1st September 2019

'Shadows'

Clare's words

Witness       

Flesh trunk

Tree hanger

Spine-ed

Wrist veins taut

Float 

Arm held

Float

Squat magpie leaf

Shoulder held

Sound wave plane

Up

Crack line stick

Phantom limb

Limbs get thinner

Lines

Slowly row

Sweep

Extended arm

Raises  body

Like mud

Folk dance circle

Tree-bodied

Dig in drag in

Dig 

Squat

Walk on hip shuffle

Solemn

Leaf to wrist to elbow

Travel in dough

Body smoothing

Into movement

Each part strongly attached

And moving out

Point shirk shake

Swirl animal

Crawl

Find forest

Another thin tree

To hold me

Four legged 

Dig scrawl

Find a lean post

Give over

Fluid roll to hole

Disappear

Head into it

Bodied in earth

Tree circle

Holds in symmetry

Underground

Around

Up

Rise up

Another branch 

Rise

Cross rafting

Home going

Stick leaving

Bee's words

With ‘shadows’ as my lens
I
Merged myself with Maple, enjoyed a
Mapletail
Laid myself on a mossy bough in the woods
caught sight of a leg behind
didn’t see it as belonging to me. 
Witnessed two movers seeing one being
with the immateriality of things
the other as being
with the things themselves

Sophia's words

"colours are the children of light and shadow”
A quote by Prapto I have been working with.

There is so much colour in shade
 shadows not only give depth to a landscape, but also contrast.
Going in the shadow of two inhabited rabbit holes,
Measuring my bodies shapes to trees and there shadows
Disappearing shadows in clouds covering the light, blending all into shades of grey tinted couloirs.
When the light hits an object, a tree or plant there is often a small shadow on the very bottom. 

11 November 2018

Remembrance

Clare's words

Cut tree
Left lumber
Slash branch ends
Back scalped
Up ended

A brick lived into roots of upturned hawthorn
Materials colliding
Helping themselves
Growing together
Body and earth
Brick and tree


The war rages frozen
This meadow
They went to save
All jangled in their own lives
They enveloped great deeds
And left
Foot imprint
Down through
Leaf mulch
Each leaf body
It’s own fallen

2nd September 2018

Clare's writing

Slow trudge feel

A slow walk

Of three

Same slow

Rhythm

Through gold flowers

To whistle tress

Ceremonious

Integral

Loved ones in air and earth

Seeing their own worlds

Being their own worlds

Sharing the air and earth

Time and memory

Hell and heaven

Peace

8th July 18

Clare's 60th

Based on compound words from Donna Caraway’s Staying With The Trouble

Re-membering
Sticky -threading
Side-winding
Think-with
Not-yet-hatched
Being-with
Re-seeding

There were some others…

3 together moving
Co-evolving
Flourishing-with
Kin-making

Writing

Oak guardian
Re-seed me
Re-fertilize
Seeds be around me
Under each foot as I step
The world flows up and out
Butterfly joys
Magpie joy
Goldfinch skim
leaves
Sun re-seed me
Re-plenish
Re-seed me with letting go
Re-seed me so I gernminate
Re-seed me so I blossom
Re-seed us though hope is low
Re-seeding let things flow

3rd June 18

A Dillette..

11 March '18

The Wood of Wild Garlic

11th February '18

Soil and marks made

Soil is the skin of the earth, and we comprise of the same minerals

 

January 7th 2018

whose trail Tight- rope wate-r sod oak leaf on spread thistle point its own fairytale prick to sleep to dissolve to

Swirl swirl of mud in upraised leaf water swirl of ash vapour inside and outside body swirl and moisture folding in and under dissolve and form and dissolve

bare hedge opening

walk wide legged, soft footed ground sogging at each step boot, foot, rooting upwards my legs allow the feet to go mud descent dry hooked hawthorn wind blown off course stand firm and low allow mud slippage head caught, hand caught gather-puddles

Trees torn off branches take large ones and untangle hook them on body twice one falls a piece stays like hair other falls on top a graceful shaping of lines a coupling

the loose part some forgotten memories I hang on living low branch to be in air

the next broken branch I hook it hangs the last larger one I push up through empty branches till it sticks

 move away three hanging limbs

 then the large one falls to earth as winded trees do not meant to stay or try to mend the broken branches so many bits to break off what is left the autumn tree enjoying the sun and deep down replenishing its roots for spring

 Place a wind fallen branch on each wooden fence post balanced in the middle so they sway building my own trees my inability to recreate nature I imitate it Mending? making with broken bits man -tampered wind -witched Hand -gathered How to repair I build a row of trees from broken pieces probably the only way in this world’s story

 dead vines seem fragile these entanglements are strong and ungiving they want to hold on