ARTISTS TALKING

# 12 [9 July 2007]

Blog written 23rd June, 10am

Woke up late, probably something to do with the wine and the good craic last night. Strangely I feel very rested. After clearing up the evenings debris I have decided to walk the south side of the island and search for the Holy Well that is mentioned in Tim Robinson's book 'Connemara, Listen to the Wind'.

"It can be found on the south side flagstone rocks that project out to sea in a shoulder shape. Look for a small hole approx 6 inches in diameter and a couple of feet deep. The Well appears to have been truncated since the top layer of rock has sheared off into the waves, making it shallower than in the past"

The author has dedicated an entire chapter to Inishlacken and the arts project - he speaks of "painters hunkered down amongst the rocky outcrops sheltering from the wind". I like the term hunkered - it is so descriptive and very exocative of the need to get into a sheltered position to protect oneself from the elements when on the island.

The book includes very useful information about the history of the island. It was owned by two families - the Boughtons and the Macreadys - of these two, there are now only Boughtons left - no longer in Ireland but in America.

The book details many geographical features, much of them named after someone or something. Other features have names that have grown out of folklore or legend.

Today the slow-burn ideas for work are gathering pace. Memorial is a word that is recurring in my thoughts, there has to be some way to visibly mark the islanders. I am thinking about survival and what the essentials are for a community to thrive. Food, warmth/shelter, an active economy, a sense of community, the ability to pursue ones beliefs. This is the beginning of a list in my sketchbook which will no doubt grow. The thriving community of Inishlacken numbered almost 200 in its heyday. I may make some work looking at the demise of the community, either a hommage to or a mark of the past. I think the conditions for survival of a community will bring another layer to anything I make.

# 11 [2 July 2007]

Blog written 22nd June, 9pm

I have realised I have not updated the blog about my work, so from slow beginnings, my thoughts are beginning to move forward. Here they are..

I am beginning at last to fill my sketchbook with some ideas and information that might have potential. I am intrigued that the island has no burial ground and no church has ever stood here. Regular church worship was dictated by the skill of the boatmen fighting the elements to cross the water. The dead were taken by boat for burial on the mainland. I have been reading a book by Tim Robinson that details the life, traditions and geography of Connemara and this has thrown up useful facts. Rosie has patiently answered my questions about the islanders - I am becoming fascinated by the life they lived and what led to the demise of their community. I think all this information might lead into a piece of work, but I am not sure yet what form this might take.

# 10 [2 July 2007]

Blog written on 22nd June at 8pm.

I have now spent almost two days on the island and am getting used to the routine that nature has imposed upon everyone. We are bound by the hours of light and the rhythm of the sea. Our choice of clothes is inextricably linked to the elements – there are few places to shelter if you are walking the island. Its good when rain falls since this means we can use the rainwater to boil and wash dishes or even wash ourselves.  Wind direction and tides dictates whether the boat can moor in the harbour or near the beach.  The sea affects our diet – Big Pat has just brought forty mackerel caught in his nets on his way to Inishlacken from the mainland. Surprisingly all networks on our mobile phones seem to have a signal, so until my battery runs down I still feel connected to family and the world outside the island.

There are artists from many disciplines here – a photographer, composer, writer, several painters, two printmakers, sculpture and installation artists and myself, performance and lens based work. Holland, Germany, Australia, England and Ireland are represented and there is much discussion and comparison of the different arts systems in each country.

# 9 [29 June 2007]

The first entry in my next blog reads ‘Thai Curry cooked by Una. Delicious, food tastes better on an island after a day of outdoor activity.’

[Food will be an important part of the project since not only will it sustain us but also the evening meal will be a point of communication for everyone at a particular point in the day. We all fall into the routine of eating at 8pm seated around the table (and around the edges of the room since space is not plentiful in the cottage) when the day’s activities are shared and discussed.]

Next blog entry – written 22nd June , 2.50pm

I have just spent the morning drawing and painting. Every piece I did was unsuccessful, weak and poorly observed. I am pleased that I walked to the far side of the island where my embarrassment is hidden from the other artists. If I think rationally, it is many years since I have painted and drawn in this way, in response to the landscape. My drawings are usually referenced by the action of drawing together with the physical limitations my body imposes. Equally my drawings are usually big (approx 1.5 x 5+metres) and I am now trying to contain marks in an A5 sketchbook and a pad of A3 cartridge paper.

I am cheered up by the weather. It is fine today, a slight coastal breeze and plenty of sun. There are oystercatchers flying overhead - one female setting up a piercing cry since her nest is close to where I am passing by. The sea is as blue as the paint in my palette.

Later in the evening

I have found that I am not the only one to be experiencing dissatisfaction with their work. At the end of the day, others are voicing similar experiences so I have decided that I will read, walk, learn and listen rather than attempting to make work. After all there is no requirement to produce an outcome from this experience.

# 8 [28 June 2007]

It's strange to write this from my house back in England, but this is the first occasion I have had to update the blog since my time on Inishlacken.

Arrived on the island after a calm crossing to the island on Big Pat’s curragh. Three of us made up the advance guard and we set-to, lighting fires in the two buildings we had use of – the schoolhouse and Finklater’s cottage. My first impression of the island was a silver sanded beach with rocky outcrops on either side. The land rises up to the water tower on the horizon and dotted to the south and north are ruins of stone cottages, last inhabited over 45 years ago.

After unloading the boat, the equipment and supplies need to be transported to the cottage where food will be prepared. This necessitates a walk of approx half a mile, not easy with suitcases, 5 litre water carriers and heavy blocks of Irish peat for the fires. We make several journeys and finally, when all is completed, I seek out my accommodation – known as The Shed.

I am sharing with Kate, a composer of Australian nationality but currently living in Holland. The Shed is a bit damp and smells strongly of sheep dung. I put my sleeping bag out and try to make it seem like home.

After four hours or so, the rest of the artists arrive, this time in a larger trawler that anchors in deeper water off the harbour wall. The curragh is used as a floating taxi to bring people to the beach where they wade onto the shore. More provisions (including copious amounts of wine and beer) are carried across boggy soil, rocks, over and around rock pools and sand. Finally we are settled in and have some time to make a first exploration of the island.

# 7 [20 June 2007]

Just tried to upload images but unfortunatly the PC's here need the Canon software, which I didn't bring with me. So written descriptions will have to suffice until I reach home again, sorry!

# 6 [20 June 2007]

Yesterday's drive to Clifden was spectacular; sweeping hills give way to mountains and lakes. The circuitous route followed the Inagh valley along a twisty winding road, often perilously close to the water's edge.

Rosie met me at Clifden. She is a painter and the project's curator. Her home and studio is in the middle of Roundstone, the mainland town, and it is open to the public during the summer months.  Originally from Belfast, she was invited to do a residency in Roundstone seven years ago and stayed. This place has that effect on you, once here the outside world fades into insignificance and you are absorbed into the slow pace of life. The landscape draws you into its world, enveloping you in the cycle of life, into seasons and  the natural world, of people and their place on earth.

I am preparing everything now for the trip tomorrow. Right now the rain is pouring down heavily and from the window, I can see the main town street is a river and people are running to their cars or houses for shelter. I hope it ceases before the boat trip. A trawler will take all the equipment, food and the like followed by a curragh, (a small four person boat). The Atlantic will be a force to be reckoned with if this turbulent weather stays overnight.

 Its likely I wont be able to write again for a few days. But I will be recording and documenting everything for the next time.

# 5 [19 June 2007]

The flight into Shannon was spectacular.  The decent is over water with the green 'fingers' of the two peninsulars either side. There are distant views of hills and mountains and the flight takes you over several islands. An early arrival meant the morning sun was trying to break through cloud as the 'plane lost altitude, white frothy puffs covering the wings punctured by shafts of sunlight.  Nevertheless as we land it starts raining,  no surprise there, and I am worried that I should have packed more waterproof clothing.

One thing always strikes me when I visit this emerald Isle. Its the soft lyrical Irish voices. In the street, in this cafe, wherever, for me there is an immediate  feeling of ease and security that the spoken language promotes. It is both the phraseology, the rythmn and the lilt. My mother was born in Dublin but left Ireland to live in England when she was in her early twenties. Something in these voices trigger memories of childhood - a happy time. 

 I have been thinking that it may be difficult to access the net once I am on Inishlacken and so I have devised a 'blog system' on which you, the reader. will have to trust that I am honouring. I will write my blog each morning (and maybe evening too) into my sketchbook and transcribe this whenever I can access a computer. I am hoping I can visit the mainland at some point during the period on the island so that may give me a chance to upload recent writings. I promise there will be no retrospective editing!

Now off to catch a bus to complete the final leg of the journey. I am going to Clifden but have been told to ask the bus driver to stop at the canal stage where I need to alight and hopefully meet one of the other artists to travel the last stage by car.

# 4 [19 June 2007]

I am amazed to write that I am three quarters through the book already. It’s quite a light read interspersed with illustrations in the form of paintings and drawings and the odd photograph. The author recounts a simple life, yet with the battle for survival against the land and elements. He speaks of the importance of community and of what it is to be part of the landscape. There are also some useful clues for the trip – the rocky terrain means hammering in tent pegs is impossible and guy ropes need to be weighted by rocks. The wind and sea can swell up and produce cold wet weather at a moments notice, trips to the mainland in a rowing boat are therefore not for the faint hearted.

I now find myself packing a suitcase, carefully considering what I should take to Inishlacken and what I should leave behind. I have no idea what I might make whilst I am there; it’s possible I might not make anything at all. This makes the decision of what to take with me quite tricky. Shall I take drawing materials? Or will it be a camera? The 15kg weight allowance prevents too much luggage; in the end the decision is one I cannot make since my possessions are judged by their weight not personal or artistic value.

Pretty much everything is ready now and I am counting down the hours to the flight. It occurs to me that the limited electricity supply on the island may make charging electrical items difficult and so at the last minute I leave my video camera behind. Besides, I want to experience the island in a real way, tangible and raw.

# 3 [18 June 2007]

The book has arrived!

A brown paper wrapped parcel, bigger than I had expected and left outside the door by our local postman. Underneath the first wrapper is another layer of bubble wrap and inside this a further covering of thin white tissue. Three Men on an Island has a navy blue glossy dust jacket with a watercolour illustration on the front, title and author names. Inside, there is a combination of text with pen and ink line drawings, watercolours and oil paintings reproduced onto very heavy off-white paper. As I am flicking through the pages, my eagerness is rewarded with illustrations that are of their time, depicting life on Inishlacken in the 1950’s.

Now I know what my spare time this afternoon is for, reading about the island and trying to understand and connect with experiences of three other creative people.