Encounters

Encounters

Situated objects and how we encounter them is a real interest of mine.

This is how I became interested in Spatial Design. I have written about this before in my blog, see ‘The Space between Things’.

I wrote that ‘Design is a powerful process that can be used to influence how people feel in a space. An example of this in its very basic form is to imagine a room, quite bare but at its centre on the floor lays a brown standard hard brick. Now, imagine how this would compare with the same room, again quite bare except in the centre there is a beautiful vase of colourful flowers. Each encounter would feel very different.’

Jan's colourful, busy and warm kitchen was a delight. Nothing contrived about this space.

Watching BBC 2’s ‘The Great Interior Design Challenge’ makes me squirm, I find it compelling but also very formulaic. I guess to make it appeal as entertainment, some drama must be injected into the show, but the ‘good cop/bad cop’ ‘experts’ leave me struggling to comprehend their understanding of design. In the last series they coined such phrases as ‘colour pop’, this time they are mentioning ‘colour winks’. Sigh. Still, I quite like to watch the more professional Tom Dyckhoff struggle with getting his architectural history links into the script. Maybe I am being overly critical of a show that I will want to watch the final of this evening, but it is interesting to see how the contestants contrive groupings of objects within a room’s interior decorating scheme.

So, to recognise real peoples’ choice through their small collections of objects within a space is fascinating, a true insight into their own personal interests, values and expression.

My dresser, with Mark Hearld's book open on it.

Since I wrote an entry in this blog, back in September titled ‘Collections’, I have received a few photos of other peoples dressers. 

Becky's shelves showing my card (middle shelf, off centre.)

Interestingly, one of these had a card on it, that I had made, which had a photograph of my dresser on it. It felt like looking at a form of creative infinity. Another one which was sent to me was of my blog showing the same image on an Ipad, propped up amongst someone else’s personal collection of objects.

My windowsill, another favorite place for collections.

These objects often have such importance to the owner that when gathered together they almost have the reverent feel of an altar. I remember the nature table at school, this to me had a similar feel.

A nature table as illustrated in my 'Going to School' Ladybird book of 1959.

It was a very powerful reminder of the season that we were in and the importance and beauty of natural forms.

Yes, what is it about kitchen dressers?

I am currently reading ‘Toast and Marmalade and other stories’, by Emma Bridgewater.

A kitchen dresser spread from Emma Bridgewater's book, 'Toast and Marmalade'.

As much as I suspected that I would find her writing annoying, perhaps a bit too middle class, I will admit to loving the book.

She has a chapter called, ‘Little altars everywhere’ and ‘What is it about kitchen dressers?’ She writes, ‘It seems as if these shelf arrangements really are like little altars to creative inspiration, whose regular contemplation is a fundamental part of making design.’

My fairly tasteless but lovely collection of ceramic birds.

Yes, I totally agree, as would Mark Hearld, the artist I also wrote about in September, whose abundantly creative and inspirational finds were pictured grouped together on many shelves.

One of my mantlepieces evoking an altar like quality in the limited space available.

Emma Bridgewater starts off her chapter on dressers by realising that she is more aware of everything on her dresser than she is of the contents of her wardrobe and goes on to write. ‘I think mum was using the dresser in the kitchen in Oxford as a giant collage illustrating family life. She declared on her dresser that matching sets were redundant, that you should follow your heart and that if you did, you would make harmony out of dissonance.’

The shop display dresser at 'Number Seven', Dulverton. A gem of a shop.

When we visited friends last weekend I made sure to take some photos of their dresser for use in this blog. They run ‘Number Seven’, in Dulverton, Somerset. It has to be the most exquisite and beautiful shop that I visit regularly. I love to visit so that I can spend time in there just taking in all the precious handcrafted work. This time, it felt very hard to share the space with others, as it was busy with Xmas shoppers.

Jan's dresser in the kitchen at the back of the shop.

I withdrew from the shop space into the back kitchen when it became busy and sat in the back kitchen by the log burner, drinking tea with friends until it was clear again. Here I photographed Jan’s kitchen dresser and a section of the mantelpiece above the fire.

Jan's mantlepiece over her cosy log burner.

Davina uses a large kitchen dresser in the shop as a display area too, so I was quite happy snapping these photos of other dressers, intrigued by their displays of both personal and retail artefacts. 

'Number Seven' dresser before its festive treatment, it will be even more magical this weekend.

Landscape Collections

Collections of objects in the landscape are curious forms. I am thinking of situated objects such as stones that form Stonehenge or any other stone circle. Groupings of worked timber pieces are also curious as they often have or have had a purpose.

 

Timber forms in the landscape. Looking across to Wales.

They are a reminder that we, as humans, have been able to adapt and repurpose natural resources to create solutions for many of our needs, including sacred, industrial and domestic use.

Sea worn and wind weathered timber remnants.

Over the weekend as we walked on Blue Anchor beach after a hearty breakfast at The Driftwood Café, I saw in the distance rows of timber posts. They were well worn and not in a rhythmic organised style that I recognised from the sea defences along the Kent coast, which are called ‘groynes.’

Beautifully sculptural timber.

We walked towards them; it seems to be a natural thing to do on a walk, to be drawn to objects in the landscape, especially collections. I wonder if this goes back to our basic instincts, to draw closer to other forms, so that we are less conspicuous, or maybe we are just naturally curious.

The timbers formed a long procession across the beach.

As we drew closer, I encountered a sculptural array of weathered forms. They were apparently the remains of very old fish-traps. I have seen medieval examples on Tankerton Beach, before the new sea defence work piled loads of shingle on top of them. There are some good examples, still on show to the west of Seasalter beach, but these wooden remains were approachable as the tide was out.

 

Another close up showing the smooth tide of time.

They seemed bigger and more impressive on such a wild and windy day and comforting even, to think of others out there in the past, creating and using these traps.

I shall see over the next week whilst walking, whether there is a comfort in finding man made structures in the landscape. They can be seen as landmarks and points to navigate by, but maybe by their very existence there is a reassurance in their human connection, especially in wild landscapes.

(I completed my MA in September 2014 and recorded the last two months of it in another blog called www.thesaltwayfarer.blogspot.co.uk

Please feel free to look at that anytime, as it is from that, that I am where I am now.)

Collections

 

Collections

When I walk I pick up things. It’s a habit, a deeply engrained one that is difficult to break. My home is full of many things which I have collected on my walks. These are as varied as my walks; one day it may include a beautiful feather from a magpie and another walk may include finding a super smooth small pebble. I write ‘include’, as I have never been able to just pick up one thing.

one collection on top of the piano

There are many which combine to become a visual reminder of the walk. I have collections of natural objects all over my house; they start off on flat surfaces, such as table tops and shelves, in groupings, as they were found, then over a period of time they may be put into a pot or other empty’ish’ vessel, still within the home. As time goes by I note that they get ‘tidied’ and they seem to seek the great outdoors again. There are many pots of found objects by the back doors of the house; they are gradually creeping into their natural habitat.

 

Older collection trying to escape back into the wild.

I do wonder what any archaeologist who may dig up our land in the future would make of it. Our garden is full of found fragments of pretty Victorian glass and crockery, which were discovered on a walk out at Conyer in the old dumps. Ok, not really just discovered on a path, but dug for with great enthusiasm. We also have wonderful piles of ammonites and fossilised ‘Devils Toenails’ from walks on the windswept Redcar beach, beautiful large pink and purple smooth pebbles from Dunster beach in Somerset, where we have had many wild windy walks and of course many, many special shells, pebbles and rocks from our own beaches, here on the Kent coast. Thinking about it, even our car has pockets full of the precious glittery finds that we picked up on our walks around Loch Sunart earlier this year.

Recording

One way that I thought I could restrain myself from bringing home so many things was to photograph what I see.

 

Found objects from walk on Seasalter beach.

But that has now just become another way of collecting. I collect views, landscapes, still lives of plants, the atmospheric effect of the seasons etc. So I have tried over the last week to just take just a few mementoes from the walks and photograph them when I come home. In doing so I hope that that will be enough of a visual reminder and I can move the pieces out sooner into the garden. But the fact of the matter is I love the things I choose on my walks. They speak to me of the season, the place and remind me of whom I was walking with or if I was alone. Once in the home they become even more beautiful or unusual as they are seen out of context. I see that they are no longer competing for my attention but being seen almost as art pieces.

My Dresser

I have a dresser that is full too. It has some useful crockery on it, but it is also full of things that I have found whilst out walking.

 

Detail of my dresser.

These walks take me into charity shops, junk shops, boot fairs etc. I used to feel pretty guilty about this collecting until I read a book by the artist Mark Hearld.

‘Mark Hearld’s Workbook’ charts his inspiration and is a collection of his wonderful work, so far. He lives in a house that makes mine look tame. He also has every surface covered in things, but refers to them as his inspiration.

My dresser with Mark Hearld's book on it showing his dresser...

In describing his work, Simon Martin writes that ‘he sees the act of collecting such items, at flea markets and junk shops, as creative, an activity akin to making a collage.’So I think perhaps my act of collecting, recording and displaying my walking treasures is also artistically acceptable and I could perhaps even become proud of it!

Inspiring Environments

Last Friday I went on a workshop held in Kings Wood, near Ashford in Kent, run by Stour Valley Arts. It was titled ‘Inspiring Environments’ and was run to encourage group leaders to use the natural setting of Kings Wood as a classroom in which people could be inspired to create artwork together and therefore positively engage with each other.

 

Found objects from Kings Wood.

We were given a demonstration by a couple of artists on how a number of useful tools could be used, encouraged to explore the area we were to make our art in and then started collecting useful things to create our own artwork. We worked in small groups and by lunchtime all of us had created wonderful large art works in the wood. They were all very different, but all had a story to go with them. It seemed that the imagination was inspired by the very act of creation. My group collected feathers, twigs, silvered with fungi and dried bluebell stalks. We found a natural depression in the ground and created a nest like structure that we then put fir cones in and a random bright red gladioli flower that we found on the ground. It had its own story, but I am sure you can make one up yourself that would be just as interesting.

Nature Connection

Over the weekend I went with my family to the Permaculture Convergenge. It was a wonderful weekend. The food was great and we were surrounded by lovely like minded people.

Leaf, left on ground (not picked up and kept) at Gilwell Park.

One workshop that I attended was led by Klaudia van Gool. She encouraged us to take our shoes off and connect with nature. We stood barefoot in a large circle under the huge Oak at Gilwell Park and became mindful of ourselves, the ground beneath our feet, the roots of the tree under them and the canopy of leaves above our heads. We learnt how to see with ‘owl’ eyes, hear with ‘deer’ ears and walk barefoot like ‘fox’. It was a beautiful educational and meditative experience. For once I was actually being animal, being not doing. I have planned a barefoot walk with a friend early next week. I shall practice these experiential nature connections while walking and see just how much difference it can make, perhaps I will be fully sated by this and not be tempted to pick up things and bring them home, or record the journey in photographs. As the walking artist Hamish Fulton has said about his work, ‘The walk is the work.’

Physical nature connection, spiders webs this morning.

 

(I completed my MA last September and recorded the last two months of it in another blog called www.thesaltwayfarer.blogspot.co.uk

Please feel free to look at that anytime, as it is from that, that I am where I am now.)