Wandering along by the river one morning, my eye was caught by the layering of dark rocks along the river’s edge, covered with bands of soft green weed. There was a sharp angular fragment lying in the mud – tipped with a luxuriant growth of green and looking like a stone-age tool, I thought.
In this small cove I am secluded from the noise of modern life –for a short time, at least. I crouch down, dropping into the rhythm of earth, water, stone, weed and air.
I was tempted to try eating the green seaweed – but refrained because I don’t trust the purity of the water round here.
Next day was cool and windy, and I made another little circle. But it was cold, and I felt unwell, so I didn’t stay long. Oh and I found my favourite old hat that I lost yesterday. Someone had thoughtfully hung it from a bush by the side of the path.
For me, this sort of work is a simple interaction with nature, capturing a fleeting moment, a subtle experience of being alive. Of course one brings one’s knowledge and skills as an artist to bear, but it is not primarily about seeking decorative effects with natural materials. When the work is done, I dismantle it, leaving nothing behind.