The Bluebird Call by Mal Pelo at Bòlit, Centre d’Art Contemporani, Girona. In two parts: Bosc Tancat (‘Dense/Enclosed Forest’) in Bòlit_LaRambla, and Taller-Memòria in Bòlit_PouRodó.
“If the main driving force of our dynamic is walking then that of our identity is asking questions.”
In this video-art-light installation at the Bólit, Centre d’Art Contemporani in Girona, tall, straight tree trunks are suspended. Hanging off the ground without roots, they exist in an other-worldly, ghostly light in front of a large screen showing a black and white film. On that screen, people swarm slowly, alone and blank-faced, in step with each other. They walk rhythmically, turning at random intervals, sometimes in concert with others in the group. They walk and walk.
Based on a poem, Separation, by art critic, painter and writer, John Berger, the company state that the work is “about the ambivalence of the individual and the community”. Using the medium of contemporary dance in the broadest understanding of that word, and highly respected within the artistic community (they were directorial collaborators in the extraordinary Falaise by company, Baro d’evel, for example), Mal Pelo are the artistic co-directors, dancers and choreographers Maria Muñoz and Pep Ramis based in Girona.
Their film is set in bleak forests and abandoned industrial and rural wastelands where an assembly of overcoated, beanie-hatted people walk together. With arms swinging naturally or hands in pockets, they carry nothing, though we see them sharing sliced bread, offering it to each other when they make a meal stop. In Separation, Berger writes, “… in our hearts we carry everything …”.
Afterwards, they wind between trees, something we must do to get to one of the two chairs which invite us to sit and watch. There’s a sense these humans — for there is a homogeneity about them — are searching, and yet they seem aimless. Are they a tribe? An extended family? They wander individually, collect for a moment like a flock of ground-based birds arcing en masse, still moving, before separating again.
Stylistically, the collaborative choreography is reminiscent of the early pedestrian experiments of the Judson Dance Theater in the New York lofts of the ‘60s, harking back to the very early work of Simone Forti, Steve Paxton and Yvonne Rainer. This work marked an important departure from the dark auditoria, proscenium-arch theatres, in which dance had almost exclusively existe
d before that, to more quotidian spaces, to the studios and pavements of America. The participants often had no training, they were ‘ordinary’ people who were simply interested and willing to experiment. There was an anarchic spirit about the period.
The filming in Bosc Tancat is often from above, inverting our ground-based habit of looking up to see a skein of geese flying in formation, our normal way of seeing. At other times, the walkers move directly at the camera, passing by without acknowledging it. Walking away from us without pausing, they continue to walk as if forever, pacing without stopping. Are they in harmony? Are they moving away from home or life or land, or towards it?
The haunting, instrumental score in Dense Forest by Fanny Thollot, is interspersed with Berger’s poem, gently spoken. There are occasional silences, too, as if the wind has momentarily ceased though the movement is ever onwards.
Sitting amongst the ‘Dense Forest’ close up to the wall which is filled with this film, I am carried along the paths with the chorale, as if lacking a sense of autonomy. I feel as if I am slowly floating and looking down even when the lens is not, my wings outstretched, my seeing and hearing alert, but when the company eventually come to the end, it is at an edge. They collect at the top of a cliff, a vista ahead of them and there they sit with their backs to me, still, at last, and I am left, melancholy.
I am suddenly taken back to two occasions when I have witnessed single men walking along train tracks with no luggage. Once, in 2018 in north eastern Greece not far from the Turkish border, I was in a car witnessing through the window as we passed him walking into the distance. The other time was just last week in Cataluña when I stood on a bridge and looked over and down watching this tiny figure recede.
The actions, the behaviour of the performers in the carefully chosen landscapes of Bosc Tancat have a timelessness and as I leave I feel a deep connection to them.
Sunday 2nd October 10am – 12noon and 2.30 – 4.30pm
At granton:hub, (Madelvic House), Granton Park Avenue, Edinburgh EH15 1HS. Link to the full weekend programme here.
Showing the mixed media work of selected artists from Granton, Edinburgh and around the UK, this pop-up exhibition addresses themes of death, grief, loss, and re:living.
“KUMMER KASTEN” by Bibo Keeley. Translated from the German, the title roughly translates into ‘agony box’. Bibo writes, “Whenever thoughts of personal loss, traumatic experiences, or even fears for the future of the planet become overwhelming, I put my thoughts to paper and place them in this box. It’s an on-going process, and every now and then I take out all the things I have written and burn them.” Material: ply wood (and other materials). Size: L 40cm W 18cm H 12cm
This varied exhibition includes painting and drawing, artists books, sculpture, film and poetry by:
In the sound poem which is part of my No Birds Land installation, I mourn the death of increasing numbers of British birds and list some of the reasons we are causing their demise. In Clipp’d Wings, I celebrated the Carrier pigeon and pigeon feathers in general, giving them our wish-messages to keep safe during these Covid times. On the day of remembrance for lost species 2021, it therefore made sense for me to spend some time with the spirit of the Passenger pigeon.
Passenger pigeons, Ectopistes migratorius. Photographed at the National Museum of Scotland
Ewan Davidson and I met at the National Museum of Scotland to listen to Luke Jerram‘s Extintion Bell which sounds at random intervals, just once, approximately 170 times a day, indicating the number of species lost worldwide in every 24 hour period.
Luke Jerram’s Extinction Bell at the National Museum of Scotland, Chambers Street, Edinburgh
Occurring in huge numbers in North America in years gone by, Passenger pigeons were extinct in 1914. They had been hunted for meat and as pests, and their habitat was destroyed. Martha was the last of her species, and she died in captivity.
The Passenger part of the pigeon’s name derives from the French passager, to pass through, referring to its massive migrations. It connects to the Peregrine falcon, where ‘peregrine’ is said to come from pèlerin, the French for pilgrim, also on account of its migratory habits. It’s a description I sometimes give myself.
Common pigeons, Edinburgh
[the Peregrine falcon is] the world’s most widespread raptor, and one of the most widely found bird species. In fact, the only land-based bird species found over a larger geographic area is not always naturally occurring, but one widely introduced by humans, the rock pigeon, which in turn now supports many peregrine populations as a prey species
Before that, these birds lived en masse. They fed, swarmed, perched and roosted in large groups, and in their absence, I spent some time in Nicholson Square in Edinburgh. I sat and watched the antics of the Common pigeons / Rock doves and Wood Pigeons (Columbidae family). I observed them stepping fast, balancing on each others backs in what I might term excitement as they ‘fought’ each other for the seeds which the kids were feeding them. They flapped off at the slightest human gesture, though individuals were clasped and carried carefully by one child when he could manage it.
Their movements could mostly be described as ‘nervy’ and ‘agitated’. (It’s interesting how easily the vocabulary of human behaviour comes to mind when I attempt to describe them. It’s a symptom of our tendency to refer to others (other people, and other-than-humans) through our own eyes, using our own terms. In one way its inevitable, after all I only know me, and if I’m being generous, I could say that I am trying to identify with them, but if I caution myself to describe, rather than liken, then I get some distance, can see more clearly beyond my own realm.)
So, I will start again, to help you see what I saw more objectively. They make short, forward and backwards, staccato pecks, with their necks; sometimes they waddle, the fattest part moving side-to-side. They take fleet running steps, gently bump into each other, but don’t seem to mind, and they do sudden take-offs. They flutter a few feathers occasionally, change direction often, and have their heads, their eyes, down most of the time. Every now and then they make a quick exit.
Collective escapings happened several times when I was there: a great, almost but not quite simultaneous, lifting and clattering. (I keep returning to this word to describe the noise of a pigeon quickly leaving a copse or pavement. Though it’s not the metal saucepan kind of clatter, it is a more irregular, continuous noise and rhythm made by wings batting the air down. You can sense the effort and impetus behind the action.)
Then they are whirling above, and I’m less aware of individuals and more of the group shape, shifting and coordinating seamlessly. They sweep around and around, their elipse becoming a sphere, really like bees swarming, the spaces between them widening, closing. Sometimes their mass is raggedy and I fear they will come right apart, but somehow they gather back in before settling on the roofs of the tenements opposite. One, two, three, five, seven, eleven, hundreds. In a second they’re still, perhaps jostling, a little preening between vanes to put everything in order. And they wait until the coast is clear before reversing the whole process to resume their feeding frenzy on the ground.
These pigeons had to be constantly aware of human activity whilst feeding as much as possible
The Sixth Extinction… has accelerated massively since the start of the industrial era, when our ability to wreck havoc on the non-human lifeforms that share our planet has reached awesome proportions.
Roll call for the pigeons and doves which are now extinct
Mauritius Blue pigeon, Alectroenus Nitidissima
Tanna ground-dove 1800
Norfolk Island ground dove 1800
Lord Howe pigeon 1790
Spotted green pigeon 1820s
Norfolk Island pigeon 1839
Mauritius blue pigeon 1840
Réunion pigeon 1850
Rodrigues pigeon 1850
Choiseul pigeon 1904
Thick-billed ground dove 1927
Ryukyu pigeon 1936
Red-moustached fruit-dove 1950
What must it have been like for one, solitary Passenger pigeon to be singled out, captured and die in a small cage alone? The flocks of these wonderful birds were said to measure 4 miles by 1 as they flew, to take two hours to pass overhead there were so many. They were massacred and trapped for commercial reasons and to, apparently, protect crops. Ironically, shortly before there were none of these birds left, the Lacey, then the Weeks-McLean Acts were passed in Iowa to prohibit trade in wildlife. They marked the start of conservation as we know it today. In 1918 the Migratory Bird Treaty Act was passed which protected the eggs, nests and feathers, as well as the birds themselves. (source: Barry Yeoman audubon.org 2014).
As I left Nicholson Square on Lost Species Day, there was a dead pigeon in the gutter
Our English word ‘bell’ comes from the Saxon bellan, meaning to bawl or bellow. Spending quiet time with other members of the Columbidae family resulted in some bawling in grief, a fitting response I think to the whole-scale extermination of Passenger pigeons.
You might also like this article from the Smithsonian Institute
Celebrating the small; grown from a Twitter series (@WalkNoDonkey) early 2020 during lockdown #one.
I was with my mother in Kent and she has a wonderful garden. She has always loved to allow her plants to seed themselves, finding little places they can inhabit. Here is evidence of the resilience of nature, of which we are a part. Much has been written about that attribute during this past 18 months, and if you look with an eagle’s eye, you will find that some of these are once again popping their heads between stones, a year and more on.
Self-seeding violets, Viola odorata in the paving slab cracks 15 March
Resilience is the ability to withstand, to stay healthy in the face of adversity to bounce back. It is borne out of a stable environment and it can be eroded by continued stress. Someone who shies away from noise and horror, senses that their resilience levels are low. Perhaps they never had the stability they needed.
Grief affects our ability to be resilient. Almost all of us find that our sense of resilience is affected by bereavement (whether due to the death of someone, or losses such as moving house, leaving home, divorce and other life changes).
On the 4 April 2020 the BBC reported:
‘A five-year-old child with underlying health conditions has died of coronavirus. The latest figures showed 4,313 people with the virus have died to date in the UK – up by 708 on the previous Friday’s figure. There are now 41,903 confirmed cases, according to the Department of Health.’
We will not forget those people.
Forget-me-not, Myosotis 4 April
Resilience means that we can be strong and are able to stay that way, even in distressing situations, however, we notice that we cannot necessarily do this all the time. This implies that it is a specific trauma which affects our ability to maintain a level of calm at certain times, and with particular people. Moreover, it can be unpredictable. Being less resilient is not a weakness, nor anything to be ashamed of. It is real and can cause a raft of symptoms from the physical through mental and emotional to the spiritual.
Posting a photo of pulmonaria in early April was rather apt, sadly, given the high numbers of people suffering lung issues as a result of Covid-19 in April 2020. This is in memory of those who lost their lives.
Lungwort, Pulmonaria oficinalis for the lungs – see those white spots. 6 April
The same occassion can be one of joy to some and stress to others. If empathy is not felt with the one who is feeling stressed, acceptance must nevertheless be the response, at least if we aren’t to cause a re-traumatisation.
Primroses, Primula polyantha 7 April
Peace and quiet and being amongst plants and wildlife is often a place where people can build up their resilience. In general, these places offer the opportunity, less of a threat, and so give our heart the chance to rest, but not always. For some people it may be the opposite. We can only listen to find out, not make assumptions.
Violets, Viola odorata. My grandmother’s name-sake, the Sweet Violet 8 AprilPurple Grecian windflower, Anemonoides blanda opens her wee face to the sun 10 April
How many of us have a habit of trying to keep things inside, buried?
The beginnings of columbine or Granny’s bonnets, Aquilegia 12 April
Mum and I were two people living together who were not used to doing so. Not since I was 18 and leaving home have I lived so long with her. However much love we had between us, there were a few cracks and out came the niggles, some serious, some not. There were weak places in our relationship where things leaked out. We didn’t argue about leaving the lid off the toothpaste tube, but often it turned out that I was acting on expectations and assumptions. I didn’t realise, but I was falling back into following rules of behaviour I thought I had learned as a child, daughter with mother, thinking they still stood, that I should do x or y in a situation. It turned out that no, that wasn’t expected of me. It transpired that the many years that have passed since then, meant we have changed. Of course we have, obviously, but old habits die hard!
Quite a lot later the aquilegia had reached a great height and, though attracting greenfly, were in bud
We managed to talk about the difficulties afterwards, painful though they were, and we apologised to each other, and managed to keep on going together with love. The pandemic meant that we had to, we couldn’t get away from each other – thanks, pandemic. That’s the way to build resilience in a relationship and every now and then it was tough going, however I think we learned more about each other in the process, and overall, I look back on that 5-month period as a wonderful time, a way of getting to know each other as adults in a different way. We had fun together.
By May 21 the aquilegia were out
This flower is thought to be named because part of the flower resembles the talons of an eagle (aquila). Eagles are far-sighted and powerful and they have talons with which to grip fiercely. Tenacity is something which has also been talked about with regard to the pandemic. The tenacity to keep going when so much of life’s normality is threatened, tenacity to see what is important – maintaining contact (even electronically or from the garden gate), and random acts of kindness (like getting in the shopping for someone, or sending a thoughtful note).
Lily of the valley, Convallaria majalis making their way into the world. You can clearly see that they are of the asparagus family. 13 April
When I look at these photos, I think of life between tower blocks and plants growing between paving stones in cities and towns, whether welcome or not, sometimes weed-killed, more recently near my home, allowed to flourish. Thorny brambles sinew between railings onto the pavement, and tree roots break through concrete. In Chinese Medicine, it’s the upthrust of Wood energy.
And here they are sporting their scented white bells
Then I imagine my nerves threading between vertebrae in my spine, linking the central nervous system to the periphery. I think of broccoli between the teeth – isn’t that so annoying! Of hernias, pockets of our internal organs escaping through openings, like the stomach poking through the oesophageal sphincter, for example, a hiatus hernia.
Stinging nettles Urtica dioeca. The first thing I drink in the morning, for my joints 15 AprilLemon balm, Melissa officinalis for soothing stress and improving the mood 16 April
In April 2020, so many people were struggling (and still are) with isolation and the various difficulties brought on by restrictions in movement (then, it was recommended that we stay within a 2 mile radius in order to stop the virus spreading). I used lemon balm because it is refreshing and restorative as a herbal tea, and sometimes I just rubbed the leaves gently between my fingers and had a good sniff!
Periwinkle, Vinca minor stretching her neck. Soon to be lavender blue. 17 AprilSt John’s Wort, Hypericum androsaemum. Tutsa, known as Balm of the Warrior’s Wands. 18 April
It was at this time that we were standing outside our houses once a week clapping the stalwart NHS ‘warriors’ who now , in 2021, need support more than ever after such a long slog without a break and the emotional strain. Many are exhausted and I know that I, and my fellow Shiatsu practitioners, are hoping that we can support them in hour-long, gentle touch sessions for relaxation, stress and rejuvenation.
Shining Cranesbill, Geranium lucidum 20 April. So delicatePurple deadnettle, Lamium purpurium, also known as purple archangel as it shows itself around the Feast of the Apparition on May 8
According to legend, the Feast of the Appearing of the Archangel Michael (a Christian event) took place on Mount Gargano, Apulia, about the year 492, and immediately the mountain became the site of pilgrimage.
Mexican fleabane, Erigeron karvinskianus, from Greek meaning early (eri) and old man (geron) because of the white beard-like rays around the yellow floral disc. 1 May Roman chamomile, Chamaemelum nobile, fine and feathery. Formerly Anthemis nobilius with essential oil of chamazulene for calming, teething babies and itchy skin. 14 MayStrawberry plant, Fragaria hybrid ‘pekan’ about to fruit despite being in rather overcrowded cracks. It’s a companion plant to borage – they benefit each other. 28 MayBorage, starflower, bugloss, Borago officinalis. Great for nappy rash in cream form
Float some blue borage flowers in your Pims or lemonade and see what happens! *
Two holyhocks, Alcea rosea, flowering despite their diminutive size. 1 JulyMichaelmas Daisies, Aster, heralding the approach of Autumn. 25 August and back in Edinburgh
Though actually celebrated on 29 September, this is another flower named after St Michael and one of his festivals – Michaelmas, again part of the Christian calendar. It also includes the angels Gabriel, Raphael and sometimes Uriel. Close to the equinox (when the sun is directly above the equator 23 September and 20 March), in Medieval times, it was the harvest, the end of the fishing season, and the start of the hunting one, time to settle bills and count the livestock for planning the winter. stores
In August, in the UK, we had our first respite from the Covid limitations on movement and so I travelled back home to Edinburgh. The open nature of these blooms captures the feelings we had when it was warm enough to socialise outdoors and everything seemed more positive again.
Creeping wood sorrel, Oxalis corniculata
In the past, I tried to hide my concerns and put on the smiling face that I thought others deserved, that I thought I should if I was going to be a good mum and work colleague. It didn’t work for long. If I have something important to say, worries that need to be expressed, they just come out in other ways. Otherwise I wander towards a fault line in my mental health, start to ‘crack up’.
Knapweed, Cyanus triumfetti
Anyway, it didn’t take long to recognise that the people around me knew me well enough to sense when I was uptight and holding onto something. I am not sure that any amount of anger or resentment can really be hidden if we are in close proximity to people we love or work with. It is always about finding ways to put my feelings into words, let them out in a constructive way, or accepting when I flare with anger, apologise, and finding support from a friend or counsellor to try and work out why I did that.
Knapweed in full bloomRock fumewort, yellow corydalis, Pseudofumaria luteaPiss-a-beds, dandelion, Taraxacum officianale, most common, companion to nettle in my morning tea
Dandelion – bees love it (see No Mow May) – and it ‘helps one see further without a pair of spectacles’,according to Culpeper’s Colour Herbal. I take it for my liver.
Probably woodbine, do you think? A vine like Virginia Creeper and HoneysuckleTwist of ivy through the smallest of gaps
These plants all have invisible roots, they thrive in the bleakest of situations, in mere grains of soil or even the substance of the stone wall itself. They are evidence of resilience and tenacity, and photographing and thinking about them gives me strength and supports me in understanding myself better.
Links
Chitra Ramaswamy is @chitgrrl on twitter and she wrote about nature being allowed to bloom in the corners of urban Leith, Edinburgh at a similar time.
The Royal Horticultural Society is a great resource for plants. They are @THE_RHS
Gardenista are worth following on twitter @gardenista for their sometime focus on plants like
This is a film of care, a cleansing ritual of body and place.
Ritual (a woman’s work?) a short film of care
Using the elements of fire, water and earth, She scours, washes and smudges with sage, preparing the ground and clearing the air above it. She buries the white seed, and lays the path for a walk through the spiral of life. The walk leads to the centre of things and She goes barefoot as pilgrims do.
This film is inspired by the part of every day life in a convent, anchorage or hermitage when prayer, prostration and chanting is paused for cleaning, sweeping and planting. This backyard ritual seeks to bring the mundane and the sacred together. Meditation in a beautiful temple, silent and still, is a long way from the basic movements of everyday life, particularly for many women. To carry out these activities with mindfulness is a challenge, though there can be a beauty in them, and they are an essential part of walking the spiral of life.
Walking without a donkey 