Joya: arte + ecología - post residency update
In September I attended a residency at Joya: arte + ecología, in the heart of the Parque Natural Sierra María-Los Vélez, Andalucía.
When I set out from Granada, floods surrounded the city, thunder echoed overhead, and low clouds hung over the Sierra Nevada Mountains. I was unsure if I would even reach the small town of Vélez-Rubio. Typically one of the sunniest and driest areas in Europe, it was interesting to see the terrain under such stormy conditions. Within a couple of days, the water had evaporated, the clouds had lifted and the arid landscape reappeared.
I was the first person to arrive at the house, and after setting up in the studio, I was unsure of what to do. I had taken some R&F pigment sticks that I had picked up in Berlin and had never used before. I decided I may as well play around with something new - something completely unfamiliar. As I worked with the pigment, I became more interested in the pure physicality of the material rather than what I was drawing.
The best part of this process was when I took the drawing off the wall; the individual panels became more interesting than the whole. The image below is from one of the middle sections of the paper. The drawing was photographed in the morning sun resulting in a strong shadow created by the texture of the pigment.
Even more fascinating was that a few days later, while travelling in a car to Vélez-Rubio, I spotted a landscape that I decided I wanted to work from during my time at the residency. The relationship to the drawing didn’t become apparent to me until the first day I went down to the landscape and photographed it in the morning light.
All I knew, at this point, was that the landscape fascinated me because of the desolate nature of it. However, when I came back to the studio and uploaded the images, the relationship between this landscape and the initial drawing I had made on the first day at the residency became undeniably connected. I had created the drawing spontaneously and without any familiarity with the surrounding landscape. The two images below show the visual connection.
Drawing
R&F Pigment Stick - Titanium-Zinc White on black paper
Digital Photograph
Parque Natural Sierra María Los Vélez
Almería, Spain
37°45'13.2"N 2°05'17.3"W
Human intervention had ploughed this land into formation. Vast tracks of machine aided drawings imprinted onto the surface.
I spent almost every day for the rest of the residency, visiting, walking, memorising, imprinting this landscape. I went at different times of the day to observe the changes in light. I have a lot of documentation to go through. Video stills, stop motion, drawings, photography and meandering words that I now need to decipher. I intentionally left the work unopened for a month after returning home. I wanted to see it all from a fresh perspective.
At the beginning of the residency, I set out to explore the possibility of memorising a vast and desolate landscape. One that at first appeared like empty space. I wanted to see if it was possible to find familiarity amongst the repetition of rock and shadow. Without any prominent landmark to help guide the path, was it possible to memorise minute differences in the characteristic of rocks that essentially all look the same? The only way I could think of doing this was through repetition and slow, meditative walking. Could I walk over the same footsteps of where I had previously walked? Not close to where I had already walked but over the exact same path?
Video Still
Parque Natural Sierra María Los Vélez
Almería, Spain
37°45'11.7"N 2°05'12.3"W
Video Still
Parque Natural Sierra María Los Vélez
Almería, Spain
37°45'11.7"N 2°05'12.3"W
As it turns out, memorising a desolate and repetitive landscape is not only possible but relatively easy once you slow down and set the intention, heighten your awareness and keenly observe your space. I only wish I had made the walk larger now (or next time).
The mark of repetition imprinted onto the surface (a nod to Richard Long), traversing the machine drawn landscape as shown in the images below. It took approx. 1/2 a day to accurately memorise the landscape and another 1 1/2 days of walking to start imprinting the landscape with a drawing.
Careful observation of the top righthand corner of this photo shows the large circular-shaped land drawing
The only way to create this type of imprint is through the repetition of walking, memorising the landscape to the point that you replicate your previous journey - footprint to footprint. I had initially wanted to walk in a large circle. However, on slowing down and carefully observing the environment, I soon realised there were markers hidden within the repetition of rock and shadow. Hardy little plants that were tough enough to survive a machine ploughing through their space. I started to not only recognise them but to see the beauty and fascinating characteristics within them. Even amongst the rocks, there were marks of identification, and they all started to take on something special and unique inherent in their features. So it was these markers that created the final shape of the drawing and became the reference points for memorising the landscape.
The gallery below is in the same order that these makers appeared along the walk. Each plant was tiny and hidden and yet became so obvious once I had taken the time to notice them. They became familiar like old friends, and I would look forward to walking with them each day. The most interesting part was when I gave my presentation during the residency, Simon (the co-owner of Joya: arte + ecología) had said that somehow every one of these plants that had appeared in my walk were different medicinal plants of the Mediterranean. The rocks with their markings were fossils. Insects ancient and new became part of the walk. Time collapsed. Even the spaces and holes between the rocks became markers of identification.
I had become so familiar with this space that I started to notice small insects and their different behaviours at different times of the day. The flies all came out in the middle of the day. Rock-dwelling creatures would retreat during the heat. There was a hole on the last bend of the walk that had a little rock place over a small doorway (image #15 below) that at around 4 pm a small black cricket/cicada looking insect would squeeze past the door to come out and enjoy the cooler part of the day. He/she would often retreat and run back in to the safety of the ground when I initially started to walk past and yet would be waiting outside by the time I came back again. Over time it stopped retreating as I walked past. I had become as familiar to this landscape as it was becoming to me.
Connection to the land, walking, memorising, observing and respecting a space was inspired by the indigenous people of my home country. I wanted to gain a small insight into how we as humans connect to the living, breathing landscape we inhabit. I can only imagine the power of thousands of years of walking, storytelling, singing, language and cultural connection to country. I have the most profound respect for the indigenous people of our land and a heavily ingrained sadness deep within me for all that we have stolen, languages lost, and knowledge evaporated into thin air from the violent colonisation of this country.
A shadow follows me on the walk back to the house.
Every day I wore a hat. Not for any aesthetic reason, mainly because it was hot. On the last day of the residency, I forgot my hat. I realised that I prefer the photos taken without it. The hat and the black dress make the images seem biblical in some way. I’m not sure why.
Having fun messing around in Photoshop
I have a whole other series of work that I started during the residency. It involves local pigment found in a riverbed, local house paint and mud. However, this will have to wait until the February post…