and adults (as opposed to the extreme pressures, data driven measures and budget cuts now littered throughout the education system and which many of us are now feeling all too deeply). The project was a whole week residential for a group of year 4 and 5 children at Dunkirk Primary School (aged 8 – 10). None of them had been there before although a few of the children have siblings who came away with us there in March 2015 as part of a week long residential Erasmus funded camp with Dunkirk’s link school in Finland. Dunkirk is situated just on the edge of Nottingham city centre and although Derbyshire isn’t far really, most of the children haven’t explored Derbyshire and it was another world entirely for them. Lockerbrook Centre (see link here) is high up in the Dark Peak area of north Derbyshire, an area of high hills, wild moorland, strange eerie rocky outcrops, vast reservoirs and little farm tracks. There are captions on each of these photographs I took which give a little bit more detail about the project. The staff / project artists involved aimed for the week to be filled with creative experiences all inspired by the landscape and the remote peaceful setting. We have used Lockerbrook several times now, it’s a stunning location run by the Woodcraft Folk, so the ethics behind the centre are very strong. The centre is an old farmhouse with a really interesting history and the building itself will have seen many changes over the years it has sat on top of the steep hillside. The children were fascinated by the idea of the drowned villages underneath the reservoirs – and we talked a lot about how Lockerbrook Farm would have once looked down onto a village and heard the sounds of children playing, people chattering and going about their daily work, whereas now the building looks down onto vast expanse of water. The timetable for the week consisted of a real mixture of opportunities for exploration and learning and we layered so much into everything we did. There were walks, morning and evening yoga, den building, working outside with clay, stories, cooking on the fire, songs, time to make books and draw and lots of time amidst all this to let the stunning landscape seep into you. Everything was thought out to provide deep learning experiences, opportunities for rich conversations and language development and endless opportunities to enhance self esteem and confidence. A really important part of a residential like this is all the very essential and basic life skills for the children of washing, cleaning the rooms, eating at a table and chatting calmly whilst doing so, unpacking / packing your own case, getting your bag and packed lunch ready for a day outside, working out what to wear etc – all of this takes time and is crucial to wider well-being. Much of this “everyday” stuff was of huge significance to the children, its things that can be really hard to fit into a 9-3.30 day at school but which provide such crucial life skills. We built a daily routine to hook everything on – getting up, dressing, breakfast together, clearing away, making packed lunch, morning yoga followed by a day of various creative work outside and then the evening meal and eventually bedtime yoga to relax and be ready to sleep. Of course, as anyone who has worked on a residential knows, all this is then followed by ensuring the children are in bed, helping anyone who might feel a bit strange away from home, checking on the children constantly and then making sure all plans are ready for the following day. For adults it’s a wonderful week of work but incredibly long hours with no down time at all. We were well prepared for wet weather but actually it was hot and sunny all week – which showed off the amazing views brilliantly and also gave us a chance to connect with the local population of midges… (maybe that bit of wildlife wasn’t quite so welcome!). On the Monday we spent a long time creating dens in the woodland near to Lockerbrook, the challenge for the children was to build a space that would camouflage them. They also each created guardians for their dens out of clay and natural materials (I’m often asked about the clay I use and feel its vital to point out its real clay that a potter would use and fire in a kiln, its NOT air drying clay which has pieces of plastic in and is not suitable at all to leave outside). They worked also to animate their guardians (all still outside) and give them a voice using an ipad and a great app which records voices. Lockerbrook is situated on top of a steep hillside above Snake Pass, so it involves a walk up through a beautiful wooded hillside to reach the centre. Once up there you can walk for miles along the hills and we were totally spoilt for choices of routes. On the Tuesday and Wednesday we undertook two walks to take in a variety of different views, history, geography and stories. One walk takes in the stunning landslip that forms Alport Castles, the other walk took us past Crook Hill and through the wooded hillside to the reservoirs where we could explore stories of the drowned villages. Each of these walks was about 6 ½ miles, which is quite an undertaking for most of the children; we allowed the whole day for each walk so that we could ensure there was time for breaks along the way: time for stories, for gathering ideas, for making things and sharing thoughts – and also ice creams at one point… On the Thursday we decided to use the children’s intense fascination with the villages underneath the reservoirs and enable them to explore their ideas around this. Its been a strong feature of the way we have worked with the children at Dunkirk over the years that we ask them big questions and give them a real chance to shape their learning. It’s also so touching and wonderful how the children use this to explore some very strong and powerful world issues. For me too, the fact that last years Protest Art project fed deeply into their thinking on this project was really important. Some of the children wanted to make model villages to try and flood to see what would happen, others wanted to know what would happen if they tried to create a way of diverting the water so it didn’t flood the villages and another group wanted to make placards, banners and model people to stage a real protest about flooding the villages – they wanted to know what would happen if people were given a voice. Each evening there was time for reflection and to imbed what had happened during the day. There was drawing, guided visualisations, making books, sewing (making puppets and more), time to read, time to chat, time too for table tennis and football. I lit a fire (in my favourite spot over looking the reservoir) and we all sat around: we cooked, we sang and we shared thoughts. Event the night when the midges were at their most active we still sat out (if briefly) with midge hoods on – rather a strange sight! There was yoga each evening before bed (as well as each morning) led by drama / yoga practitioner Parmjit Sagoo, its such a powerful and wonderful way of the children finding calm, gathering thoughts and winding their energies into either a place ready for work or a place ready for sleep. A huge driver in the work I do is about finding places for stillness and contemplation in nature – and thereby ways of igniting curiosity. This is crucial for my own practice but I think its vital too for children and adults who often are pushed in a fast paced education system full of intensity. Its often incredibly hard to find places where you can sit and think and observe – and in most school days this is very rare indeed, yet learning and imbedding of knowledge come through times to consolidate and through tactile connection with the world. It’s a kind of mindfulness that is central to well-being. Lockerbrook is a place that provides so much wonderful space to spread out and find gentle nurturing spaces for observing the world around you (and thereby your inner world too). When making dens or clay creations etc, its all the subtle other things that can be just as (if not more) important – the finding of intriguing leaves and sticks, the gathering of resources, the sitting under a tree and listening to natural sounds, the feel of the breeze, the realisation that moss is soft to sit on… All this takes time and it needs adults who can facilitate a space where this is valued. On our first day whilst making dens, two of the boys discovered fallen fresh pine needles – they were totally fascinated “look at these claire, what are they? They are like little hedgehogs, they’re bright green and they smell good and they bend and they are all a bit different – and here’s another and another… look… more of them…” Their den making turned into a wonderful exploration to hunt and gather fallen pine needles and we had a great discussion about why it had to be the fallen ones they collected and not those still growing on the trees. Because we were there all week they were able to keep revisiting this, they carried a selection of the pine needles around with them all week, they kept finding new ones and thereby making all sorts of amazing observations about trees and soil types – and from high up on the hill tops where they could look down onto the woodland they were making some great discoveries about the trees in the wood, how the land was managed and why… it went on all week with more and more observations and questions. By the last morning they were still picking up fallen pine needles and comparing them – it’s an utter delight to be on a journey of discovery like this with children. I think as adults it can be all too easy to dismiss the small details that fascinate children – and if you don’t stop to look and question you miss SO much. But if children are surrounded by adults who DO stop, look, value the tiny details and share the wonder, then they receive a message that their curiosity, interest, ideas and questions are valued. Another example of this was the reeds growing in many places around the centre. Again, on the first day, when a child had found one I showed them how you could carefully peel away the outer green coating to reveal the wonderful white inner spongy world of the reed – and we talked about how people had used these as candle wicks. The challenge to peel them caught the interests of several children but then also they discovered so many sculptural qualities of the reeds and spent ages looking at different ways they could link together. This was still going on by the last day with more and more new discoveries being made. One of the class teachers who came along made the observation about how you see such different qualities in the children on a project like this. That it’s often the children who might struggle to sit behind a table all day and focus on desk-bound tasks (and thereby be seen as struggling in a classroom) who totally shine out as enthusiastic learners and who are completely focused on the world around them. I feel very privileged that over the years I’ve been able to work on creative projects which enable this side of children to shine out. The opportunities for exciting interactions with all kinds of wildlife were everywhere at Lockerbrook. I’m quite “nerdy” about flora and fauna and get excited by the huge variety of things surrounding us… I don’t feel its always vital that accurate names are placed alongside each bird and plant, more that its crucial to be aware of just how many different species are around us, how they connect up and how they are part of a rich ecosystem. We were surrounded by singing skylarks, by calling curlews (one of my favourite sounds), by buzzards mewing, by swallows swooping and chattering, by so many other birds… There were hares grazing right outside the centre early in the morning – and this in itself held huge fascination; the children called me over early one morning from inside the building where they were looking out of the window “look Claire at that rabbit” they said – and they were utterly intrigued when I said it was a hare, they had never heard of one before… “what is a hare? What does it do?”
There was a cuckoo calling early in the morning near the centre too, a sound so familiar from my own childhood but now a rare sound - and for very many children it isn’t a common feature of their childhood. At dusk bats were flying around and a woodcock roding too… and as darkness fell tawny owls called loudly (the children were asleep by then!). All sorts of tiny and intriguing insects were around and I was delighted to find an elephant hawkmoth drying itself out on the grass on the last morning. A couple of the children caught sight of a lizard out on one of our walks and they were totally fascinated by this and desperately trying to find more. We could have spent the entire week searching for creatures and only scratched at the surface of what was around us. I’ve been resident artist / forest school leader at Dunkirk for 9 years, which has involved many different projects and partnerships and for the past few years has involved being at the school 3 days a week working with many classes on a number of initiatives. It means I know the children and staff well and we have developed an incredibly strong working relationship and it has meant that creative projects like this can be cross referenced with all so many other strands of work at the school. My time at the school is now changing but hopefully there will still be opportunities to work in this way with the children and staff. Its been an incredibly special journey and I’m endlessly inspired by the ways the children are fascinated by the world and by the questions they ask. |
Claire Simpson
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