Found Poetry & Text Art Workshops

It’s been a great summer, and I’ve loved developing my Found Poetry & Text Art workshops. Working with lovely groups in Shrewsbury and Hay-on-Wye has been an absolute joy, and I’ll be repeating these classes on a regular basis.

In the class we get creative with words, making poems, stories and our own artwork out of book pages and magazines. Using drawing and collage, I demonstrate simple techniques to help you read between the lines and work with text on a new level. Here are some photos from previous sessions:

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The next workshop is on Friday 9th September in Shrewsbury, full details and booking information is on eventbrite. I hope to see you there or at a future workshop! Keep an eye on the events page for new dates.

What previous students have said:

“ I found pleasure in bringing pictures to old forgotten words “

“ Combining the words with images was very relaxing, the workshop opened my mind to new ideas and flow”

“Fun and fascinating! Emily is a very enabling tutor”

“Pleasantly destructive! Cutting up old books is rather thrilling”

“Time just flew, I really enjoyed Emily’s delivery and her fabulous ideas for starting points”

“I really enjoyed that, Im going to take my work home and frame it!” 

“Lots of fun and a kind of magic, I could do this all day!” 

Book Cover Beauty

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Over the last four months, I’ve been working away on three commissions for poetry book covers.

Thirza Clout is the first poet in the UK to be published by Mark Time Books (founded in Australia by Ross Donolon). Her pamphlet The Bone Seeker has been described as “honest, tender, fierce and with a gallows humour, journeying through a child’s life in a family so nuclear it breaks your heart”. To reflect the themes of Thirza’s poetry, I wanted to use something from her childhood in the artwork. After experimenting with photographs, precious books, hand-me-down textiles and a much loved teddy bear, we settled on a school photograph collaged onto a background texture.

Here’s some of the lovely feedback I had from Thirza and Ross:

“I knew Emily would come up with something creative for the cover of my first chap book because I’d commissioned her after admiring her work – the fact she was utterly professional, stuck to deadlines and was a pleasure to work with were bonuses. I shall certainly be going back to her!”
– Thirza Clout

“As founder of Mark Time Books, I was delighted with the cover artwork provided by Emily for the 2016 book by Thirza Clout, The Bone Seeker. This is the first Mark Time U.K. book and it was especially important to have a cover that both complimented the fine poetry and acted as a flagship for Mark Time. The title and poet’ name strike the reader at first glance and can be clearly read by a prospective buyer. The classic school photograph is presented in a slightly ragged way over the uneven white brush strokes. The effect is to suggest that there is something not quite o.k. and works well with the disturbing title. Mark Time Books would be more than happy to use the work of this talented artist again.”
– Ross Donlan

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The next cover to be brought into the world was local author Paul Francis‘ self-published collection Five String Banjo. The ‘five strings’ to Paul’s bow are sonnets, real lives, politics, performance and miscellany. Poet liz Lefroy says “In 5-string Banjo, Paul Francis shows himself to be a master of rhythm, rhyme and engrossing narratives. Pick up this book, hold it to your ear, and listen to it beat.” 

For Paul’s cover artwork, I worked with an abstraction of the banjo shape. As a textiles lover I felt it important to use real strings, and my inner texture junkie had fun working subtle fragments of newspapers into the background to reflect Paul’s political leanings!

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Lastly, my artwork for this year’s Wenlock Poetry Festival (called Wenlock Time) has been featured on the 2016 anthology cover (published by Fair Acre Press). The image was inspired by Much Wenlock’s town clock, and thinking about how the festival curates such fantastic contemporary poetry in a historic setting. The anthology is now available from Wenlock Books, and will also be available at the festival bookstand on the 23 and 24 April. If you haven’t booked tickets yet, what on earth are you waiting for?

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From May 2016 I’ll be taking on more commissions for book covers, so do get in touch if you’d like to discuss a project. I offer a sliding scale of pricing for self-published authors, small presses and larger publishers.

 

New for 2016: The Red Shoes

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Cover concept image by Sam Brett-Atkin

Stepping into the new year, I am pleased to announce a new project for 2016: my poetic retelling of Hans Christian Andersen’s fairytale The Red Shoes. Using a combination of combination of verse and poetic prose, I have written my own interpretation of this classic story.

There have been many adaptations and interpretations of The Red Shoes; in books and on the screen. As a motif, red shoes have long been popular in well-known stories and some lesser-known folk tales. Inspired by themes such as direction, dancing, nature, belonging and creativity, I wanted to write a version about making soulful and authentic choices within the dance of life. I also just really love red shoes 🙂 

When I met artist and illustrator Sam Brett-Atkin, I immediately loved his artwork and thought he might be the right person to illustrate The Red Shoes. Luckily Sam was just as keen! Through our collaboration the story has developed into a richer narrative, and Sam has begun creating beautiful, atmospheric images in charcoal and ink. 

We have decided to self-publish the book in 2016. Through a crowd-funding campaign we hope to finance the first print run, and allow you to pre-order your copy! We will be announcing the details later this year, please get in touch if you’d like to be on the project mailing list.

Wenlock Time

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Wenlock Time: a new mixed media piece commissioned for Wenlock Poetry Festival 2016. 

Back in September I created a piece of artwork for Wenlock Poetry Festival 2016, which is now making it’s way into various bits of promotional material. The piece is called Wenlock Time, and is a mix of collage, paint and digital layers. I based the image around a photo I took of Much Wenlock’s clocktower, and worked in a map of the town.

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The piece used in promotional material. 

Next year’s Wenlock Poetry Festival (22nd-24th April 2016) has a ‘time’ theme, as in April we celebrate 400 years of Shakespeare. As always, the festival will be bringing the best of contemporary poetry to Shropshire, so I wanted to create an image that is fresh and vibrant as well as referencing the roots of poetry.

HOME & BELONGING: AN ANTHOLOGY

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I’m delighted to have two poems included in this charity anthology, which is produced by Friends of Conakry Refuge School. In 2005 the charity began to support a school for refugees in Conakry, Guinea, and advocate education as a route to a positive future for vulnerable children.

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The other contributing poets are Elizabeth Parkes, Deborah Alma, Jean Atkin, Paul Francis, Myra Connell, Liz Lefroy, Kathy Watson, Steve Harrison, Marilyn Miller, Dave Bingham and Ruth Cameron. It’s a great read, and only £5 from the FCRS shop. There are many other treasures in stock, including some beautiful Tuareg jewellery, such as this pendant featuring a Tuareg symbol for the nomadic tent.

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AUTUMN ARTWORK SALE

It’s out with the old and in with the new here. I am looking for lovely new homes for these pieces of artwork, to make room in my cupboards (and head) to make more! If you’d like to purchase one of these for a Christmas present, or just to treat yourself, please get in touch.

THROUGH THE NIGHT (2015) / acrylic & assemblage on wood / handmade frame / 16cm square
£40 plus postage

Through the Night Through the Night (detail)

THROUGH THE DAWN (2015) / acrylic & assemblage on wood / handmade frame / 16cm square
£40 plus postage

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SOUL ADRIFT (2013) / acrylic & assemblage on wood / handmade frame / 21cm x 27cm
£65 plus postage

Soul Adrift Soul Adrift

RED SHOES (2014) / paper, stitch & acrylic / handmade frame / 25cm x 29cm (frame 6cm deep)
£80 plus postage

Red Shoes (detail) Red Shoes (detail)

BLOOM (2014) / textiles hanging / bamboo rod / 25cm x 29cm
£45 plus postage

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THIRTY (2014) / textiles hanging / bamboo rod / 25cm x 29cm
£45 plus postage

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ALCHEMY

Back in early August I travelled up to North West Scotland for a week’s course at Bridge House Art. The course was called Alchemy, and focused on mark making and altering surfaces. Taking inspiration from the dramatic (and sometimes stormy) surroundings, we delighted in a whole week’s experimentation using light and heavy materials.

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We also incorporated found objects foraged from the shore into our experiments….

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A larger piece was created, but the week for me was about experimenting and new techniques…only time will tell how they will filter through into things and words made closer to home. Saying a fond farewell to Ullapool, I returned to my nest with fresh memories of the mountains and inspiration from the sea.

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Festival on the Edge

In mid-July I was invited to teach a bookmaking workshop at Festival on the Edge, a lovely folk and storytelling festival in Much Wenlock, Shropshire. The festival site is at the beginning of Wenlock Edge; a wooded limestone escarpment steeped in myths and stories, home to views like this:

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When not making things in the children’s or craft tents, I enjoyed music by artists O’Hooley & Tidow and Jonathan Day.  Tent-side breakfasts, locally roasted coffee and local cider were shared with my splendid companions, and a very pleasant eve was spent under a hazy Shropshire sunset.

As well as teaching bookmaking, I took along the Wild Wenlock teepees for some Sunday crafting, poetry and stories. Here are some photos from the weekend:

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Threads of Hope

Tomorrow night I am reading at a fundraising evening in Shrewsbury for Nepal’s earthquake survivors. There will be a reading of Nepali poetry by Bethany Rivers and a talk on Nepal by Barry Wenlock followed by Guest Poets Liz Lefroy and Jean Atkin, then we open-mic types will read. Bethany and I are also bringing our Threads of Hope project, to collect healing words for Nepal which we will weave into poems. These will then be sent to Nepal along with any funds raised.

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Walk on the wild side

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It’s been almost a whole month since Wenlock Poetry Festival, and shamefully I’ve only just got round to processing my photos from Wild Wenlock. For me the weekend was a wildish crafty whirlwind, with lots of visitors to my little travelling village. The splendid chaps at the builders merchants made our month by turfing the entire Corn Exchange in real grass, which was the icing on the cake for Wild Wenlock. Here are photos from our weekend of play and poetry:

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By the way, Wild Wenlock is available for summer events and children’s parties 🙂

Wild Wenlock

11115779_903875006321848_6194627921622456305_n Preparations for Wenlock Poetry Festival are almost complete. I am hosting a children’s installation called Wild Wenlock 11am-3pm on both days, under Much Wenlock’s Corn Exchange. It consists of these miniature teepees I’ve been making for the last two months: 11133774_10152746703457797_1900239962458878851_n These aren’t just for kids, sitting inside one (and a grown adult can JUST fit inside) can transport you back to the childlike excitement of dens and secret hideaways. 22815_10152746703627797_5544587073114807093_n 11127232_10152746703757797_7984605922204138106_n They are made from pre-loved curtains and bedding, dyed in tea and bound with torn fabric. Feathers from the garden add some dramatic effect. In two of the teepees will be audio of local authors reading poetry and stories, including material from Andrew Fusek Peters, Jean Atkin, Carol Caffrey Witherow, Lucy Carmel, Steve Harrison, David Calcutt, Kate Innes, Ruth Thorp, Sarah Thorp and myself. The Thorps aren’t strictly local, but as their publisher Raw Mixture will be one of the stalls at Wild Wenlock they are locals for the weekend 🙂 In this mix of indigenous words and fabrics will be making and writing activities; from decorating bugs and beasties, to postcards from Wild Wenlock, to planting poems. IMG_0957   X0039E0Y

I’ve also created signage for the festival, out of whatever I could get my hands on; cupboard doors and bits of old skirting board have finally found their true purpose. IMG_0954

My painting assistant enjoyed yesterday’s work in the sun as much as I did…IMG_0947

My (human) assistants and I hope to see you there next weekend. Just so you know, these are the rules of Wild Wenlock: IMG_0959

Walking in New Directions

After a busy summer assisting on a 10 week summer school at Bridge House Art, I have some long, precious days to retreat and focus on artwork. This space between is rich with gorgeous spaciousness and quiet. Every day I go down to the river and draw, write or simply sit.

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It’s amazing how a step back from one’s own practice can help you change direction. I feel myself drawn back to image-making, drawing, and the process of painting. I’ve been incorporating my love of texture and surface into images that use collage, paint and writing. My textile-y inclinations step ever so slightly into the background, but look out for more Weaving Poetry creations later in the year. Here is a little glimpse of new things:

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I’ve also been having fun with paint and footprints. At the weekend a painting that isn’t working was joyfully walked over! Where it wants me to go next I’m not sure, but time will reveal all.

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In just a few days my nomadic feet will be wandering back down South for the winter. Slowly, gratefully, I say a fond farewell to Scotland, and this very special community for the time being…although I am already being beckoned back next year 🙂

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This Netted House

Whilst travelling on the Isle of Lewis last year, I came across the most curious thing; a derelict house entirely covered in fishing nets. I showed the film of this spooky place to poet Jean Atkin, who wrote a most marvellous poem called This Netted House. We made this short film, which The Island Review have just published.

NaPoWriMo day 14

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This poem a day lark is not for me. My non-wordy side is resisting the daily thing and I am mostly in a dyslexic sulk. My visual work is suffering as a result! I am however working on some kind of poetry every day, even if not writing a whole poem. It is pleasing that I now have enough to read at my first open mic next month, so I shall aim for that and happily admit NaPoWriMo failure and scurry off back to my little studio of lovely tactile colourful things. I will however carry on with it in my own way, and post something poetic, even if it’s not a poem.

I did manage a wee verse tonight about the blood moon, which I believe we won’t see in it’s full glory in the UK…but we can imagine.

Blood Moon

The blood moon blossoms
like a crimson stain in the sky,
seeping through shadowed
clouds staining the cloak of night.

NaPoWriMo Day #9

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Oh dear, I am very behind on this poem a day thing. Feeling especially dyslexic this last few days and rather non-wordy. A poetic image will have to suffice.

NaPoWriMo #6

A sociable weekend means I am posting these a little late and skipping a day. Long walks with old friends and evenings of telling stories distracted me from writing a poem a day. Quite rightly so. This one is a bit of a cheat, but a wee poem on a friend’s fridge was all I could manage after a couple of late nights…

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NaPoWriMo #5: They Often Walked This Path

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Feel memory words made solid.

Touch carved wood edge speaks 

warm texture; object bearing

the weight of her and his stories.

Muddy field stretches out their

etched past. Footsteps immortal;

crafted in grain, gone to earth.

NaPoWriMo #3: Clootie Well

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Today I took the NaPoWriMo prompt of writing a wee charm – a simple rhyming poem, in the style of a recipe-slash-nursery rhyme. I don’t usually do rhymes but enjoyed this one; the subject and rhyming create a folky-story type vibe. This poem is about the clootie wells found in Cornwell and some other parts of the country. Clootie wells (also Cloutie or Cloughtie wells) are places of pilgrimage in Celtic areas. They are wells or springs, almost always with a tree growing beside them, where strips of cloth or rags have been left, usually tied to the branches of the tree as part of a healing ritual. It is actually becoming a problem in some places where silly people are tying synthetic fabrics and objects into the trees, which of course don’t degrade (which is the whole point, the rotting and returning to earth of the fabric is what symbolises the healing).

Clootie Well

Bind gently the source of pain 

with a roughly torn strip of wet cloth

soaked through with healing water.

Unwrap the dry fabric again,

and knot to branches hanging over;

Wellness returns in rotting matter.

 

NaPoWrMo #2: Body Plans

For today’s napowrimo effort, an edited version of one of my found poems.

Body Plans

Too much has been allowed to pass. 

                 We must gather the threads; observe what history weaves for women.

Mythical beginnings of conflict hold

                invisible maps of body plans illustrating a complex dance.

 Kaleidoscopes of glittering pigments reveal

                eyes, wings, elaborate bodies; luring insects with colour and fragrance

Breathtakingly complex, she improvises

                 through many variations; girl,  future mother, grandmother.

Walking evolutions path, swimming

                in a floating house, reaching for the sky; Heroica faces land and sea

– and the first feathers appear.

Napowrimo #1: Magnolia Waiting

I am showing my poetry a little love this month by taking part in NaPoWriMo, and writing a poem each day for the month of April. Here’s number one, about the magnolia tree I watch every day from my window.

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Magnolia Waiting

A hint of pink flashes
in budding April breeze,
gentle sway suggests
just enough; a hint of opening.

She is waiting. Patience
protects a healing heart
from cruel frosts and bitter
winds that whip through uninvited.

Wandering eyes will miss
it all. Gentle attention day
after day will witness deep
blooming; a flowering from the heart.

New material

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This week sees me piecing together fragments, little remnants of my shoe-making and some text found in a second hand book about magnolias and rhododendrons. The beginnings of something new methinks. I also went to a talk in Ludlow last night by Imogen Goldsmith-Du Fours, which was about Bohemian apparel and lifestyle. Imogen shared this wonderful poem by Rimbaud which has got me thinking about rustling stars and all kinds of tactile goodness…enjoy.

My Bohemia
A Fantasy

And so off I went, fists thrust in torn pockets
Of a coat held together by no more than it’s name.
O Muse, how I served you beneath the blue;
And oh what dreams of dazzling love I dreamed!

My only pair of pants had a huge hole.
–Like some dreaming Tom Thumb, I sowed
Rhyme with each step. My inn was the Big Dipper.
–My stars rustled in the sky.

Roadside on warm September nights
I listened as drops of dew fell
On my forehead like fortifying wine;

And there, surrounded by shadows, I rhymed
Aloud, and as if they were lyres, plucked the laces
Of my wounded shoes, one foot beneath my heart.

 – Rimbaud

Nest

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I am making a nest.

Weaving it out of bits and bobs, whatever twigs and scraps I find in the studio and garden.

It makes me feel peaceful, settled, home.

Making it helps me notice the birds more and observe their behaviour.

Perhaps when it is done I will tie it in a tree for a feathered friend to discover…

New collage pieces

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Detail from Intimacy With Moonlight and Precious (2014)

Warm pinks delicately compliment Indian handmade paper.

                    A circular rust mark on a piece of muslin becomes the moon,
                    words emerge to bask in it’s light.

Fragments of an ancient language are preserved,

                                                                revered,

                                                                      made precious. 

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These pieces are both available to buy in my new folksy shop

2014: Unravelling Resolution

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On this turning into 2014, a space opens before starting the tasks of the day. I gave up setting resolutions years ago, as a fluid, ongoing relationship with change is so much more organic. Our standard meaning of resolute as determined, decided, absolute or final comes from a shift in meaning circa 1500, whereas previous understanding came from the Latin resolutus, meaning to untie, unfasten, loose, loosen. Resolution was hence understood as a ‘breaking into parts’ from Old French resolution or directly from the Latin resolutionem; a process of reducing things into simpler forms. 

A similar shift in meaning has occurred in the word resolve, which in the modern sense is used to describe a finality, of ‘working things out’ once and for all. An earlier meaning (recorded in the late 14th century) refer to melting, dissolving and reducing to liquid. Resolve’s predecessor, The Old French resolver, come directly from Latin resolvere; to loosen, loose, unyoke, undo; explain; relax; set free; make void or dispel.

So perhaps the making of resolutions is really an un-doing, a relaxing and acceptance. An un-making as we make the future.

Happy New Year,

Emily x

Collage

To order a copy of Found, my pamphlet of collaged poetry, please get in touch.

Make Do and Mend

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As if a sheet of cotton were suddenly ripped in two, I am torn  
from
both fantasy and reality. My soul has stitched itself so closely 
to this idea
that unpicking renders the edges of this fabric altered.

Frayed and imperfect, love is never new and neatly pressed.

Real relationships are mended and repaired, their history traced
through the patching up of hearts, hopes darned onto new realities.

Keep making,

do not fear the sharp point as it pierces a new threshold.

With the lightest of touch, let us feel our way into new loving.

Image: Japanese ‘Boro’ textiles. Boro means ‘tattered cloth’ and is the term given to heavily patched and repaired indigo cotton – mostly bedclothes, futon covers and fisherman’s jackets. Some have been repaired so many times that the original material is barely visible.

Anam Cara

Last week I had the pleasure of visiting Anam Cara, a retreat centre outside Inverness. Anam Cara is a Gaelic word meaning “soul friend” It symbolises a spiritual friendship that is not affected by time, distance, or separation. In the old Celtic tradition, the Anam Cara was someone you could share your innermost self, mind and heart. This soul friendship was an act of recognition and belonging helping us return to the heart of our spirit. The community at Anam Cara have chosen this name as a symbol for the “circle of belonging” that inner friendship which embraces nature, divinity, spirit and human world as one.

I spent two nights there, overlooking the city lights from a wild place. There is something unique about the setting of a retreat centre so close to urban life; a relatedness, an ability to ‘be’ without shutting out the world.

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There are beautiful new seeds germinating at Anam Cara, including this space next to the healing room. This wild patch (next to a natural well) will become a healing garden devoted to the divine mother. We hope to make something together for this space, which is already touched by art in the form of glass work on the healing room walls.

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The time was slow, reflective and curious. I walked, meditated and got to know the Anam Cara family a little. We spoke of meditation, Buddhism, women, transition and community. On the theme of divine mother, the egg came up as a symbol of new life, inspired by the community’s new members; four gorgeous young ducks.

A return in the summer is on the cards, but for now a small gift made from materials found on site and a few extras from my travelling craft box.

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Haptic Poetry

Haptic: any form of nonverbal communication involving touch (from Greek ἅπτω = ‘I fasten onto, I touch’).

The wondrous Wikipedia tells me there is even such a thing as haptic poetry:

Haptic poetry, like visual poetry and sound poetry, is a liminal art form combining characteristics of typography and sculpture to create objects not only to be seen, but to be touched and manipulated. Indeed, in haptic poetry, the sense of touch (and, to a lesser extent, the other senses) is equal to, if not more important than, the sense of sight, yet both text-based poetry and haptic poetry have the same goals: to create an aesthetic effect in the minds of the intended audience.

It is quite magical when you have been creating along certain lines, then discover those lines have been following invisible tracks of a ‘thing’ that already exists. Like finding community or tapping into a shared consciousness.

Brambles

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Eyes explore hedgerow,
searching for treasure.
Fingers gently close on
each ripe fruit to pluck.
Brambles fight back, spiked
victory marked by strand
of snagged red wool,
scratched hand. Lifting
berry to lips bite down
releasing sharp tang. Lips
and fingernails stained
with black-purple memory.

Feeling the Way

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Recently I have been experimenting with textiles and maps. In the past I did a lot of mapping using paper, and am enjoying transferring that into more tactile media. There is something very touching about embroidering the boundaries of place that embodies a new kind of awareness.

This little map of Mull is made from a scrap of fabric that someone very dear gave me from Singapore, appliquéd onto a bit of my old painting jeans. As I made it I felt I was becoming more aware of my present location, whilst weaving memories into a new time and place.

Walking the Ecological Self Home

Inspired by Steve Thorp’s 21soul programme, I recently took my ‘ecological self’ out on a walk. 21soul is a new online course, coaching and training practice based on an integration of psychology, life practice and ecology. It aims at helping people live and work authentically, deeply, ecologically and creatively in the context of these challenging times. It is for those who carry great sensitivity, intellectual curiosity, creativity and anger at the state of things. The programme works on the basis that there are three strands to the self; the social self, the ecological self and the soul self.

After engaging with the course materials for some time, I took my ecological self for a walk at Croig, a wild and sparsely inhabited bit of the coast on North Mull. It took a while to tune into her, until well away from the car and paths. Once in what felt more like wilderness, she began to walk beside me. We were looking for the secret beach. Approaching the rise of the land that obscures it, the ecological self became increasingly aware of surfaces, textures and natural colour palettes.

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Eventually, the quiet inlet revealed itself. We were alone; Just me, the ecological self, some sheep and two oyster catchers. The ecological self is happy to be on her own. Not that she doesn’t like to be with people, but is content with herself and nature. She took off her shoes, after days of chilly weather it felt good to have her feet in the sand. Scanning the shore, she was pleased to see it littered with shells; something we needed to collect for a dreamcatcher-making workshop.

Working our way down the beach, we began to gather. The ecological self is a collector; finding natural objects is a way of honouring nature’s abundance. This act is absorbing, meditative and fulfilling. She noticed all the different colours of the shells she collected. In tune with her art after a productive morning in the studio, harvesting these goods felt like an extension of the day’s free flowing creativity.

We carried on up the coast, picking up the odd feather. She likes to walk, and spend time in the body. At this point I noticed that my core and hands were tingling with the power to create. Time passed very, very slowly. The ecological self isn’t interested in what time it is.

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I spied a path down to another hidden inlet, and we make our way down to the beautiful blue and white sand cove. Picking a path down over the rocks, I was hit by a sudden stench. Death. With a bit of a shock I see I am almost about to stumble over the rotting carcass of a sheep. Morbid fascination takes hold for a few seconds as I work out what animal it was, and observe how the remains of the skin stretches over the bones…and then I felt very sick and moved quickly away.

Wandering back down the road, I realised I was hungry. Two young sheep went to cross my path, but froze cautiously. They looked me straight in the eye, and I looked back at them for what feels like a long time. The ecological self questioned if I could eat them if I had to kill them, or pick their flesh from their bones whilst still in the arrangement of something once living? There was an accusatory glint in their eyes. Feeling somewhat ashamed, I walk on. Having been 90% vegetarian all my life, I now feel the need to make this an active life choice and haven’t eaten meat since this walk. This is a choice also motivated by Em Strang and Susan Richardson‘s poetry workshop I attended earlier this year on the theme on animals; which involved writing from a non-human perspective.

Back in the studio I washed and sorted my treasures. The ecological self relishes this kind of task; for she is practical and enjoys the work of treating these finds like precious objects.

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Whilst picking up these shells I thought about how each shell is a tiny home, now uninhabited by the beings who once lived there.

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