The Spirit and Sense of Place

A friend shared a BBC Travel link on Facebook this week about the The Broomway in Essex, that she rightly thought I'd be interested in. I have included it here so you can read the article and sense how unique this isolated place must be. When reading the article by Robert Mac Farlane you cannot help but feel a sense of disorientation that this landscape creates. It is felt in the transient otherworldliness caused by a mirror effect of being out on a causeway off the coast, in the North Sea, just above the mud which is constantly lapped by water, under a huge sky and with no discernible landmarks to be seen.

'My brain was beginning to move unusually, worked upon and changed by the mind-altering substances of this offshore world, and by the elation that arose from the counter-intuition of walking securely on water. Out there, nothing could be only itself. The eye fed on false colour values. Mirages of scale occurred, and tricks of depth.'

'Conceptually, it is close to paradox. It is a right of way and as such is inscribed on maps and in law, but it is also swept clean of the trace of passage twice daily by the tide. What do you call a path that is no path? A riddle? A sequence of compass bearings? A Zen koan?' Robert Mac Farlane.

Being.

This sounds like an easy place to recognise a sense of it. We constantly sense our surroundings and adjust our behaviour accordingly. When I studied for my MA I realised this awareness has a name, Phenomenology. It is 'an approach that concentrates on the study of consciousness and the objects of direct experience'. I first read about this understanding in a wonderful accessible book by David Abram called 'The Spell of the Sensuous'. I was pointed to far more academic books during my study such as those by Merleau-Ponty and Husserl but 'The Spell of the Sensuous' was the one that I went back to time and again for inspiration and understanding. I highly recommend it.

Ali woodcutting in Jane Mowats studio in Somerset.

Tomorrow I open my studio door to visitors for an open day. I have been collaborating with another artist, Alison Lees for nearly 2 years on a project called 'Spirit of Place'. This collaboration has been mutually supportive and we have learnt many new skills whilst working together, including both woodcutting and drypoint etching and printing. This has enabled us to create new pieces of work inspired by the spirit of place in which we both live and work. Over the course of the project we have taken it in turns to visit and sense the place in which the other one lives.

Drypoint etching, the 'reveal'.

Ali lives inland in Kent, on the downs which are very curvy and create a sense of movement to the landscape. They are quite intensively farmed and the strict agricultural year informs their surface layer which sometimes accentuates the underlying topography sometimes making the cereal crop seem to blow in the wind across one field and into another. The ancient woodland close to her home has inspired me. I have loved the immersion of exploring this place throughout the year and especially at Bluebell time, seeking out of a place to sit to draw and paint them, listening to the birds, noticing the insects and generally really feeling/sensing the place.

Immersed in a Bluebell wood.

In contrast, I live on the coast in a built up area in a suburban street a few minutes walk to the sea and its pebbly beach. My garden is therefore my closest wild place, the area in which I can sense in general, the season, the daily weather, the wild visitors that use the garden on a regular basis and the never ending cycles of growth and decay that every living space provides.

The path to the beach.

I swim in the sea every summer and enjoy a similar feeling of immersion that I did back in the late spring in the Bluebell wood. Swimming in the sea I notice the birds flying overhead the seaweed floating around me, the wind rippling the surface of the water as it gusts about and gently as if from a distance I hear the pebbles being moved beneath the water by the waves. This is all sensing the place, the land in which we live. Ali and I are now exploring beyond this keen sense of observation and wonder to another level of understanding. We have come to start to recognise a spirit of both places and it is on that level that we continue to work, discover and create artwork together.

My painting of the sea at Tankerton.

Our mid year Summer exhibition is tomorrow the 15^th of July. The doors of the studio will be open from 11-4 on Saturday when refreshments will be available and all are welcome. The address is 'Lucknow', 67 Northwood road, Tankerton, Whitstable, Kent. CT5 2HB.

Also for your diaries I will be opening the doors of my beautiful straw bale studio once again this year to exhibit my own and Alison’s work as part of the Canterbury Festival, the theme is still 'The Spirit of Place' as it is an ongoing art project based in Kent.

You can keep up to date with our explorations and discoveries by looking at www.facebook.com/EastKentSpiritOfPlace

Open times are 11-5 daily on the weekends from 14-29^th of October. We can be found at house number 25 on the Whitstable trail. Please see the webpage www.ekoh.org.uk for more information.

 I can be contacted on 07432679164 or clare@people-to-place.co.uk

Marking Time

Marking Time

Soon it will be Midsummer. The longest day of daylight hours will be celebrated here in Whitstable again as it has been over the past few years when I will lead a procession of people up the hill on the old Salt Way, walking slowly and mindfully.

The Salt Way, Whitstable.

We will remember the history of this place in another time when it was a main trading route which carried salt from its origins on the coast through to the centre of Kent, where it was needed as an essential commodity.

Seawater, handmade clay vessel and small copper fire-pit.

I initially created this event as a one off piece of fieldwork for the MA project I was working on. I wanted to ‘re-enchant’ this overlooked and disused historic path by creating a spectacle that could be both participated in and viewed as a shared experience. Over the years it has become a regular occurrence and now past participants look forward to it.

Midsummer Fire on the Salt Way.

Midsummer day is a natural marker in the year to take stock of what has already been achieved and take some time out for anticipating future developments and clarifying the flow of our own activity on this lightest of days.

The sun setting last Midsummer.

From past experience I know that the practice of walking together in a procession and slowing down to a steady mindful pace does physically mark time for all of us and creates a wonderful and essential sense of connection with people, place and season, outside our busy lives.

Seasonal Senses

Over Easter I had a great break away, staying in a treehouse in Wales. I wrote about it here, two entries ago. What I most appreciated when I returned to Kent was the abundance of fruit blossom that was out in the orchards, amongst the roadside hedgerows and especially in my garden. We have planted many fruit trees here to add to the much older stock that we were lucky enough to inherit when we moved into the house and its garden 20 years ago.

Returning from the beautiful lush, wild and rocky landscape of Wales to suburban Kent was slightly disappointing until I opened the back door and saw that our garden was full of blossom! The pear blossom was nearly finished and didn't smell as sweet as the fresh apple tree flowers that were busy with bees, but the overall view of the garden was one of abundance and beauty.

Apple blossom.

Throughout the year as the seasons change there are always familiar elements to look forward to. In the woods in which I regularly walk, once the white carpet of Wood Anemones has finished, the Bluebells fragrance the air and their vibrant blue colour can become almost overwhelming in its intensity.

Seasonal variations in light and shadow can be appreciated whilst out walking.

These cyclic seasonal changes are reassuring and a great reminder of our place in the world, putting ‘front page news events’ into perspective. I believe that to walk and observe this regular seasonal change connect us to our senses and in fact sometimes are the only thing that ‘makes sense’. It reminds us that we are also part of the flora and fauna of these islands and that in itself is a humbling thought.

Making Sense

We like things to make sense; it gives us a feeling of well-being and security. With the onward march of the terror group ISIS, record and fatally high temperatures in India, FIFA corruption and constant government policy announcements in the news it can be a relief to walk out and use our senses to remind ourselves of the real world.

Walking allows us to focus on reality.

Walking allows us to slow down and observe seasonal changes and as we do so we start to recognise natural fragrances such as Bluebells or leaf litter, learn bird-songs or understand the light and shadow play at a specific time of year. Wild food foraging allows us to connect deeper to our environment knowing when and where to look for specific berries, leaves, seeds etc.

Wild Food Mandala created by Jo Barker and participants of her foraging walks.

‘The Spell of the Sensuous’ by David Abram was one of my favorite books I used when I studied for my MA. Its subtitle was ‘Perception and language in a More-Than-Human-World’. There is a chapter on the 'Ecology of Magic' that includes this quote,

‘Caught up in a mass of abstractions, our attention hypnotised by a host of human-made technologies that only reflect us back to ourselves, it is all too easy for us to forget our carnal inherence in a more-than-human matrix of sensations and sensibilities.’

Walking encourages us to slow down, that in itself is a start to making sense of it all. When we are at a walking pace we are able to observe and recognise the place that we are in. Steadily one step at a time we are able to become more than human.

Last years Midsummer gathering.

Mindful walking, alone or in a procession, creates a sense of enormous well-being and that is why I will be returning once again to the Salt Way at Midsummer, with others, to share a special experience that will help us make sense of it all.

Walking Freely

Walking Freely.

There is often a choice that needs to be taken. Whether we choose to walk or drive is just one of those choices. Which road or path to take is another.

Road, pavement or footpath?

There is a well known poem by Robert Frost, written in 1916, it ends with this revelation.  I haven’t studied this poem, so I don’t know if it has deeper significant meanings, it may well do as it was written in the middle of the First World War, but I like its simplicity and his understanding of choice.

‘Two roads diverged in wood, and I- I took the one less travelled by, and that has made all the difference.’ Robert Frost

 

Two paths diverging, Sharsted Court. Newnham, Kent.

Walking frees you up. I can remember, whilst learning to drive many years ago that I found I had difficultly in navigating my familiar surroundings. I had to add another layer to my mental map of the place that I knew. It wasn’t just the increased speed of travel that threw me; it was a combination of things.

There were one way streets, dual carriageways and tricky spots, such as steep hills that I would try to avoid, in case I had to do a hill-start.

An upended old boundary stone, with beautiful hand-carved letter.

Walking around my local area was far freer. I could walk where I liked. I used alleyways a lot to cut through between roads, sneaking a peek into other people’s lives via their gardens. I walked over pedestrian bridges, noticing the contrast of the speeding traffic below and my more leisurely and slower gait.

Our shadows are evidence of being out in nature.

When I chose to drive I would find myself unable to observe as much as I was used to. I missed finer details of seasonal change and the heightened awareness that comes from being outside and being able to experience your surroundings with all senses.

The Spell of the Sensuous

This is the title of one of the most insightful books that I dipped into whilst studying for my Masters. I say dipped into, as I will admit I haven’t read it (yet) cover to cover, but like many other wonderful books it is so full of teachings that these momentary immersions can give powerful insights. It was written by David Abram in 1996 and explores the connection between the landscape and the human, ‘suggesting language as one of the factors responsible for humanity’s sensorial disassociation from nature.’

Walking through the seasons.

When I think back to the earlier mentioned days of driving, I think it was a disassociation from the actual experience of being in the environment, in nature that I missed when navigating familiar routes.

 

Walking in the woods, in Springtime.

Being contained within a car and moving at speed stopped me being aware of the actual place I was traveling through. I was in my own ‘bubble’, a man-made environment that I inhabited, along with specific possessions that I needed for the journey, such as music tapes, sunglasses and maps.

Had I been walking, I would have employed all senses; the pace of the walk would have allowed me to hear sounds such as traffic, birdsong and voices. I would even have been aware of subtle scents in the air. Walking allows us to inhabit the space fully.

A Woodland Walk

As I walked out in to the bright sunshine, last Thursday with my sister in her local woodland, we went along a path that we often use.

Taking a familiar path...

Snowdrops were looking small and precious amongst the brown fallen autumn leaves on the edge of the wood.

 

Snowdrops.

Bluebell leaves were starting to poke through deeper leaf litter further along the path and the emerging spiky shoots of Wild Garlic edged the muddy path.

Bluebell shoots poking through the fallen leaves.

We could smell fox, leaf mould and pine in some areas. The wind blew coldly on us as we approached the edge of the estate.

Looking from the woods toward Doddington Estate.

Here we stood and looked back into the wood and saw the sunlight bright and raw, shine onto tree bark, woodland floor and fallen trees.

Bright sunlight on the tree bark showed up much detail.

The sky was a sharp blue and highlighted the detail of the tree canopy, which waved above us.

 

Looking up the tree we saw a squirrels dray, high up.

Being in nature literally made us stop and stare, there was so much to see and hear, birds singing, trees creaking etc, that I now understand even more that it is an immersive experience.

 

Colourful lichen.

This experience cannot be fully understood by those who do not choose or are unable to discover it for themselves.

This is why I am working on two projects at the moment. Both of these are collaborations with other artists. One is working with schools in Kent, encouraging local children to walk out and about into their environs. The other project similarly is about connecting people to place through walking, creating an immersive experience that will engage and inspire.

Being in the environment capturing moments of nature.

The actual form that these will take needs further development and funding, which is being sought at the moment.

Seeing reminders of past seasons, eg: sweet chestnut cases.

Personally, I am putting on a number of day workshops that will explore the themes of walking that I have been studying, exploring and writing about over the last 4 years or so. One is called appropriately, ‘Connecting People to Place’, the second is ‘Women, Walking and Wellbeing’, as I think there is a special place for women, walking in the environment, one which may have been overlooked for a long time.

Old fence posts and trunk, moss attached to both.

Beautiful ring of moss around young sapling.

So, my choice at the moment is to concentrate on these two projects and the two day courses, to encourage people out, to walk in the world and allow them to connect creatively with the place in which they inhabit.