cold day reveals more

I've spent most of my summer on Arran, my home, my spiritual centre, where I feel safe. My journey recently has revealed a great deal about transitioning; how we regard change, as transitioning, when it's not that at all. It's just moving stuff from one place to another, the stuff comes too!
I almost didn't come back to the mainland, I may not stay long, who knows, so much of life here distresses me and I long for the silence of the sea in my head.
This image seems to say what words can't, not my words at any rate. Layers, depths, submerged thoughts, tones of experience, shades of doubt, they're all here within this image taken on a cold day this summer, on a shoreline overlooking Kintyre on Arran's west coast. A favourite place.

visual thinking

I wanted to make a stand, to show I'm different now, to say out loud, 'look at this change'
when there really is so little to show or to say. So what?
But there is a lot to feel; subjective mutability seems to be the way of transition, it appears?

restoration

I'm back on the mainland now, after a very difficult period on the island where our house was carefully reclaimed from the depths, mostly, I must say, by this young man here; my son, whose strength, endurance and pragmatism gave me hope when all seemed lost. Thanks kid.

reclamation of self

Making inroads into trying to get back into my own self, wherever that person is now. I'm reading Bridges' Transitions again. Feels as if I just didn't get it at all the first time round. Also seems that I'm a Forest Dweller; this is a very comforting thought as I try to reflect on my distressing transitioning.
I can 'see' my head, but can't articulate it yet, so wont.
This is what I did this afternoon in my studio here; a textual collage of what I feel but can't say out loud.
Maybe I will talk about it later....maybe not.

violation

I didn't mean to do this; say out loud, here, what I really think, but, I will now.

I struggle with transitioning.

I miss my island home.

I can't see my shoreline.

I can't think at all.

As I move forwards into a void, I leave behind a place of memories, of sadness and peace, insulated and isolated from the other world of grown up real people living real lives earning real money to buy real stuff.

What I want I can't buy, I can only feel..........and remember.

The studio I worked in every day and the shoreline I walked every day, knit together into an unimaginable  warmth and sense of 'rightness'.

I left them both.

The image above is one I took on Saturday. It's of my studio door; smashed in, the interior scattered in the search for....whatever a mindless brain conjures up.

Imagine a blackbird's voice at dusk, the soft whisper of waves dropping onto sand, now look again at the image above and hear the thoughts of the person who has violated my space, my memory, my studio on Arran. What sounds did they make as they kicked in the red door into an unknown world.

I am sad.

Sebald

I'm reading WG Sebald's 'The Rings of Saturn'. I wont describe it; go and read it. It was suggested to me by a dear colleague at the other end of the world.

In it, he talks of, among many other things, fishermen, 'strung out in a long line on the margin of the sea, at regular intervals'. 'They just want to be in a place where they have the world behind them, and before them is nothing but emptiness'.

I know this feeling, staring intently at the cool horizon, full of possibility, held gently by the waves' murmerings, even here, on the world's edge. Pacific, Atlantic.....it's the same.

Poster Day at UWS

I'd like to first of all say congratulations to Rachael! Well done kid! You deserve every success! You are an inspiration, thank you. Taking part in the Poster Event has helped me to see where I might be going on this journey; one which is difficult to articulate but sometimes a glimmer appears and I am able to write what I feel. So have a read below and let me know if this resonates at all with any of you; this is what I'm trying to do achieve.

The Spaces Between

The process of transition from one stage in life to the next necessitates a state of liminality, of being on the outside, inhabiting a borderland, while still inextricably intertwined with that which has been left behind and that which is yet to come. Human nature is fundamentally social; therefore human experience cannot be understood separately from the environments in which they occur. As an integral part of creative practice, how might reflexivity offer insight into this liminal state of becomingness, of betwixt and between?

Working from a phenomenological framework, through auto-ethnographic vignettes, textual collage, research journals and creative writing, the artist-researcher seeks to describe and systematically analyse personal experience through creative practice in order to understand cultural experience, the inter-relatedness of the micro in the macro.