Kristina Rothstein and Tamsin Grainger took a third walk, together yet apart in October 2025.
We walked at the same time as each other, Kristina in Canada and Tamsin in Scotland, agreeing that the location would be woods, and the subject, mapping. Stopping at 20, 40 and 60 minutes, we drew and/or recorded verbal maps on site and then followed up with artwork that included collage and video.
The top two images above were taken by Kristina Rothstein in Canada and the two below by me, on our Woods Walk.
The top two images above were taken by me, and the two below by Kristina Rothstein in Canada, on our Woods Walk.
The three illustrations above show Kristina’s maps of words, memories and dogs respectively.
This video shows images (photographic and hand-drawn in pencil), from Tamsin’s walk in Scotland, together with recorded audio maps of the natural species found in the woods, and the rubbish that threatens to engulf them. It also includes two collages made using the InCollage app and paper/glue/scissors.
This is a new collaboration between Kristina Rothstein and Tamsin Grainger where we walk together, apart. Kristina is in Vancouver, Canada, and I am in Edinburgh, Scotland.
Last week, we walked at the same time as each other, despite the time difference of 8 hours and having only spoken together once online. We didn’t exchange maps or describe where we were going, but agreed that we would walk on edgeland (whatever that meant to us), and stop to communicate in some way at 30, 60 and 90 minutes during our walks. We both viewed and listened to each other’s work before we began. Our interest was in the process, experience and outcome of such an experiment, whether we would find that there were any cross-overs or influences, despite the geographical distance.
Kristina walks in Vancouver
Kristina writes: I began my walk at a parking area (///swimmer.behaving.sailor) where the middle fork of the Fraser River meets the Straight of Georgia (Pacific Ocean). I followed a multi-use trail along the dike. When possible, I took unofficial trails that skirted closer to the intertidal flats area, passing through some thickets to where the ground becomes watery. My first intervention happened there. Leaving the path felt right. My second intervention was on the gravel dike path, where a long row of tall trees lines a golf course. My third intervention occurred where a residential road dead-ends at the trail, with a rural park on the other side.
Tamsin walks in Edinburgh
Tamsin writes: I began my walk at the intersection between land and the Firth of Forth (///kinks.coats.salsa), an estuary of the North Sea at the edge of the city of Edinburgh. I followed the Eastern Breakwater, the right arm of Granton Harbour. This long, stone wall (would you call it a dike?) is raised above the sea and divides the calmer waters where the yachts are moored, from Wardie Bay which is used for wild swimming. The Breakwater travels directly out to sea and then bends left, eventually coming to an end where the ocean surrounded me on three sides. A graffiti-covered structure stands sentinel. ‘Silence’ I read to myself. I looked down to the skirt of stones which appear at low tide around the base of the wall and saw a fisherman casting his rod. If he was aware of me speaking into my microphone to Kristina, he didn’t show it.
TG EdinburghKR Vancouver
KR: I looked at the land differently, with a focus on transmitting to Tamsin, my walking partner. Carrying her with me psychically changed my relationship to the landscape and my experience of the place. It did feel like I had a passenger. I imagined seeing things through her eyes and also tried to imagine her own edgeland superimposed alongside mine and what she might be seeing and thinking. This one to one connection felt very different from walking remotely with a group. I thought about allowing myself to flow and seep into my walking partner and I opened myself to receive signals.
TG: I was pleased to walk with Kristina as my companion. I had the phone recorder on most of the time so I could share the sounds of the landscape with her. I chatted away as if she was there beside me. Not knowing what she was seeing and hearing, I trusted that our connection would bring about some synchronicity. I actively merged myself with my imagination of her, attempting to walk in time with her footsteps, and see my views through her eyes.
KR: This is a trail I walk or cycle on infrequently. There were more borders and edges than I remembered: the line of a golf course and houses, a drainage ditch, the dike, a border of brambles and rosehips, the tidal marsh, the sea.
Breakwater, Tamsin Grainger, Edinburgh, Scotland
TG: I’m familiar with this walk, can actually see through the window if I stand on the edge of my bed. The Breakwater cuts a clean line into the sea, dissecting the outer limit of the city and points a crooked finger towards the far shore of Fife. Before the harbour was completed, in 1863, the shore showed on the maps as a smooth curve. Now, I like to think that we reach out and gather people into our arms (as the nation of Scotland welcomes refugees and people seeking asylum), extending our limits and, hopefully, opening our minds beyond borders.
KR: It was late morning for me, on a clear sunny day. I passed a lot of walkers and cyclists, saw and heard many birds including a flock of herons and a lot of airplanes and seaplanes. I liked using this vague prompt to begin. It would be interesting to see what happened if a more detailed idea of the walk was given ahead of time.
TG: It was a very fine evening – unseasonably warm, though breezy as usual – and a popular place to be. Planes were banking overhead, then soaring towards the airport. I counted at least eight different languages being spoken, evidence of this multi-cultural area. I met a local friend walking with a visitor, who was delighted when I said I was walking, remotely, with someone in Vancouver, as she’d been there.
KR VancouverTG Edinburgh
KR: “Edgeland” is not that descriptive so I don’t know whether the similarity and overlap in our landscapes was a connection or based on me knowing something about Tamsin’s work. After sharing some of our experiences I was taken by the ways in which large birds played a role. It was also exciting that we were moved to make percussive use of the surroundings, something I have not done before. Wind was a strong presence, somewhat common by water, but not necessarily. We were also both drawn to vertical structures, perhaps because they stand out on edges.
TG: What sounds and words should I include in the final recording? I wasn’t using quality recording technology (or even a sock), so the wind often drowned out my voice. There were the constant tunes coming from the bagpipers rehearsing on the Middle Breakwater. And I had also picked up a stick, using it to play persussive rhythms on various surfaces in time with the regular pace of my footsteps. Listening to my commentary afterwards, I was reminded of the line from the Twelve Days of Christmas, “Eleven Pipers Piping” and following that thought thread, I wrote the text, juxtaposing it with the found sounds of the environment. It was only later that I discovered Kristina had also picked up a stick and played it. Then I wished I had included it in the final cut!
KR VancouverTG Edinburgh
Listen to the Sounds we made in response to our walks together, apart
We both hope to repeat this Walking in Pairs, exploring different landscapes and experimenting with various briefs and prompts to see what happens when we walk together, apart.
Here is the film on Vimeo. Poppies have long been seen as a symbol of sleep, peace and death, not, for me, a sign of patriotism, nor any sort of justification for war
I chose to walk on the familiar site of Granton Castle in Edinburgh, now naturalised wasteland to the sea-side of the Granton Gasholder, which you can see glimpses of in the film. I’d been researching the Rough Wooing, an attack on Scotland by Henry VIII (1543-1551). It was in retaliation for Mary Queen of Scots refusing to marry Edward and allying herself, instead, with France. The first tranche ruined this Medieval castle which stood overlooking the Firth of Forth, where the marauders landed.
The historian William Ferguson contrasted “the jocular nickname of the ‘Rough Wooing’ with the savagery and devastation of the war, “the English policy was simply to pulverise Scotland, to beat her either into acquiescence or out of existence,…”” and that reminded me of wars happening now in Palestine and the Ukraine. Luckily, I am geographically far away from them, but nevertheless I see and read about what is happening, and my heart goes out to the people for their enormous loss. I ask, What can I do?
So, I walked this familiar route with war in mind, inviting the landscape to reveal ways in which I might be able to get insight, to deepen my understanding of the outcome of such actions, and develop compassion for what it might be like to be in the middle of it.
You will see symbols of remembrance, Rowan berries like drops of blood, damaged household items strewn everywhere, indications of brutality, seemingly apt graffiti, what might be a grave and a tombstone, and stumps – trees and metal cut down in their prime. The soundtrack features the cries of a pair of unseen sparrowhawks, quaking poplars, the threatening rumble of a surveillance helicopter, the comments of magpies, and empty silences. (Please note that you may need to turn up the sound on your device.) There are trees which have been wounded including one that was burned, and I spent some time beside it drawing its poor body with some of its own charcoal.
Found saw, Granton, Edinburgh
Finally, I walked into a quiet clearing where butterflies, bees and other insects were alive. There is, as always with living entities, the instinct to continue, to keep on climbing over obstacles, even if you’re a tiny ladybird in a vast place. The natural landscape does renew itself, eventually, and although this is hard won and in no way negates the horror of human conflict, it was a hopeful reminder that these wars will end. Some people, at least, will learn from them, will understand that though they have been wronged, such aggression does not justify attrocity, nor forge positive relationships for the future or bring about the peace for which we all yearn.
For the record: I, in no way condone the attack on Be’eri, the Israeli kibbutz and the killing and capturing of civilians there by Hammas.
1 November 2024 a Walking the Land artist collective monthly event. This Friday’s brief was by Janette Kerr and me, Tamsin Grainger and part of the Lines of Enquiry, a collective walking art project which will culminate in a group exhibition in 2025.
Look for somewhere to sit, stand or crouch on your own. Pause. Close your eyes and concentrate on listening.
Try to separate out all the sounds you can hear.
Using a piece of paper and pencil, crayon or pen, and with your eyes still closed, make marks on your paper that you think might represent the sounds you are hearing (don’t try to make a picture of, or draw, the thing making the noise!)
Spend as long as you like doing this. You might stop and do it several times during the walk.
If you are walking with others, you might try this together on one piece of paper.
Here are the What3Words locations for the 6 stops we made along part of the Edinburgh Cycle Path network, connecting in spirit with others who were walking along the Honeybourne Line (Gloucestershire) and elsewhere.
///Causes.Host.Home
///Perky.Fetch.Useful
///Notice.Case.Bugs
///Linked.Tides.Eager
///Bounty.Belong.Only
///Maker.Exit.Corn
///Friday.Notice.Retail
Damp earth causes stains Tree hosts magpies and sparrows Home is far away.
Wet bottoms as we drew the sounds around us with our eyes closed Sometimes using two hands as the sound came from so many places. Photo Janette Kerr
Perky dog's tail wags 'Fetch' calls his human with joy Useful happinness.
Part of the No Birds Land sound walk installationUnder the Bridge. Edinburgh cycle paths. Photo Janette Kerr
Notice how cold stone Is, in case of chills and piles Bugs me every time.
I am an Edinburgh-based artist who exhibited in the Walking the Land collective Lines of Enquiry exhibition at the Hardwick Gallery University of Gloucestershire in Cheltenham. The gallery is situated near the Honeybourne Line, a greenway which used to be a railway. After the opening on 7 March, I made an artwalk from the Welsh/English border to the Symposium which was also at Hardwick and held by Walking the Land.
The Honeybourne Line in Cheltenham and the Cycle Route Network in my home city of Edinburgh date from the Industrial Revolution, whereas industrious ants have been around since the Jurassic era. For much longer than we have been commuting along these paths, they have been making their way back and forth to work from ant hill or nest, gathering food, clearing up after us, and making critical relationships with other species (famously stroking aphids so they secrete honeydew).
I have walked, watched, sketched and embroidered ants in order to appreciate and understand more about them and their busy lives. So often unseen, they are a vital part of our ecosystem and I celebrate them.
The Honeydew Line (stitching) by Tamsin Grainger at the Hardwick Gallery, Cheltenham. Ants walk each day to forage, and like commuters along the Honeybourne Line (Cheltenham), they pass in both directions often carrying heavy loads
I walked from Chepstow to Cheltenham through the Forest of Dean, the Severn Plain and the Cotswolds, looking out for the unseen small ones (eg ants who are part of our ecosystem and clear up our rubbish). For 10 days, I noticed, acknowledged, and paid attention to the vital role these not-insignificant members of our community play.
The mushroom says, fruitfulness comes from what is unseen or overlooked — hidden networks, decomposition.
Elizabeth Wainwright, Redlands
Orange crust fungusFrozen crocuses
At the end of each day, I visited the home of someone who had taken me up on my offer of a Shiatsu-hospitality exchange. Highlighting the walk in advance on social media, I invited others to accompany me and/or to meet in the evenings / overnight. I was delighted to make the acquaintance of many people I’d never previously met, and others whom I had known before but had not seen for a few or even for 40 years.
With Vicky at the end of day 1 @wyevalleyshiatsu
During the walking process, I witnessed the terrible devastation to our soil that we have caused through intensive forestry, extraction, and injurious industrial farming methods. The effects of the recent, more extreme, wind, storms and flooding, often attributed to climate change, were experienced every day.They prompted me to recognise our human failing to protect the insects, birds, plants and animals that we have a duty of care towards, and rely on.
Eroded paths – almost impassable with human feet
Over the next months, I’ll be reflecting on the injury to my leg from slipping on the mud while climbing May Hill at the end of a 10-hour-day’s trek carrying a heavy pack. The pain I walked with became an embodied manifestation of the state of the crisis we are in. There were times on the tops of hills when trudging and squelching through mud, that I wondered if I could continue to go on. I had to sit and rest, mindfully. I had to accept the situation, go right into the middle of the extreme discomfort in order to transform the pain that each step caused.
So many broken or fallen trees
I will be addressing the idea that this was more than a walk or a wander, perhaps a pilgrimage, and that the act of hope was inherent in the constant need to physically move forwards. I accepted help and occasionally I sewed a small panel instead of touching, embroidered something I had come across during that day’s walk – Melusine (found on the arch of Notgrove Manor) and a periwinkle flower (from the hedgerows). Though I had scheduled one rest day, I had to take a second, a break from the walking. Lucky me that I could do that, with the help of new and old friends.
Someone left a dog poo bag on the wall
This walk has been now been completed. Thanks to all those who walked with me, or who bartered hospitality for Shiatsu. What is Shiatsu?
Tamsin giving Shiatsu, Paris
My route: Chepstow, to Parkend, to May Hill, to Gloucester, and to Crickley. Salperton to Stow-on-the-Wold, to Winchcombe, to Tewkesbury, all along the Gloucestershire Way. Then, to Gloucester on a British Pilgrimage Trust route, and finally to the Walking the Land Symposium in Cheltenham along a Slow Ways route. Total: approximately 124 miles (around 200 kms).
Starting in Chepstow at dawn
The Walking the Land ‘Lines of Enquiry’ exhibition ran between 3rd and 27th March, and the Symposium was on 21 March 2025.
Arriving at the Hardwick Gallery, Cheltenham, for the Symposium on 21st March 2025 at the end of the walk
Walking without a donkey 