ARTISTS TALKING

# 22 [23 August 2007]

Blog written 26th June, 9.50am

Woke up this morning in the cottage in Roundstone feeling very hot. The central heating system seems over zealous! I have become acclimatised to island life and sleeping in a draughty shed. Strangely although my shower last night was unbelievably fantastic, refreshing and cleansing, I am now yearning for the very REALNESS of the island and the way I felt so vital and alive there in spite of the basic facilities and lack of water. Thoughts of lying awake, hunkered down in my sleeping bag, wind and rain circulating the shed outside have become memories and as such a great loss, the result of which is an overwhelming, engulfing sadness.

On waking I read several pages of the book by Tim Robinson, Connemara, Listen to the Wind. It contains many references and uses the Irish language, which has its roots in Celtic and/or North African language. Of couse it was the english around 1200 that chose to impose the anglicised versions of Gaelic onto this country - evidence of empire building? At that time it was punishable to use the Irish version of place names.Yet here today in Connemara the accents are broad and the native tongue frequently heard. Young people now learn Irish at school and teachers are expected to be fluent enough to teach using the traditional tongue.

# 21 [22 August 2007]

Blog written just before leaving the island

It is strange to be leaving. I have grown accustomed to the pace and way of life here. The relaince on nature and natural cycles of light, dark, wind, rain which become the order by which life is dictated. So quickly one falls into a different pattern of living. Now I am wondering how easy it will be to slip back into the world at home with emails, phones, modern stressful living, flushing loos, and plentiful water.

Because we are leaving a day early I will have some time to spend on the mainland, to acclimatise back into civilisation.

# 20 [21 August 2007]

Blog written 25th June 2007, late afternoon

The majority of the artists have left - a boat came at 1.30 to collect them and it is possible that the remaining few of us will also leave tonight as the wind shows no sign of abating. This is a day earlier than planned. Understandably Rosie knows the risks that the weather presents and the very real possibility of being trapped on the island when supplies have run out. Some have flights to catch tomorrow evening.

In the short lull between boats I have managed to make the final memorial piece (IV). This is a releif as I had planned to make it tomorrow on the last day here but our premature departure has dictated different plans.

I decided to place the cairn on the highest part of the island, visible from east, west and north. Using stone dotted around the hill leading up to the site I hope the piece is both reminiscent of a walker's mark to signify reaching a hilltop but also references the Irish Celtic tradition of cairns or cenotaphs as memorials to the lost. Mine is (and by neccesity) simple - unlike those that sport heavily decorative work such as found on the Aran Islands.

The third memorial (Candles) is now impossible to perform. Too much wind and no longer a dark evening as a backdrop to the piece. Its not a problem though - it gives me a reason to return here.

# 19 [5 August 2007]

Blog written on Inishlacken dated 25th June 2007

Very tired.

Extremely windy outside and choppy sea. Wondering if the boat will get here ok as several people are leaving; only five of us will remain.

Had planned to make the third memorial piece today but it requires the lighting of candles outdoors so may have to wait until the wind drops. I have placed the candles in their positions ready for action just in case.

Last nights meal was delicious. Padriag (I think that is his name) caught around 30 mackerel in his nets on the way over from the mainland and these were gutted and cooked on the open fire by Eamon. Accompanied by garlic potatoes and washed down with red wine , delicious. There was much music too. Irish folk songs and tales from Eamon egged on by Siobhan and music from Kate, the Australian composer who currently lives in Holland.

Its a small world. I found out that Rosie's sister works at Addenbrookes Hospital in Cambridge in the Speech Therapy department - the exact place where I spent two years on a residency in 2004.

# 18 [5 August 2007]

Note to recent retrospective blogs.

I was hoping that by writing these blogs once I was back at home, they would keep alive the memory of my Inishlacken adventure. In fact the reverse is happening and each one seems only to serve to remove the experience further into the depths of my mind.

If you look at the dates, my entries are getting further and further apart - a sign of everyday life making a takeover bid inside my head.

I can identify with those who never return either physically or metaphorically to a place once left. I am wondering if this approach keeps the memory pure, unadulterated and unfettered by present happenings that absorb the mind.

# 17 [27 July 2007]

Blog written 25th June, mid afternoon

Good conversation has been had today. This may be becaue I was happy(ish) with the work I made and so I am feeling positive, but I also think everyone is really settled into the island routine now, and people are feeling more confident and relaxed with each other.Funding systems are a favourite topic, the comparison between England and other nations. Also the benefit of space to think.

On a more basic note we all agree we are beginning to smell. Washing in the sea does help but not everyone is happy to brave the cold water. I have sympathy for the more recently arrived artists who are trapped in the small cottage each evening with those of us who have been here a few days!

More work ideas are flooding my mind and I have two further pieces that I think I will make. These too will be memorials. Tomorrow I will walk to the highest spot of the island up by the old water tower and remains of the windmill and make a cairn.Both a symbol of achievement - as in walkers reaching a summit - but also as a symbol of existence, seen from all sides of the island. Throughout Irish history, cenotaphs and cairns have been made as memorials to the lost. Although many of these have elaborate celtic decoration, some are simple . They hold an eloquence of meaning by direct statement. Although memorials can have both Pagan or religious roots, for me in simple terms, they mark the spot and it is this aspect that I wish to honour.

Rosie and I have talked about the possibility of an exchange between Ireland and England. My studio is situated in a coastal area and there are some similarities between Roundstone and home. I think this is something that I should pursue once back in England.

# 16 [20 July 2007]

Blog written 25th June early morning

I have woken feeling bright, energetic and full of excited anticipation for making. What is it about being an artist that revives the soul and invigorates the mind and body? Is it because of the inherent need to create? Are artists responding to their genetic code? Or is it because artists choose to listen to their inner creative voice more than others? And by responding to a subconscious desire we automatically feel fulfilled and enriched?

After seeing a large pile of sheep fleeces abandoned and wet alongside one of the island tracks I started thinking about the commerciality of living and the need for currency in order to exist. Islanders here led a simple life and yet still maintained (and needed) a trading relationship with the mainland. At its most potent, the economy on Inishlacken thrived. The fish, wool and boat building industry [today the word 'industry' implies big business unlike on Inishlacken, which would have been small] provided much needed commodities. But now, as in many parts of the world today, fish are caught only when quota's allow, boat building is not a viable business and the fleece of a sheep is worthless.

These thoughts form the basis for Memorial to the Islanders II, a performance piece incorporating the fleeces from the sheep of Inishlacken.

Rosie and Una agree to film and shoot stills and the performance is scheduled for later in the day. The weather is wonderful, hot and sunny with a light breeze - perfect. Phil warns me to watch out for ticks in the fleece. It's not advice I relish although I am grateful to him never the less.

The piece goes off ok, its hard to tell when you are the performer. Una seems pleased with the view through the video lens. I will wait until I return home to Suffolk to pass judgment. The video editing will give me ample chance to analyze every second!

We sunbathe afterwards and chat and I feel the skin on my arms begin to burn. The sand is white and the sea an amazing blue, more reminiscent of the Mediterranean than the Atlantic. This is truly an idyllic place on a day like today.

# 15 [15 July 2007]

More images of Memorial I

# 14 [15 July 2007]

Blog entry for 24th June

This evening my first piece of work was created; it is the first in a planned series of four entitled Memorial to the Islanders. Thinking about life (and death) on Inishlacken, the need to take the dead to the mainland by boat for their last blessings and burial and all this at the mercy of the weather, typifies the routine imposed onto life here by the elements. The Irish are known for their religious beliefs, looking from the outside for those of us from other cultures, sometimes it can seem more like religious fervor. So I am left wondering what impact a death must have had on this small close-knit community. Although any life that is lost is a tragedy to the Inishlacken Islanders it must have been a keenly felt loss. Not just because the religious rituals could not take place here but also because the size, efficiency and viability of the community would be less strong with the loss just one person.

Memorial to the Islanders I began as a private work but ended as one involving the whole Inishlacken community. My intention to make 200 paper boats (one for each islander) became a shared task and by 3.30 in the afternoon, without any coercion on my part, pretty much everyone was around the table in Finklater’s Cottage folding, pulling and teasing paper boats from torn sketchbook sheets. Mo, Siobhan, Emma, Jenny, Sean, Kate, Phil set up an industrious boat-making factory with an average work rate of three boats per minute. In a short time we had made 160, and to my sadness also ran out of paper. To mitigate this two sheets of larger watercolour paper was used to make a flagship and rear guard vessel, big enough to have carried the remaining 40 of the population.

Today is also St John’s Day, celebrated across Ireland and linked to the longest day but also a Catholic observance. Fires are lit along the coastline and this evening several could be seen from here, glowing along the mainland and the coast of Inishnee island. Today’s windy weather with some showers gave way, as if ordered, to a warm, dry evening so by 11.30pm being outside in the fading light was a pleasant experience

As the light was lost and the moon assumed control, the flaming boats were launched by their makers into a large rock pool whose shape bore a loose resemblance to Inishlacken. Against the darkening sky the flames illuminated the pool and surrounding area as Kate played the Bodrhan in a solemn rhythmic beat. People stopped talking and stood still, watching.

# 13 [11 July 2007]

One of the problems of retrospective blogging is that the dates can get confused. And it is no surprise this has happened in my busy and currently rather disorganized life. This entry was in fact written on 22nd June and precedes the last three entries.

More people have arrived today, Mo, Jemima and Siobhan. Talk is about the project next year and artists who are on Rosie's wish list to invite next year.

Went swimming – very cold water – Rosie and Phillip came too and we swam and talked about the Venice Biennale (Rosie went to Venice just before the project started). The opening of the English Pavillion and Tracey Emin’s speech, her desperate attempt never to grow up but to remain disruptive, controversial. Does she need to do this anymore? I read a press article (or was it something on the television?) that stated she was now part of the establishment. Maybe she still feels the need to grab the headline and kick over the traces lest she lose her appeal to the press and publicity to boot.

I’ve thought a lot today about work and the differences here to my everyday life back in England. The most liberating aspect is not being at the mercy of the mobile phone or computer. It has been three days and I feel free! I am running on leisurely Irish time. The practical work has been done at a steady pace and in the company of like-minded people. This makes me question the tendency for life to be so instant and frantic. Deadlines need to be met but at what expense? Does true creativity flourish in a climate of peace and tranquil thought and reflection? Can it truly be manifest from an environment of pressure and brinkmanship?