Essential Nature

Going Walkabout...

2011-07-06T01:09:00.006+01:00

We are drawing this blog to a close. For ongoing news please see the Essential Nature site: http://www.essentialnature.org.uk/. You can join the mailing list there too, to be kept informed.

Thank you for your interest, and I hope you have enjoyed following our trail so far.

Wishing you many happy wanderings...

Braunton Burrows: another timeless journey

2011-07-05T21:50:00.004+01:00

We met on a mild sunny evening, and walked through this amazing stretch of duneland for several hours - marvelling at the sheer diversity and beauty of the plants, and the associated moths and other small creatures that John pointed out to us. An unforgettable experience!

Braunton Burrows is one of the largest sand dune systems in Britain, and is the core area of a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve. Here's a site where you can find out about walks and events going on throughout the summer: Braunton Burrows Wildlife walks.

And a little further west along the North Devon Coast, in the Hartland area, there are some fascinating wildflower explorations run by local writer and plant enthusiast Clare Gurton... http://www.plantwalk.co.uk/.

Going with the Flow: Indigo Skies

2011-06-20T12:17:00.057+01:00

The weather forecast had been terrible and with great reluctance I had to cancel the walking art workshop. Walking in the rain and wind – that's ok and can be fun and exhilarating - but the creative activities I had planned might have been somewhat problematic. Drawing, painting, writing… and sitting in wet thrashing grass reading poetry, occasional flurries of sand blowing in ones cold face… that might not have been everyone's ideal workshop activity.

Myself, I have on more than one occasion been told I come from the Turner School of Art (you know… the guy who, they say, had himself lashed to a ship's mast in a ferocious storm, in order to fully experience the forces of nature). But I think I have mellowed a bit as the years have gone by. I worry about getting sand in my camera – and I worry about other people, blinded, spectacles misted with rain and falling down a rabbit hole.

I rang round all the participants, apologising profusely for the cancellation. But some of us decided to take the Turner option. We decided we would do the walk anyway, whatever the weather.
And so, five of us found ourselves out in the wind and rain on Northam Burrows. We had a fabulously enjoyable time – in fact we stayed out longer than the original time planned. The rain, though continuous was not too heavy, and the wind was fair but not too fierce. We walked slowly, at our own pace, and from time to time we paused to view the horizon, to consider the expanse and turbulence of the Atlantic Ocean, to breathe in the fresh wind, soften and open ourselves to the power and movement all around. Our breath and our steps merged with the rhythm of the waves, and our senses sharpened.

We noticed the subtle colours and shades of indigo spread across the stormy sky, and how this colour and light was reflected in water and on stone. We examined miles of filigree patterns in the sand, and someone remarked that it was "solar light written in gold". We saw a myriad bright wildflowers at our feet, and strange little moths hiding along the grass stalks, and some tiny yellow and black stripey caterpillars. We enjoyed the booming sound of the wind past our ears, and the light pattering of raindrops on our protective waterproof hoods. We became open receivers.

The slower we walked the more our eyes and ears and bodies and all our senses became attuned to the vastness and power of nature and at the same time, the intricate and ever-changing detail all around us – of plants and insects, birds and small animals, and the incredible variety of terrain: the soft green grass of the golf course, clumps of sharp rush and thistle, soft sandy undulating dunes, sheltered hollows and the hard shifting pebbles bordering the flat beach.

Indigo Skies - picture slideshow

Pools of warm silence arose naturally between us as we each immersed ourselves in our own experiences. Occasionally we stumbled across burrows and large dug-out holes at our feet, entrances to underground cities… and huge gnarled logs that had been washed downstream in winter storms and become stranded.

We seemed to move as one, like a small flock of birds carried along in a current of air. From time to time we voiced our impressions, thoughts and random memories which floated upwards and drifted away.
Most of us had never met before, but as we walked round and dropped into a slow rhythm of wind and waves and walking, we felt at home with each other and our magnificent surroundings - we felt a part of it all.

From time to time a few grazing sheep would wander across our paths, a flurry of wings would cut the air, or a distant figure appear on the beach at the ocean's edge. All was vibrant and full of light and subtle colour.

And right at the very end, arriving back where we had started, a skylark rose straight up in front of us. We stopped, gazing upwards, entranced by its song as it rose higher and higher and higher and higher and disappeared into the clouds.

This day will live on in our memory – perhaps all the more vividly because the weather prevented us from recording it with sketches or written notes – obliging us to pay attention and simply take it all in.

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Appledore Summer Festival

2011-06-05T21:09:00.003+01:00

Sunday – a more overcast day today – looks like rain. Just as well. My neck and shoulders are still sore after Fridays sunburn. The Appledore silver band arrives and settles down to wait for the Vicar's open air service. People begin to gather around, chatting quietly.

The Scouts arrive, and there is a lot of activity –what is going to happen, I ask myself. Eventually they erect an enormous white tent, and from time to time I stroll casually past, hoping they might be running a barbeque. I see there are plants and egg boxes, and I decide they are going to sell garden produce. People come past, telling me that down the quayside there are belly dancers amongst the craft stalls.

The band strikes up: Amazing Grace, Tell me the Old Old Story'… Blessed Assurance' … and there is a lump in my throat as memories come flooding in, of an innocent time long ago, and my long dead granny: a devout Methodist and a great singer.

The Vicar arrives, says he would like to pass the hat round and send funds to the people of Sudan who are undergoing yet more horrible warfare. Is that all right, he asks. The crowd shouts 'yes, yes', and he calls out 'who's got a hat, then? Let's fill it up'.

Back at my table, promoting my art walks, I am overwhelmed with the smell of diesel from a little fishing boat. The owner is charging the batteries. Eventually the noise of his engine and the smell goes away, thank goodness, and I can now hear the couple of young men charging about the water on motorised surf boards. Then it all goes quiet. Around 11.30 as the open air Service draws to a close, I hear tentative sounds of a folk musician and another girl singer (or maybe it is the same one), starting up a few yards down the quay.

I discover the Scouts are selling Rice Crispie cakes and plants, and the egg boxes are full of beads as the girl scouts show people how to make bracelets. I buy some Rice Crispie cakes, delicious, but decline to 'Soak a Scout' for £1. By the look of the sky, we are all going to get pretty wet soon anyway.

A happy black spaniel skips along, carrying his red lead in his mouth, wagging his tail furiously as he spots a potential doggy friend in front. A boy falls off his scooter in front of me. A man goes by carrying two pleated paper lampshades. The folk musicians and the girl singer get under way, and it begins to rain.

Sculpture in the Woods: Another Grand Day Out

2011-05-31T13:04:00.000+01:00

We went to the Sculpture Gardens at Broomhill Art Hotel. We stepped into a steep green woodland setting, absorbed the scent of soft fresh air and a hint of rain which just held off. I was glad it was like this because I knew bright sunshine through waving branches and foliage would create crazy shadows in any photographs I might take. Not that I ended up by taking anything other than quick snapshots: fleeting moments, movement through the trees, brief flashes of sunlight, blurred impressions of people and sculptures floating in and out of vision.

Wandering around the sculpture gardens, and coming from a sculpture background myself, my first thought was that it was a little cluttered. Pieces were fighting each other rather than playing off each other. But I was thrilled that the exuberant early summer foliage had burst forth creating living green screens around the works, giving me a quite different way of appreciating the work. One caught tantalising glimpses of colour and form… the sheen of metal, an elegant curve, an interesting arrangement of parts…

Even up close one could rarely see the sculpture as a whole, as one constantly had to take into account the physicality of root and stone, slippery banks and grass, undergrowth, wildflowers , bushes and trees. Each pause at each sculpture was a trigger for the imagination and one could not separate the sculptures from their living surroundings.

I was also aware how the static sculptures made points of focus, and somehow heightened my awareness of movement and sounds all around. Birds, leaves, butterflies, water running in the stream, splashing over stones, rippling with fine rain. Distant glimpses of colour and form, movement, snatches of birdsong , rustling sounds and muffled voices all filled and animated the lush green woods. This was an interlude – a transition between one story and another.

It was a kind of browsing time, absorbing experiences and impressions that, for some of us, may well emerge in some future piece of work. Walking slowly, talking quietly, we slipped our minds out of gear, pausing at each point of interest, letting our memories and fantasies play freely.

This beautiful piece swirled and glided slowly in the stream perfectly harmonising with the mood of the day. Other than this, I have not focused on the sculptures as such, as I wanted to convey my experience.

Afterwards we visited the Opening of the delightful North Devon Arts Square Picture Show, flitting from picture to picture like bees, sipping a little bit here and a little bit there. The gallery gradually filled up with people, becoming more and more crowded – and eventually became too hot and noisy for me. I stepped out into the air and into the hotel, where I sank into an enormous comfy armchair, joining Anne and Pauline for afternoon tea. Yes – decidedly another grand day out!

Essential Nature Exhibition

2011-05-11T22:08:00.000+01:00

Here's a few samples of work from participants of our recent art walks. Five different local landscapes - five responses to place.

Essential Nature walks and workshops are about deepening our connection with our natural surroundings, enriching our lives and expressing this awareness in a wide variety of art forms - sketching, painting, photography, movement, performance, environmental sculpture, weaving, mixed media, creative writing... The list is endless. Sometimes a walk can have the most profound imapct by simply coming along and doing absolutely nothing at all.

Uppacott Wood: Anne Wilkinson

Fleece weaving inspired by Hartland Quay: Caroline Baxter

Rockham Bay: Caroline Baxter

Fremington Quay: Hazel Pye

'Resting Place' Northam Burrows: Linda Gordon

Most of all, Essential Nature is about the sheer pleasure of doing it! We have an exhibition of our work now running at the North Devon Library, Barnstaple until May 21st.

low tide

2011-05-02T22:14:00.002+01:00

Early in April we visited Fremington Quay near Barnstaple. Fremington used to be a thriving port and was the home of the famous Fishley Pottery. The geology here is amazing, with many coloured earth pigments in layers on the cliff face. Here’s Anne’s finger painting made on site during our visit.

Today it is a tranquil and relaxing place for enjoying the open air. There were few other people about during our visit.

Positioning herself on the rocky headland by the old derelict lime kilns, Michelle carried out an impromptu sequence of body movement as the tide eased itself outwards and the sun travelled inexorably across the sky. It seemed to me that she was holding the place and the experience of this place for us, as we drifted to and fro around the cliffs, exploring, dreaming. Indeed, as part of her process, she erected a small stone cairn to mark the occasion, a point of stillness amongst all the movement.

I, unfortunately, forgot to bring my camera, so have no pictures to show! Though I did a couple of rough sketches, and collected some pieces of different coloured rock to play around with at home. These are now sitting happily in a plastic bag in the garden shed, along with all my other ‘treasures’.

Return to Hartland

2011-03-24T21:56:00.000Z

Saturday, we made another visit to Hartland on a heavenly calm spring day. Here's more pictures of the strange up-ended rock layers formed millions of years ago.

Knowing the Place

2011-03-06T22:29:00.001Z

It was very good to walk in the woods with people knowledgeable about trees, plants and wildlife. To have one’s attention drawn to points of interest, and to learn a little of the natural history of this particular wood, and indeed the history of human involvement with it too. It was a perspective I don’t normally take when out in the landscape – I tend to focus more upon my embodied experience, opening the senses, breathing, relaxing, responding, imagining… my particular way, as an artist, of relating to my environment.

I was with a Devon Wildlife Trust working party in Uppacott Wood – a small mixed wood, on a hill near Barnstaple, surrounded by farmland. Yes, I have mentioned Uppacott Wood before in this blog. But I am beginning to fall in love with it, so thought I would just mention it again.

I had been expecting to be spending the day on some clearing or pruning activity – but instead, found myself walking in this magical place with Paul, Joyce and Alison. (All places are magical, of course. It is just a matter of tuning in). The sun was shining, small birds were flitting busily between the trees, and in a corner of the wood a mass of daffodils was just beginning to come into bloom. Whether they were wild or planted by humans, we didn’t know, and it didn’t matter.

I walked clutching a small map, enjoying the water, stones, roots and squelchy mud underfoot, trying to memorise where we were and what I was seeing, as Paul and Joyce talked about what was before us, drawing our attention to twigs and bark, plants and birds, as well as old tracks and embankments made by humans.

We looked at fungi and typical woodland plants, noting where they grew. We peered into dormouse and bird boxes to find signs of former habitation: droppings, heaped up old dead leaves… and one acorn just beginning to sprout.

As we walked, Paul pointed out trackways and old hedge banks, giving a good idea of how the wood might have been used in centuries gone by: partitioned into small sections for the use of individual small farmers. The wood was crucial to survival in an infinite variety of ways – the timber would have been used for building homes, hurdles, fencing, and of course firewood. Running right through the wood was a wide track, obviously once used for moving cattle. At one end the track opened out into what appeared to be a cattle holding place. When I say ‘obviously’, I guess what I mean is that things become obvious once they have been drawn to one’s attention.

What had until now been a confusing tangle of paths, ditches and banks slowly began to make sense. I stuffed the map in my pocket and began to read the landscape coherently - piecing together little bits of information and building a picture of life gone by.

For sure, the picture might have existed solely in my own mind, but it was vivid and felt real, producing a realisation that we - along with birds, animals, insects, trees, plants and fungi - are but the latest temporary settlers and users of this piece of land.

Later on, after lunch, we cut back branches overhanging a neighbouring field - playing our part in the never-ending story.

Rockham Bay:artwalking

2011-02-21T20:51:00.006Z

I could hardly see through the rain and mist as I was driving along, or perhaps it was a heavy layer of cloud that had descended. It was one of those grey sunless days when cold and dampness seep into the skin into the body, chilling the bones. Not very conducive to sitting around sketching the landscape, I thought - or lying in the grass admiring the sky - however, there are three good pubs in the village of Mortehoe where we were meeting, so I was not too worried!

I had never been to Rockham Bay before. I was excited in a subdued grown-up sort of way. I was the first to arrive, and as I wandered around getting a sense of the place, I could feel that it was slowly becoming warmer and lighter. Not much wind and I could begin to feel the sun on my face.

Through the green steep-sided valley, we could see the sea straight ahead. We could feel spring in the air – birds were singing and wild snowdrops lined the narrow muddy track as we clambered down. We passed through twisted and dwarfed trees, thick with lichen and moss, distorted and deformed by the Atlantic wind. But today there was no wind. The mist was dispersing and it was growing gradually warmer.

We came steeply down to a small secluded bay - all around were grey slatey cliffs, dramatic with fractured vertical fissures. Formed around 30 million years ago apparently, at a time when the tectonic plates of the Earth were shifting, and forcing the rock under intense pressure to fold and concertina tight so that the normally horizontal layers were tipped up and became vertical.

Scattered jagged rocks were strewn under the cliffs, and beyond the rocks, an expanse of pristine sand and the distant sea.

Amongst the rocks we found the remains of a shipwreck, sunk into the ground, fused into the rocks so it was almost indistinguishable from them.

The sun came through as each in our own reverie enjoyed the fresh air, the peace and tranquility and the slow rhythm of the sea.

Rockham Bay is owned by the National Trust. Looking on their website afterwards, I read that this area :

“… has a rich history of smuggling and wrecking; the wreckers of Mortehoe were greatly feared by sailors [… ]. The locally found Morte Slates produce distinctive rock with razor edges. The currents here are treacherous and have caused a great many ships to be wrecked on the jagged rocks”.

A stage set for human drama.

Acts of Grace on a Monday Morning

2011-02-06T10:50:00.000Z

Sitting in my bedroom feeling low – the ginger cat rushes upstairs howling, and sits his bare bum on my bare foot. He’s the one I rescued as a kitten 11 years ago, and who shivered silently for a year until he learned how to purr.

Neighbours are talking quietly outside my front door. We exchange greetings. I pause to chat to a mother settling her small daughter into the car.

Driving on to the Burrows, I stop to allow the horses to come across the little bridge. They take their time. Another driver comes up behind them, and forces them into a trot. I try to give him a disapproving look as he passes, but unfortunately I burst out laughing at myself instead, ending up looking like a deranged lunatic.

An elderly man walking slowly and laboriously arrives back at his car, accompanied by a collie. I can see they have had a good time. The dog is panting. His feathery tail is blowing in the wind. He drops the ball from his mouth, and it is put into the car.

The man puts down a plastic bowl for water, but it blows away across the grass. He manages to catch it and fill it from a plastic bottle. He touches the dog’s shoulder, then touches the bowl with pointed finger. The dog drinks. The man refills the bowl, and again touches the dog, then touches the bowl, and the dog drinks again.

A flock of starlings rises up into the sky, turns and swerves into the light and disappears. I wish I could find a way to express the corresponding circling movement inside my body.

A couple come along. They have been for a walk – except that the woman can barely move. She has a Zimmer frame, and they inch along to the side of their car. The man brings out a stick for her to lean on whilst he turns the Zimmer frame to the edge of the grass, pointing it towards the car door. I watch them slowly negotiating the last few feet. They are both fairly old, but the man is much bigger, stronger and fitter than the woman. He moves briskly, quietly. Everything gets packed away and they drive off. I know he will spend all his waking hours and minutes caring for the woman’s needs.

I haven’t actually got on to the Burrows yet, but it is time to go home for lunch.

frost

2011-01-26T12:47:00.004Z

Pauline Dyer sent these photos and text after our morning at Uppacott Wood. More pictures are on the Essential Nature website.

Full circle turn

Excitment of first meeting

Greedy for ice cold wild places

Move through time

find at its heart

lacy beauty of frost and tree

Meet with eternity

as Uppacott expectant waits

Life from leaf floor rising

Uppacott Wood

2011-01-23T12:58:00.001Z

We had a fabulous walk this morning in the frosty woods, pottering about, drawing, painting, taking photos. Sun filtering through the trees made everything sparkle. It is good to be alive!

This is a small mostly oak woodland - a nature reserve owned and cared for by the Devon Wildlife Trust for the benefit of the local ecosystem... and ourselves of course, the fleeting visitors.

First Artwalk

2010-11-25T17:33:00.006Z

Hartland Quay, North Devon. I told everyone to expect sun, rain, ferocious Atlantic winds, mud, salt spray. And to round it all off at 1pm ... delicious hot soup from the hotel.

As it turned out, I got everything (except the soup) wrong - including misreading the Tide Table as high tide instead of low tide! We discovered a pristine and almost deserted sandy beach, protected by dramatic cliffs. And the wind had veered to the east, blowing gently from inland rather than from across the Atlantic. It was so mild, I just lounged about on the rocks with no coat on, taking the occasional photograph. Nothing like a good hearty walk, I thought, to get the blood circulating and work up an appetite!

Next walk: Rockham Bay near Mortehoe. 4th December, 10.30 am. I have never been there before, so I cannot tell you what it is like...

Winds of Change

2010-11-03T18:33:00.010Z

The Northam Burrows project is now over, and new ones are already under way.
I will continue to publish news and brief announcements of any current activities.

For the latest news, please see the Essential Nature website!

photo by Prana Simon

Thank you for your great company!

Local Connections

2010-10-13T21:52:00.050+01:00

This blog was started as a part of a small local event: the Essential Nature Art Walks, which took place back in June in the beautiful and fascinating area of the North Devon Coast. Even though this may not be your locality, and you may not even have heard of North Devon, I hope something in these posts will resonate with you, and give you pleasure.

Thinking locally and living close to the land is, I believe, extremely important in giving us a sense of belonging and solidity. So much of our culture tends to separate us from our felt connection with life, the environment and each other. Life is fragmented, glimpsed through screens: windscreens, computer screens, TV screens...

My own approach as an artist is often one of solitary wandering - tuning in to my surroundings and allowing them to work upon me. It is a way of connecting - not to mention developing knowledge, awareness and sensitivity to the processes of

nature and the myriad life-forms all around.

Just over a year ago, I thought it was time to start sharing my working process with others... and so the project started - with a few tentative ideas and some encouragement from the AONB. People have continued to make creative work inspired by the walks, and now, to round off the project, we are about to show our work at the North Devon Library in Barnstaple.

What a brilliant way to finish up! I will try to make a video for you to see on this blog. Meanwhile, here are a couple of photos from the walks, and a recent poem by one of the participants, Jann Wirtz:

SEASCAPE

Ocean hush.. blue and yellow heat

wind booms across the ear.

Pale calligraphy of stones…

marram heads dip and plume.

The long white lines curl, join, collapse.

The sky moves to grey pearl

and rain blurs the horizon.

Near the sinking sand,

giants in rock streaked with iron,

spattered with bright lichen.

Outwards, patterns of acid green

where weed drapes stones in shallow pools.

The rain is coming in.

A man draws with a stick in the sand,

sharply reflected in a shine of water.

A skylark rises into the darkening sky…

rain on my page.

Jann Wirtz

Sand Drawings

2010-09-28T21:28:00.001+01:00

Time and tide have erased all trace of our activity on Northam Burrows. All that remains are some lovely memories.

Content with Silence

2010-09-22T22:56:00.002+01:00

A tidal spiral earthwork that I made three years ago, at the Skern, just at the tip of Northam Burrows, by Appledore. It is still there, now draped with a thick curtain of luscious green seaweed: covered and uncovered, covered and uncovered every single day by the Atlantic tide.

Exhibitions

2010-08-24T22:17:00.000+01:00

Our work is now on show at the Burrows Centre and at Northam Library. They look very good! Pictures are at the library until 4th September and at the Burrows indefinitely. Here's a couple of details:

It is great to have received so many pictures and pieces of writing, inspired by our North Devon walks. Thank you everyone who contributed. Please keep sending me contributions towards our larger exhibition at the Barnstaple Central Library in October. Hoping to meet some of you there!

ART WALK - 28.6.10

2010-07-07T22:09:00.000+01:00

Toeing The Line !

I traced a line out to sea with a stick.

OK, it might not sound like a very big deal artistically, but bear in mind (1 ) it was a homage to Richard Long, ( 2) I’d never consciously “created art” on a walk before, and (3) it was an AWFULLY long way.

It was one of those huge flat expanses of sand where the tide comes rushing in at a million miles per hour and completely changes the look of the place. But when its out you have to walk for ages before you get to paddle in any waves at all. And the stick I’d grabbed in my sudden moment of inspiration was a rather short piece of driftwood , so I had to bend down all the long way out in order to draw the line. In keeping with the inherent duality of life, this proved to be both a disadvantage and an advantage ; the former because it gave me backache and made me have to crouch down , and the latter because it meant I got a close up view of the sand , and really noticed the different colours and textures , and the ridges going this way and that left by the outgoing tide.

Some of the time, in order to relieve the pain in my back, I took to walking backward , which gave me an interesting perspective on the shoreline I’d just left, and the other people on the Art Walk wandering about tiny in the distance doing I knew not what. I looked back at the huge rocks sculpted smooth by the sea , haphazardly arranged as if they’d been thrown there by a giant hand, and was constantly aware of the fluting sound of the skylark following me high in the sky. Then I turned back to face the sea and as the pounding of the surf got nearer I felt raindrops falling gently on the back of my neck and the gritty warmth of the sand between my toes.

It was a moment of triumph when finally, finally, I reached the water’s edge. Little wavelets kept washing away my line, so I decided I’d really reached the meeting point of sand and sea, and I stood up straight and threw my driftwood stick (and instrument of torture ) into the sea with relief. I felt a real sense of achievement, and to celebrate I took a few somewhat random photographs (because the light was so bright and reflective I couldn’t see what I was doing).

I then decided I would now follow my line all the way back to where I had started. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that it wasn’t straight at all ! It wobbled about all over the place, but I carefully walked it back, happy to be upright again, with the wind whistling about my ears, happy in my sense of having achieved what I set out to do, and even happy with the knowledge of the transience of life - that in a few hours it would be washed away , as if it had never been.

And yet the making of it will stay in my memory for a long time. Happy and alone in that vast expanse of sea, sand and sky , washed clean by Nature of all thought and feeling, I had reached that Zen-like state, “the seashore mind”. Thankyou, Linda !

Diana Knight.

photo Dave Green

Movement on the Edge

2010-07-03T17:01:00.004+01:00

Here is a glimpse of Michelle's movement within the dance of grass, sand, boulders, sea and sky. Video clip by Pauline Dyer. (Click the small screen!)

Essential Nature: ArtWalking in North Devon

Words from the Walks

2010-07-01T18:00:00.011+01:00

On the third walk (June 26th) it was a hot sunny day, with almost no cloud and hardly any air movement. Unusual for this exposed piece of land that is open to the elements and the Atlantic Ocean. We walked slower and slower and slower, allowing ourselves to become absorbed deeper and deeper into the landscape. Time hung motionless in the still air. The breeze was warm, and the pebbles, when we felt them against our cheeks were burning hot.

Photo by Pauline. On the horizon you can just see Michelle carrying out yogadance movements.

Pauline's Poem

It's the heat I remember

and the prickly grass

piercing my behind

as next to me an agile red spider

scurries over the whitened driftwood

down into the parched land

where scatterings of rabbit droppings

like dried out breakfast cereal

lay beween the reed grasses

stems trembling in an almost gentle breeze

seed heads pointing upwards

up to the blue near cloudless sky

and sky larks call

and walkers wander past

while we are sat in our reverie

Pauline Dyer

_______________________________

Michelle: Dune Nest Words

Soil solidity supports …

the soft folds of my bones and flesh

Insect sounds and subtle breezes awakens

my skin to the sensations of my outer world

Grasses green yellow dance…

gently in my fluid pool eyes

I am touched by the grace of this moment

I feel the passing of time…

Slow

Revealing

Sheep’s wool on grey stone

Woollen clouds in silk blue sky

Pen and pencil on paper

Together and alone

I meet the wildness

of this dry summer dune

Michelle Wilkinson

AONB ART WALK 26.6.10

_______________________________________________________

And here are two responses from our first walk, June 12th

Caroline's Poem

Poem on the Burrows: The Power of the Elements

Here I stand on soft sand with pen in hand…imagination, senses and inspiration from a vast expanse of land…

The Pebble Ridge with hard rocks of circles, crevices, and cracks of nature’s patterns.

A skylark is singing whilst the warm wind is blowing, thrashing, breezing, and thundering through.

The water and waves set a backdrop anthem of crashing sea in the distance; singing tides, swollen skies whilst kites surf, bound and bounce across the horizon.

Grains of sand, moving, forming; patterns of sand feathers moving with the sea, moving with the wind, moving beneath our feet, footprints, traces, trails of time.

Around the corner there are boulders huge and stones so small, intimidating and incidental: supporting, blocking, barriers of contrasts, juxtapositions and change.

Seaweed, flotsam, jetsam and wood, more evidence of change with samples of life’s diverse differences: remnants from fires, shelter for the drifter, the drifted and flashes of colour: treasure?

...No, fragments of colourful plastics from consumers, disturbing nature’s flow.

Rock pools, water, peace and calm. Birds calling, sea crashing, wind whispering...

Lush green grass, sheep and lambs; a family, protecting, calling, communicating. Lark sings, sheep beckon, we watch and pass, and breathe as we shelter in the dunes…

Mounds shadows, movement and undulations.

Blue-sky overhead; feathers of cloud, tones, puffs and pockets. The breeze rattles strokes and caresses the grass, shaking the undergrowth. New shoots trampled, green littered with fleece and daisies: green and white, the flag of Devon.

Rolling landscapes in the distance: homes, habbitats, beacons, bracken, and burrows...borrowed from nature, carved into the land. Today, an experience unique to each individual, as our lives, thoughts and engagement with creation is unique to each moment, spinning on earth’s axis and the tide leaves its mark, bringing new treasures that change futures path. Caroline Preston

photo Dave Green

_________________________________________________

At one point during the walks, I would ask people to carry out little exercises: making lists of what they could hear, see or remember, whilst resting their eyes on the horizon.

Christine's List

A list of things I noticed

The many colours of the boulders: dark rust stains, lines and splashes of white, jagged edges as though cut, hewn out of then earth. Bleached blue-white, salt-dyed below the tide line.

A dog jumps clumsily through water, eager to please, shakes its wet splashes onto smooth grey stone, leaving a dappled dark mark, soon to evaporate.

Streaks of unreasonable blue, pale sun-bleached yellow and patches of grey-brown.

A church spire.

A seagull swoops. Warm sun and bitter wind. Sheep poo in flaky asymmetric shapes. A metal tower over the trees.

Kites.

Undulating tuffets of land. Cotton-wisp clouds.

Sea-spray and white waves, and a white sail on the horizon.

A sheep black and speckled.

Witch’s hair grass, back-combed.

The sound of feet moving, soft against a skylark’s falling song.

A sentence about sitting in the sheltered dip

Thistle-pricks and daisies and the sun on my back.

Christine Cooper

Essential Nature: ArtWalking in North Devon

Art Walk Memories

2010-06-27T21:45:00.001+01:00

Some lovely pictures - from Rachel Foster, including one of a pendant she made from a found pebble.

A multitude of vibrant kites, dancing in the wind

Skylarks singing, perfect day

Shifting sand

Sand swept into contours

Have we managed to identify what these creatures are?

Azure sky

Shimmering light, the beach deserted as the ocean returns to reclaim its playground once more

Essential Nature: ArtWalking in North Devon

Find out about the AONB art walks at Northam Burrows.

Small is beautiful

2010-06-23T16:08:00.006+01:00

What a lovely sunny afternoon for our enlightening walk with Linda on Northam Burrows on the 18th June. My passion is photography. I love grand vistas and landscapes and the Burrows has plenty of those to offer. However, I decided to concentrate on the small scale patterns and designs in nature that often go unnoticed. I'll let my images do the talking. Thank you Linda for opening my eyes to the Burrows.

To view more of my images, http://www.redbubble.com/people/lorrainemx

breathtaking, moving, memorable

2010-06-22T10:41:00.004+01:00

The walk on June 12 was Linda's first walk but felt like she had been doing it for months and years. It was an extraordinarily beautiful day - brilliant sunshine and a stiff northerly breeze that kept us all awake and on our toes. I had never been to Northam Burrows before and although a Devonian (by lifelong adoption) don't really know the north coast that well. What an utterly amazing place. The walk had so many different facets to it, and yet felt lazy and calm and centred and personal - not like a group walk or enforced march at all in any way not even close. There were so many places to pause and look, to pause and listen, or just to pause.

These times to pause allowed us to see things few others might notice. At a tidal pool, Nancy spotted some strange trails on the sand on some rocks and after some looking noticed a small, prehistoric-looking creature crawling across the pebbles and rocks, leaving a trail through the sand behind them. It looked like a woodlouse (and yet clearly wasn't) and you just knew that this creature had been doing this for millennia - for far longer that humans had been present on this earth.

At another pause, we were serenaded by a lark. Well, it was girls he was after, the song not driven by any particular desire to please us. However it was spring lark song at its most glorious, the lark so high that he was quite literally invisible. The song stopped and suddenly from nowhere he appeared, landing just a few metres away from us. Linda had been trying to lead us through a general 360 degree listening/observing exercise during this period, but the lark's presence overwhelmed all.

We didn't bring a camera - partially a deliberate choice, and partially a pragmatic one as our early digital SLR weighs far too much to make it fun to bring on a walk. We were glad about this. Although there are some fabulous pictures taken by others, I was glad not to have to worry about capturing this very special experience through the mind and not through the lens.

Thank you Linda. This was a very special experience - one that will be remembered and savoured for some long time to come.

Richard P

sky, stone, sand, sea

2010-06-19T22:09:00.011+01:00

Second walk, June 18th - it was another sunny day - hotter than last time. The atmosphere was slightly hazy, and the breeze from the west was softer, warmer. Each time I come I am becoming more aware of these subtle differences in the quality of air. I feel I am regaining forgotten skills and sensitivities.

Meandering around the coastline, getting a sense of the sky and the ground under our feet - our feet awakening and responding to the terrain – grass, gravel, soft dry sand, large shifting pebbles and firm flat beach – even through the thick soles of our shoes.

I am surprised too, how every time I come here, I notice completely different things. Last time, in the midst of this wide-open landscape, it was tiny flowers and bright coloured moths – this time, walking along the beach I was strongly drawn to the eroded cliff edges of the dunes – their tops piled high with precariously balanced grey pebbles.

I changed the routine a little, allowing more time for creative activity. Everyone was able to work in their favourite way, as well as try out new ways of experiencing and responding to the surroundings. And I remembered to factor in a refreshment break at the halfway point!

Asked what they had enjoyed the most, people replied: The quiet sounds of nature. Walking slowly across different terrains. Being present, using all the senses.

Essential Nature: ArtWalking in North Devon

Find out about the AONB art walks at Northam Burrows.

Walking at Leisure

2010-06-16T16:06:00.004+01:00

Our first Essential Nature AONB Art Walk took place on Saturday, in idyllic sunshine, with a gentle wind wafting across the Burrows from the Atlantic.

We relaxed, taking in the views across the wide sweep of Bideford Bay. Closer to hand, we admired the variety and detail of our surroundings: soft grassland, undulating sand dunes and the long grey pebble ridge running alongside. These pebbles are from cliff falls, away round to the west, at craggy Hartland Point, and they have gradually been carried along the coast, worn smooth and rounded by years of Atlantic tides.

As we walked, the sparkling song of the skylark accompanied us along the way. We took our time. Sometimes we walked in silence - tuning in to the sounds of the wind and the distant muffled roar of the ocean from across the open beach. We felt the ground under our feet; we felt our ears and eyes softening, and our breathing deepen and slow down as we dropped into the rhythm of walking, sky and sea.

From time to time we paused to make ephemeral works, take photographs or sketch the landscape. We walked over grass and sand and clambered over dunes and pebbles. We examined rock pools. We stood in a huge field full of sheep and scanned the horizon all around. We snuggled down into a grassy hollow among the dunes and listened to nature poetry and wrote a little.

On the way back, we felt a part of the place, part of the movement - and clambering over the sand dunes, we realised we were now relaxed and almost as sure-footed as the sheep. And of course, returning to the Burrows Centre where we had started, we rounded off the afternoon in true traditional style with plenty of tea and cake.

Essential Nature: ArtWalking in North Devon

Find out about the AONB art walks at Northam Burrows.

Divining Rods

2010-06-07T14:45:00.003+01:00

Just completed! Here's the first picture of Divining Rods at Highgreen,Tarset, Northumberland. Lucy and I were commissioned to make this piece as part of VARC's 10th birthday celebrations (Visual Arts in Rural Communities). More pictures and more info to come...

Essential Nature: ArtWalking in North Devon

Find out about the AONB art walks at Northam Burrows.

The Sea Walk

2010-05-26T20:15:00.015+01:00

Today, a few of us went for a practice walk on Northam Burrows. The tide was right out, almost at the horizon, and there was a light breeze blowing towards the sea. We could not hear the sound of the waves at all - only the wind around our ears. Here are some lovely words by Janet Jopson, written during our walk.

Remembered thoughts of the sea walk

Mid grey pebbles

White fissures through

Sand bands of low key colour

Differing sea patterns in the wet sand

Dark course gravel, streaked through with gold where the sea slewed out

Rough rocks for defence, now rounded also by sea and wind

Heat rising from the sand

The tide way out, leaving a sand bar

Many, many shells

Some stuck and alive!

Sounds, skylark, sheep, barking, baa’s, my feet.

-------

Seen from inland

Dark ridge of rocks

Distant dunes

Blue silhouette ridge

Shipyard buildings

Radio masks

Terraced houses

Grass meadowland

Seated and sleeping sheep

Daisies

Far off cliffs

Sky

Sheep come near

A fly over my head

-------

Sounds inland

Skylarks trill

Answering baa’s

Human voices

The sudden stop of sound

Very distant hammering

Pidgeon

The sea’s constant sound

rustling

Janet Jopson

Essential Nature: ArtWalking in North Devon

Find out about the AONB art walks at Northam Burrows.

Seeing landscape through your eyes

2010-05-20T13:12:00.002+01:00

Dear Linda, I always get such a lot out of visiting places with you. I am looking forward to seeing this new landscape through your eyes and learning something about my own preconceptions in the process. I'm sure I'll come away with hundreds of photos as usual, but also with a fresh set of memories about a place that, from your eloquent description, sounds beautiful and varied.

See you soon, Lucy

Essential Nature: ArtWalking in North Devon

Find out about the AONB art walks at Northam Burrows.

Looking forward to June 12

2010-05-19T07:29:00.004+01:00

I can't wait to join the walk on June 12... You have made the site look as beautiful and enticing and seductive as I'm sure it is! Our absurdly busy lives need breathing space (at least, mine does!) so thanks for this opportunity, Linda.

I've always felt a bit of a tussle between the sea and the hills. I love Dartmoor and consider it my home, but the sea has always had a strong pull (what is that about anyway?) and that seems to be getting stronger. The wonderful thing about this part of the coast is that it seems to satisfy both needs.

If you want to know more about my work as an artist/producer visit my organisation's website. Richard Povall

Northam Burrows - AONB Art Walks

2010-05-15T17:11:00.170+01:00

Here is a fabulous picture I took of Northam Burrows a couple of weeks ago.

It looks out across Bideford Bay towards the headland at Westward Ho! Beyond that, very hazy, you can just see the outline of Hartland Point - a spectacular rocky place - great for walkers. The foreground shows part of the open beach, at the edge of beautiful areas of coastal grassland and sand dunes.

Here, in the fascinating coastal landscape of Northam Burrows is where I shall be running my series of Art Walks (or 'Walking Art Workshops') diring the month of June.

It lies within the North Devon AONB (Areas of Outstanding Natural Beauty). I am very grateful for the support of the AONB, enabling me to carry out this project!

And because of its special qualities, its intricate eco-systems and diverse plant and animal and bird life, the Burrows

is also a SSSI (Site of Special Scientific interest) and part of a Unesco Biosphere Reserve - the first of only two in the country.

I am so looking forward to meeting some of you, and sharing my working approach to landscape and my love of this place.

We will walk at a leisurlely pace through varied and inspirational surroundings, and you will be encouraged to respond in a deep, relaxed and spontaneous way - with drawing, photography, ephemeral artworks, actions, writing or other creative work.

Whether you are a complete beginner, an experienced artist, or just fancy trying your hand at creative activity - these walks are for you! It is an opportunity to have fun, to experiment a little, and gain experience at being and working with nature.

You will find booking details and full information about all the ArtWalks on the Essential Nature Website.

You can reach this blog from there too. It's a great place to share your news, photos, videos, stories... A place not just for news about the fascinating North Devon coast - but anything at all about your experience of landscape and art around the world.

Ask me to send you an invite to become a blog author on this blog!

More pictures...

Essential Nature: ArtWalking in North Devon

Find out about the AONB art walks at Northam Burrows.

The Burrows

2010-05-01T19:52:00.009+01:00

Meanwhile, back in Devon, there has been endless endless endless planning and preparation, and endless work on the computer… this is all I seem to be doing these days – that, and fretting about all the studying I should be doing for my MA Arts and Ecology. It was good to be at Highgreen, feeling I was doing what I call my ‘real’ work – even if only for a day or so.

However, I have been out on Northam Burrows a few times – and that was very nice. Getting photographed, and trying out routes and ideas for the proposed walks.

“Today, I walked at the top end of Burrows – past the salt marsh, mud flats, the grey sand hill and the pebble bank and rock pools just off the coast. I love the bubbling chirrup of the skylark high up following me - occasionally joined by the soft song of the curlew. Working out the content and the timing of the walks is tricky, and I am surprised how little I know the terrain. And I am alarmed at the distance back to the Burrows Centre from the sand hill – must find a short cut tomorrow.”

Tomorrow came and I hit a snag. Quite literally - for, trying to find a short cut across the Burrows, to save people’s legs, I found myself hopelessly trapped in a vast jungle of brambles, marram grass, nettles and goodness knows what else… for ONE HOUR. All the more frustrating because I could clearly see my destination with every turn. OK, so the brambles were not very high – but still nasty, plus they ruined my only decent pair of jeans.

Linda in the thicket.

So I am having to re-route my walks – and that means working out different activities and timing. This is fun to do - I am having many good new ideas for the workshops.

And I have heard that I have funding from the AONB. I am delighted to have this opportunity to realise the project. I hope I can pull it off.

Essential Nature: ArtWalking in North Devon

Find out about the AONB art walks at Northam Burrows.

Home and Away: Devon and Northumberland

2010-04-27T17:00:00.003+01:00

It was fun to spend the weekend up in Northumberland - in the far north east, north of Hadrian’s Wall indeed, right at the opposite end of the country. a site visit for a project I am doing with Lucy for VARC in June. VARC is Visual Arts in Rural Communities. I was Artist-in-Residence there for one year during 2005-6 in this remote and sparsely-populated area of Highgreen, Tarset. An unforgettable experience. I took the opportunity to drop down deeply into the landscape, exploring levels of silence I never knew existed (or had forgotten); working through concepts for earth-related work, and implementing some large-scale installations that I would never otherwise have had the time and space to complete. You can read all about my Highgreen experience on the residency page of my site: http://www.lindagordon.org.uk/ .

It is a great project we are on now: making work to celebrate VARC’s 10th anniversary during the first week of June. Unfortunately, it could not be at a much worse time for me, as it comes immediately before my AONB Art Walks begin here in Devon. No easy mobile or internet access at Highgreen either… Will just have to get my husband to deputise for me with the Walks preparations. He won’t mind…

Lucy and I spent a lot of time poking long sticks into mole-hills and photographing them. Here is a couple of Lucy’s Photoshop visualisations. What on earth are we doing, you might well ask… well, in due course you will see our finished installation on this blog. Patience…

Essential Nature: ArtWalking in North Devon

Find out about the AONB art walks at Northam Burrows.

Non-ecological Logic

2010-04-18T12:45:00.002+01:00

Non-ecological Logic, originally uploaded by mamzellenix.

This Flickr image by artist Mamzellenix sent a chill down my spine.
See the links above for further information on this ice-sculpture, and a fascinating range of Mamzellenix's short-lived works. Potent stuff indeed.

Westward Ho!

2010-04-04T13:37:00.001+01:00

Friday night at the holiday town of Westward Ho! North Devon. Stopped off to look at the sea on way to pub. Intrepid Gillie scans the horizon.

Essential Nature: ArtWalking in North Devon

Find out about these art walks at Westward Ho! and Northam Burrows.

Barefoot Running Through the Hills of South Devon

2010-03-28T16:06:00.006+01:00

I frequently run and explore the public foot paths around Totnes, which have gone rather muddy as of late. The cross-trainer running shoes that I wear normally encourage me to strike the ground with my heel first, causing me to slip and slide in a potentially dangerous fashion. One day, I simply took off my shoes and socks and continued to run through the mud—barefoot. It was invigorating!

Running barefoot surprises me. The sudden cool wet sensation on the bottom of my feet heightens my senses. The mud squeezing up between my toes reminds me of the paints I use in the studio. My body moves differently and is somehow more aware, improvising to terrain. I feel more animal. I think of the repeated, unmitigated connection my feet make with the land. The dynamics of the running experience are increased exponentially. Sense and perception bleed into one another, forming a richer and deeper notion of place. Instead of running across the landscape, I run with the landscape.

It has me wondering, how can I enliven my sensory experience in other parts of my everyday life? Increasing our sensitivity to our environment seems to be a positive thing to work toward.

Essential Nature: ArtWalking in North Devon
Find out about these art walks at Westward Ho! and Northam Burrows.

Wistman's Wood

2010-03-17T20:54:00.002Z

Our Arts and Ecology group spent a day on Dartmoor last week. Grimspound Bronze Age village and Wistman's Wood - a magical area of twisted, dwarfed trees, smothered with lichen, ferns and mosses, that had somehow managed to push their way up through the Dartmoor granite. We spent an hour in silence here - basking in the spring sunshine, relaxing.

Essential Nature: ArtWalking in North Devon

Find out about these great art walks at Westward Ho! and Northam Burrows.

The Woodland Trust

2010-02-26T17:07:00.023Z

There is nothing quite so refreshing, relaxing and re-invogorating as wandering about in a quiet stretch of English woodland. Even the thought of it spreads a ripple of tranquility through one's tired and computer-tensed body - even a picture, such as on the lovely package of material from the Woodland Trust, that dropped through my letter-box the other day. The large square envelope was smothered with sunlight filtering through beech leaves deep in the woods, speaking of peace. That's the impression it conjured up in my mind, anyway, as I reluctantly... tore it open. No matter - the booklet inside was covered with the same beautiful image, and many others inside.

Woodland at Muddiford, near Barnstaple: photo LGordon

I am so happy to have become a member of the Woodland Trust. Even in my position of having virtually no spare money to speak of, it is great to be able to help towards protecting and restoring ancient woods and trees, and creating new areas.

The Trust very much encourages us to get out and enjoy our woodland heritage, and to get involved with its projects. The pack contains a directory
of all the Woodland Trust woods in the UK, with maps and info, as well as a handy little leaf identification swatch book - very clutchable and fondlable - each page has clear and well-printed leaf images on the front, and factual information on the back.

And it looks waterproof too - must give it a trial dip in a convenient muddy puddle.

The Trust plants and dedicates a tree to every new member.
You can join on their website: The Woodland Trust.

Essential Nature: ArtWalking in North Devon
Find out about these great art walks
at Westward Ho! and Northam Burrows.

Tarka

2010-01-28T01:15:00.001Z

People tell me there are otters returning to this part of North Devon, though I have not been fortunate enough to see one myself. No longer brutally hunted with dogs and clubs, as in Henry Williamson's book 'Tarka the Otter' (first published 1927), they are still somewhat at the mercy of us humans: our roads and motorways often crossing the otters' traditional tracks and routes, with horrible results.

(photo:visitsacandaga.com)

"Tarka the Otter: His Joyful Water-Life and Death in the Two Rivers"... surely one of the most intense, evocative and closely observed novels about wildlife ever written.
I first read it as a child, many years ago, little dreaming that I would one day come to live in the Country of the Two Rivers. I felt as though I knew every inch of the terrain long before I came to live here, near the Burrows of North Devon. But I knew it, not from the perspective of a detached human being, but as an animal, a living creature - thanks to the deep and lasting impression this book made upon me.

Just listen to this, from the chapter on the Long Winter - a profound evocation of 'place' as well as the ferocity and power of natural forces:

"The otters lay up near a cattle shippen, among reeds with white feathery tops. A dull red sun, without heat or rays, moved over them, sinking slowly down the sky. For two days and two nights the frosty vapour lay over the Burrows, and then came a north windwhich poured like liquid glass from Exmoor and made all things distinct. The wind made whips of the dwarf willows, and hissed through clumps of the great sea-rushes. The spines of the marram grasses scratched wildly at the rushing air, which passed over the hollows where larks and linnets crouched with puffed feathers. Like a spirit freed by the sun's ruin and levelling all things before a new creation, the wind drove grains of sand against the legs and ruffled feathers of the little birds, as though it would breathe annihilation upon them, strip their frail bones of skin and flesh, and grind them until they became again that which was before the earth's old travail. Vainly the sharp and hard points of the marram grasses drew their circles on the sand: the Icicle Spirit was coming, and no terrestrial power could exorcise it."

The story of Tarka is a heroic tragedy in the real sense of the term - the story of a fine animal and his fierce struggle for survival. Williamson was concerned to portray only the truth, and spent seven years writing the book, continually revising it in his endeavours to be more and more truthful. For sure it contains interludes of death and brutality - but one is left at the end with a sense of joy and absolute wonder.