Interesting reflections, as always, Sam. I like the title of your piece, it spoke to me because I'm just embarking on my MA project about salt from Cheshire. Here, it's buried underground rather than in the mists of water, so I shall have to go deep as I explore parallels between my place and its material.
I liked the parallels you drew between your drawing and the repetitive tracing of paths in your area, much like salt's various journeys from its source here over the years.
I'm on the Contemporary Art and Archaeology course at UHI, which is how I found out about The Life Boat.
The salt has its geological roots in Cheshire, but has had a surprisingly entangled global life, so my project will be about that history but also contemplate the way I work with the material itself, and what it might tell me about my own sense of place, of lacking roots. It's already throwing up some interesting connections.
Thank you for your tenacity in each aspect of your work.
Life Raft has proved to be another example. It’s a bit like accompanied diving! Little by little we each benefit from the energies of each other. We get to know our own space better by reflection and by just keeping showing up, alone and together.
Diving partners! Yes, I like that :-) I love how a regular group of us has gradually formed. It's become a highlight of my week. Hope to see you again this afternoon!
Lovely writing Sam, that I will want to return to. This is exactly how I feel about the small quiet place that I inhabit. There’s a quote I came across a while back that expresses it so well; I’m not sure if I’ve shared it with you -
“I liked the idea of being confined to a small place and then having to dig into that smallness.”
Paul Strand, from “dialogue with photography” Interviews by Paul Hill and Thomas Cooper
Thank you Michela! You're certainly a very fine example of thinking small and going deep into that space. That's a very apposite quote too, thank you for sharing it.
There is so much to identify with in your words Samantha and those of Kavanagh. I am at a place in life where knowing my own small patch is so important. Noticing the order in which the flowers appear on the grazings and moor and understanding what to look for next.
Thanks Maggie! I'm also aware of the privilege this involves too - seeing so many having to flee, leave their patch, or see it destroyed. There's always this undercurrent too, isn't there? Yesterday I went again to see if 'our' arctic terns had returned to their nearby breeding site. They should be here by now, but still no sign...I'll be so relieved if/when they do finally appear.
I’m restored by this essay and your work. It’s easy to question simplicity, recursiveness, even mundanity in a world that is constantly promoting “Bigger, newer, shinier!” Your commitment to digging deep is a beautiful reminder of the nourishment within a steady, focused, dedication to one subject, technique or place but also a necessary and bold balancing. Thank you.🙏
I’m away walking on the Camino for a week, so missed today’s session. I love how you describe the creative process, (doubts, oh yes!), with Woolf and Kavanagh. My repetitive process this week is walking, one foot in front of the other, step by step. Yet somehow, in practice, it’s not at all repetitive.
Sorry not to see you today but it will be great to hear about your pilgrimage when you return! Yes, the rhythm of walking takes us somewhere mentally as well as physically, no?
Thank you once again for an insightful piece of writing. You and Virginia Woolf have put into words exactly what I experience every time I get into making new work, and find difficult to articulate. What seemed like a fabulous idea turns into ‘is this good enough, am I right to carry on, should I destroy this and start again’. It’s a leap of faith to work through those negative thoughts. (Your drawing/painting is looking wonderful definitely worth carrying on!)
Thanks for the encouragement Liza! Yes, Virginia Woolf is a great companion on the creative journey - her diaries are so rich, personal and thoughtful.
Interesting reflections, as always, Sam. I like the title of your piece, it spoke to me because I'm just embarking on my MA project about salt from Cheshire. Here, it's buried underground rather than in the mists of water, so I shall have to go deep as I explore parallels between my place and its material.
I liked the parallels you drew between your drawing and the repetitive tracing of paths in your area, much like salt's various journeys from its source here over the years.
Oh wow that sounds like a fascinating project Iain! What subject/discipline is your MA?
I'm on the Contemporary Art and Archaeology course at UHI, which is how I found out about The Life Boat.
The salt has its geological roots in Cheshire, but has had a surprisingly entangled global life, so my project will be about that history but also contemplate the way I work with the material itself, and what it might tell me about my own sense of place, of lacking roots. It's already throwing up some interesting connections.
Ah, of course! It’s such a great programme - I’d love to hear more as your project evolves :-)
So lovely and welcoming: reflections and painting and title; thank you. I like “This Salted Light” and hope you choose to keep it, in due time.
I also wonder if a new title for a future work has been born: “mysteries and epiphanies”.
Maybe - if I ever experience an epiphany it will be worth commemorating! :-)
Thank you for your tenacity in each aspect of your work.
Life Raft has proved to be another example. It’s a bit like accompanied diving! Little by little we each benefit from the energies of each other. We get to know our own space better by reflection and by just keeping showing up, alone and together.
Diving partners! Yes, I like that :-) I love how a regular group of us has gradually formed. It's become a highlight of my week. Hope to see you again this afternoon!
Lovely writing Sam, that I will want to return to. This is exactly how I feel about the small quiet place that I inhabit. There’s a quote I came across a while back that expresses it so well; I’m not sure if I’ve shared it with you -
“I liked the idea of being confined to a small place and then having to dig into that smallness.”
Paul Strand, from “dialogue with photography” Interviews by Paul Hill and Thomas Cooper
Thank you Michela! You're certainly a very fine example of thinking small and going deep into that space. That's a very apposite quote too, thank you for sharing it.
Yes, I am aren't I :-) Glad you like the quote; it partners well with our desire to find and make marks.
There is so much to identify with in your words Samantha and those of Kavanagh. I am at a place in life where knowing my own small patch is so important. Noticing the order in which the flowers appear on the grazings and moor and understanding what to look for next.
Thanks Maggie! I'm also aware of the privilege this involves too - seeing so many having to flee, leave their patch, or see it destroyed. There's always this undercurrent too, isn't there? Yesterday I went again to see if 'our' arctic terns had returned to their nearby breeding site. They should be here by now, but still no sign...I'll be so relieved if/when they do finally appear.
Yes, deepening connection involves joy and pain! Hope they arrive soon
I’m restored by this essay and your work. It’s easy to question simplicity, recursiveness, even mundanity in a world that is constantly promoting “Bigger, newer, shinier!” Your commitment to digging deep is a beautiful reminder of the nourishment within a steady, focused, dedication to one subject, technique or place but also a necessary and bold balancing. Thank you.🙏
Thank you Kimberly, I’m so happy to hear this!
I’m away walking on the Camino for a week, so missed today’s session. I love how you describe the creative process, (doubts, oh yes!), with Woolf and Kavanagh. My repetitive process this week is walking, one foot in front of the other, step by step. Yet somehow, in practice, it’s not at all repetitive.
Sorry not to see you today but it will be great to hear about your pilgrimage when you return! Yes, the rhythm of walking takes us somewhere mentally as well as physically, no?
A profound and deep wisdom on display here. Worlds within worlds.
Thank you Michael - any wisdom on display here is certainly borrowed!
Thank you once again for an insightful piece of writing. You and Virginia Woolf have put into words exactly what I experience every time I get into making new work, and find difficult to articulate. What seemed like a fabulous idea turns into ‘is this good enough, am I right to carry on, should I destroy this and start again’. It’s a leap of faith to work through those negative thoughts. (Your drawing/painting is looking wonderful definitely worth carrying on!)
Thanks for the encouragement Liza! Yes, Virginia Woolf is a great companion on the creative journey - her diaries are so rich, personal and thoughtful.