I’ve been looking at my work so far and have started to think about what I will have to show and how I will show it.
“The Smell of an English Summer 1916 (Fresh Cut Grass)”
Deckchairs and Graphite
This piece takes the memory of a thing (in this case, lazy summer’s days before the outbreak of World War One) and using objects to symbolise this thing (e.g. deckchairs), reinterpret the objects so that they come to represent something new (the horrors of war, the hopeless wish for peace).
“Broken Hayes”
Oil, Pencil and Graphite on Canvas
This canvas will be covered with words written on each of the walks that I’ll make over the coming days, and where the words are crossed out on successive walks, so they’ll be rubbed out on the canvas, much like the names on old tombstones, smoothed over by feet. This link with feet, fits with the walks themselves.
The title ‘Broken Hayes’ is the old name for Gloucester Green and describes a place which, in a sense, no longer exists, although, like the ghostly dwellings on John Gwynn’s survey (1772) it’s ‘footprint’ is still visible in the boundaries of the Green. Many of the items rubbed out on the canvas no longer exist in the places where I ‘found’ them; they are, in name only memories, just like Broken Hayes, yet like the physical aspect of that place, they still exist.
“The Light of the Moon “
Found Disposable Cups, Graphite and Water
This will be an installation of paper cups found in the city centre. The contents of each have all been consumed by tourists and residents alike; people who now might be spread throughout the globe. This fits with Dogen Zenji’s quote: “The light of the moon covers the earth, yet it can be contained in a single bowl of water.”
Also, the act of looking in bins to make this installation has been interesting in that when I’m walking through town, I’m sure that no-one is looking; I’m just a part of the mass of people. Yet when I start rummaging through bins, I feel as if everyone is looking at me – I feel like an individual, a ‘single bowl of water.’
I’ve also started the walks again now that I know what I’m looking to do. I’m following the same route, the first words of which are as follows:
engine purrs
yellow clothes
hiss
reverse warning sounds
food
pie ‘n’ pint
Leffe
thumbs up
zebra crossing
fat stomach
boarded windows
hooded top
red car waits
suitcases
red
red and amber
two police officers
Jericho voyager
piggy back ride
two trees
tinny music
diagonal shadow
man crouches
iron gate
French flag
wedding party
green man disappears
404
empty street
shopping bags
new confetti
castle tower
child’s coat
discarded blanket
child cries
letterbox
old confetti
empty cycle tracks
gate slams
footsteps
sandals
sun shines on houses
arch
birdsong
gentle sound of water
a bird calls
Russians
dirty water
weir
sand
paving slabs
gravel
litter
ancient windows
lifebuoy
sun sparkles
car turns right
a distant siren
118
drowned bicycle
submerged traffic cone
plastic bags
old walls
the stain of a splash
weeds
petals
little Derick’s doin ok
car starts
CCTV
arrow
concrete monster
an old acquaintance
conversation
posters
bricks
plaster cast
scaffolding
balloon
bird shit
pigeon
cigarette ends
e3
steps
strong shadow
church bells
green lights
Leffe beer
doorbell
barbed wire
satellite dish
green spire
traffic noise
birdsong
no.2
no.3
ivy
gutter
no.4
plastic sheet
step over the gutter
half-painted
parking ticket
dragon
no.8
red bins
mixed glass only
arch in the wall
disinfectant
litter bin
suitcase
red door
blue door
bicycle
pillar box
plastic bottle
checking a map
confused faces
popcorn
French flags
pink sandals
ham
long queue
luminous jacket
engine purrs
telephone boxes
laughter
The prose version:
An engine purrs. A woman with yellow clothes walks towards me. The hiss of a bus’s brakes, and then its reverse warning sounds, telling of its departure. Outside the pub on a blackboard food is advertised; a pie ‘n’ pint. Leffe is also served here. A man gives a thumbs up as I cross the zebra crossing. A man with a fat stomach walks towards and then past me. Ahead, on the opposite side of the street, a shop and a restaurant stand empty with boarded windows. A young man with a hooded top saunters down the road while a red car waits at the traffic lights. I see people with suitcases making their way to the train station. The lights are red, then red and amber and the traffic moves. Two police officers are on patrol. A bus called the Jericho voyager drives past and a man gives his daughter a piggy back ride. There are two trees on this side of the street. I hear tinny music come from a car, while up ahead, a diagonal shadow cuts the pavement in two. Up another road, in the distance, a man crouches. I walk past an iron gate and on some railings see a French flag – a poster advertising a market. A wedding party stands on the pavement. The green man disappears just before I reach the road and so I wait a while. On the lamppost, a sticker with 404 has been stuck on. I look up the empty street towards the city centre. A couple carry identical shopping bags, happy with their purchases. I cross the road and see new confetti littering the pavement. One of the wedding guests talks about sales. Ahead is the castle tower. A child’s lost coat hangs on a bollard and nearby lies a discarded blanket. Up ahead, a child cries. I look; a letterbox takes my attention for some reason. On the pavement, old confetti appears stuck down. There’s a row of empty cycle tracks. The street is quiet, a gate slams and I hear footsteps. A man wearing sandals walks towards me. Round the corner, the sun shines on houses and ahead I see an arch over the entrance to a courtyard. Birdsong is mixed with the gentle sound of water. A bird calls and a group of Russians talk as they walk past. Dirty water gathers at the weir. On the road, a cordon contains sand, paving slabs and gravel. There’s litter too. Above me, the ancient windows of the tower look out. A lifebuoy waits for an emergency while the sun sparkles on the water. A car turns right and I hear a distant siren 118 is written on a sign. I don’t look at the rest of it. Below the bridge is a drowned bicycle and a submerged traffic cone. There are some old plastic bags snared in the branches. I walk beside the old walls. On the pavement is the stain of a splash just where the weeds grow and where petals gather like the paper confetti. Little Derick’s doin ok – a scrawled message on a hoarding says. I wonder who he is. A car starts and on the wall of a building I’m made aware of CCTV. An arrow points towards another road while up ahead, the concrete monster looms large. An old acquaintance appears on his bike and we engage in conversation, mainly about the weather. Posters look tatty beside that ugly building – all bricks and shadow. A man with plaster cast on his arm waits while scaffolding is erected nearby. Are they going to knock the ugly stuff down? I wish they would. A balloon bobs on the opposite side of the street but on my side it’s all bird shit. A pigeon scuttles across the path, in amongst the cigarette ends. E3 says a sign at one of the bus stops. Ahead I see the steps I’ll walk up. A strong shadow cuts across and in the distance I hear church bells – a wedding perhaps? Green lights but I cross anyway, there’s no traffic. A bottle of Leffe beer has been left by the steps. There’s a doorbell waiting for a visitor, but above it a roll of barbed wire warns against intrusion. A satellite dish sits silently on the wall of another house and above it, a green spire shoots like some massive flower. Here it’s traffic noise and birdsong. I pass lampposts no.2 and no.3 and see ivy clambering over the wall like a thief. Below the gutter runs, as if unsure of its path. Lamppost no.4. Like the ivy, a plastic sheet escapes over another wall. I see an old step over the lost gutter which now goes nowhere. Ahead is a half-painted bollard. A parking ticket has been left on a car parked on double-yellow lines. The driver’s seat is decorated with a dragon. Here is lamppost no.8 and a gathering of red bins. Mixed glass only says one of them. I notice an arch in the wall just as the smell of disinfectant fills the air; someone is cleaning. Ahead is a litter bin past which a man pulls a suitcase. I pass a red door then a blue door, a bicycle and a pillar box. On the pavement is a plastic bottle. I round the corner and see two people checking a map. There are a few confused faces. On the pavement is a load of spilled popcorn. There are French flags again. The market’s here. A girl in pink sandals walks towards me and I walk past a stall selling ham and on towards a long queue which snakes its way down one side of the square. A man in a luminous jacket walks past me. An engine purrs. Ahead, three telephone boxes wait for conversation, but for the moment, there’s just the sound of laughter.