This distance between…
My bones and your skin, my skin and your bark, my bark and your feathers.
My feathers and your fur, my fur and your scales… we have never been so close…
The distance between my skin and bone is painful, inscribed, marked, flawed,
Freeing, soaring outside of my ‘self’, the eagle takes up the baton…
The swallowtail’s wing scatters these words from West to East, left to right, you to me.
Conversations and connections cutting across continents, cast in concrete…
As the heat intensifies, I am hapless, helpless and limp with fatigue, rare water freshens by bones along with the cracks in the soil.
Longing to bring family together, the season is drawn out, dry and full of anxiety, for this fire is burning and I can feel it from here.
This distance between… my thoughts and your words, my day and your night, my heat and your rain.
My skin and your touch, my breath and your air… we have never been so close.
The year is 2020.
It has been a time to pause.
A time to reflect.
Time has been a strange concept this year.
Time to focus.
On what matters.
to this body
In which I swim through the world
With childlike wonder
As part of Chapel Arts Studios ‘Inside: Outside Laboratory of Dissent 2′ at Winchester School of Art, artist Maija Liepins invited me ‘in’ to connect, digitally, through text. A poetic ‘conversational baton’ was passed each morning for one week for more or less one hour between myself and Maija.
A violent stab of loneliness,
swimming between spaces,
fuelling an insatiable hunger,
then out of the darkness
I return to the forest
Intrigued by the imposed audio limitations placed upon your artist group, I can assure you that your whispers are coming through ‘loud and clear’.
Observing you on your ‘island’, your cell, I can connect with you from my ‘natural soapbox’ (a large protruding rock within the valley). I will respond with a ‘rant’ with a self-imposed limitation that it should come from this place. However, the quest for clarity of thought, of word, of action risks going unseen.
June 2019 saw the worst forest fire in 25 years in the Ribera d’Ebre region of Catalunya burning over 6000 hectares of pine, olive and almond trees. As part of a creative initiative entitled ‘Cendrart’ – ‘cendra’ meaning ash in Catalan – I was invited to create a site-specific work for temporary exhibition within the cremated forest.