Performance
Under the Mulberry Tree
Symposium: Evolving the Forest by art.earth, 2019
My works made for the Garden Space at Dartington Hall and Gardens were inspired by the Common Black Mulberry Tree (Morus Nigra). When I stumbled across the Mulberry tree it was in fruit, I picked and ate some mulberries, they stained my hands a deep burgundy red, the consistency and colour blood-like.
The body of visual work that followed led to giving a talk at the Evolving the Forest conference in 2019, the talk illustrated my research into the Mulberry’s rich history and its connection with legends. I was then given the opportunity to write a piece for a published book by art.earth in 2020.
‘Under the Mulberry Tree 1, Love and Death (Thisbe and Pyramus)’, 2018.
A short film made on my mobile phone, 25 seconds, looped.
Thisbe and Pyramus were lovers whose neighbouring families were rivals, they spoke through a crack in the wall. They arranged to meet secretly under a White Mulberry Tree. Thisbe arrived first, veiled so as not to be recognised, she waited by the tree when a lioness approached, her jaws bloody from a kill. Thisbe fled, dropping her veil, the lioness tore at the veil leaving it on the ground. Shortly after this Pyramus arrived but saw only Thisbe’s veil stained with blood and ripped to shreds. Believing his dear Thisbe was killed by a lion and unable to bear the grief for his lover, Pyramus kills himself with his sword. Thisbe returned to the tree to see her veil lying next to Pyramus’ body; on realising he ended his life for his love for her and in an attempt to unite with him, she too takes her own life by stabbing herself with his sword. It is said that the blood seeped from the lovers into the roots of the tree and the Mulberry’s berries were stained forever more.
The story of Thisbe and Pyramus was first told by the Roman poet Ovid in Metamorphoses.
‘Listening for the sound of the ‘goings’, with ear trumpet’.
Under the Mulberry at Torre Abbey, 2019.
‘At Dartington, I waited under the mulberry tree and recorded the sounds I heard; I hoped for a pure natural sound but of course the birdsong, the bumble bees, the leaves rustling in the wind and the rain falling on the canopy were all interrupted by road traffic in the distance, airplanes, a steam train, garden machinery and human chatter. Initially frustrated I soon realised that these sounds were all a part of nature, a modern-day industrial nature.’
Extract from Evolving the Forest publication, 2020, by artdotearth.
‘Homage to Bombyx mori’, 2020
Fukusa embroidered silk threads on French linen backed with red cloth.
A Fukusa is a Japanese ceremonial cloth used for gift wrapping and is used in tea ceremonies for ritually cleaning the tea utensils. The Fukusa is square and can vary in size from 23cm to 91cm, is usually highly decorative, embroidered, dyed or woven. The design on a Fukusa has a symbolic image and the reverse is usually red or orange for those used by women and purple for those used by men.
‘Under the Mulberry Tree’ works continue on my Site-specific page here >
Sound & Vision
Oxford Improvisers’ ‘Cohesion 4’ Festival at Pegasus Theatre,
Oxford, 2010
I was invited to perform with the Oxford Improvisers at Pegasus Theatre for one evening. It was arranged that I collaborate with electronic engineer, Chris Stubbs. My materials were baby talcum powder, brushes, water, a sieve, human figure and letter stencils, and black paper. As I moved around the space and made marks with the talc, Chris played sounds in response, I also responded to the improvised electronic noises he made. My sounds were rigged to a microphone and became a part of the soundscape within the space.
Charcoal Dust
Transition, Newlyn Art Gallery, Cornwall, 2008
A woman sits in the middle of a large piece of white paper.
There is a pile of Rhododendron charcoal next to her.
The woman takes the charcoal, piece by piece, and grinds it to dust.
When she is finished she steps away from the paper.
A sudden gust of wind lifts the charcoal and paper into the air.
Some of the charcoal dust falls to the ground nearby.
Some of the charcoal dust is carried for miles.
The charcoal dust is scattered but traces of its existence remain ingrained in the paper.
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My story ‘Charcoal Dust’ is essentially about flux and how nothing is ever fixed but is continuously in process, everything dies and begins again in a new form, taking new life.
In this performance I used this story as a starting point, adding to the original text without any preconception of where it might lead; the story evolved; there was no end and the writing only stopped when the gallery closed.
