Entering the wood and a large mass of buzzing mosquitoes rise from disturbed vegetation extensively to feed on me . Time to get bitten again and very hot. I cover my skin, wearing a hood but have no gloves.
Slightly annoyed with myself for not pre-empting these encounters (I should know, see the beginning of this book) Not, though for most of my time dwelling in the wood, annoyed with the mosquitoes. Occasionally I kill one and blood, my blood, smears out across my skin. The risk and annoyance of the mossies adds a tension I know I must overcome. I am reminded of earlier visits here through the summer last year and know the hostility the environment naturally, haphazardly and un-premeditatedly subjects me to. I have to work at keeping calm - and fast, no time to stand, or sit and contemplate or engage in a relaxed way.
Here is a different dynamic. The environment pierces my skin. It is the third time I have photographed this now collapsing pheasant cage. I want a different work from my first piece to go with the more successful second piece, hopefully offering suitable difference. It took about half an hour to do the work, punctuated with occasional bites, deaths. they are not fast, distracting me mostly at moments of concentration. Fast work and forced intensity a definite interaction, a different interaction.
Finishing I move on - out of the wood back to the moto-x. I need a rest from predation.
This is the first time I have made a third work at the same site from roughly the same position, each piece relates to a different season;
The Cage #1 versions 1 to 3
Representing a sequence covering all seasons does not particularly interest me directly, the viewer will make this connection without having to be pointed to it. Tempting though it is.
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