This gallery contains 6 photos.
This gallery contains 9 photos.
In the first days of Ceangal 2013 we went for excursions around the area, we talked to the visiting artists about history, politics, culture, heritage, environment, people and landscape. In Gairloch there was a ceilidh, the whirling figures became ghostlike blurs in photographs, a metaphor for our own fleeting lives in this place, and also of the peoples, communities and cultures which came before us. I started making dancing figures in various locations around the reserve, using unfired wet clay, which would quickly disintegrate and fade back into the earth as people do, like the blurred dancers who fade away home at the end of the ceilidh. As I worked the figures started telling their own stories instead of just dancing. Our lives now are all full of global information, we all are so busy, living in our own heads, which are full of lists, chores and clutter. It is easy to dash through the stunning glens and forests without stopping to look, to listen, to absorb, to communicate or connect. By placing figures in this landscape I am forcing myself to stop and take a moment, to explore more, to clear my own head. These little clay people are also inviting you, and other people to do the same. It would be easy to miss these clay people, just as it is easy to miss a bright flower, bird, dragonfly or patterned lichen.
Are these figures happy or sad? Without gender or race or age specified, who are they? Are they together in clans, or apart, isolated in a crowd? Are they dancing, or fighting? Do they come to celebrate the land, or to spoil it? Which one is you? Which one would you like to be? Are they climbing up to help each other, to work together, play, learn, create, and evolve collectively? Or are they exploiting and climbing over each other in a race to the top? How do they make you feel? If you found them in the woods, would you laugh, be annoyed or uncomfortable? Would you leave them there, move them or destroy them? Who are they, how do they connect to each other, how do we connect with each other? Who are the people you carry in your head, who are you connected to in your lives? How do you relate to the world about you? When was the last time you stopped and sat on a rock to look, to listen, to absorb, to communicate, to connect?
On the path of my life
I have created my own image.
associated with my ‘I’.
To maintain this image it become the aim of my life
As the time passes by
Life become tiresome and boring
Even multiple images of my ‘I’
Don’t work, they looses their glitter and
Feel desolated in the jungle of my ‘I’
As I mov away from the mirror and
My image disappears too
Now I am able to feel I am part of the whole
Relieved from my ‘I’
On distant blue lake is ,
Setting the path of my journey
On a playful jungle trail
The reflective surface on the way reminds me of my past
I have left it far behind me .
I am on the path of nature.
I am free as the transparent jungle breeze.
Héliophanie II : vegetal relics
I am a photographer as well as a visual artist, I use the « camera obscura » and other ancient techniques for my photographic set-ups. I am moved by memory charged objects as well as actively involved in the process of capturing mother nature through the world of growing plants.
This installation of 50 cyanotypes is inspired by the work of the scientists in Benne Eighe reserve, collecting vegetal species in small enveloppes.
These vegetal relics have been taken from the oldest graves of Gairloch cemetery. They are a kind of notebook for the souls, an anthropo-flore epitaph, syncretism of human, sun and growing vegetation.
I hang 1,600 pieces of small white cloth to wood.
I install them in a crack and the circumference of the stone.
1,600 pieces of cloth is population of Gairloch.
This prays for happiness.
However, they are exposed to an invisible thing to our eyes now.
I stare at things in the background.
the abandoned house, Taggan
pencil on the wall
typeface: New Caledonia
The starting point of the work was the hand-written sentence found on site on the wall-paper. „I kissed her on the ship and the crew began to roar (…)“ is the slightly changed first line from an old seamen’s song called Baltimore Shanty.
In the work four lines of the refrain are written in New Caledonia typeface on the walls. The idea of repetition can be understood as a reflection upon the cycle of leaving and returning.