Temporal shifts and the role of memory

Quote from Field Notebook

I move away up the bank I've moved up and down before away from Shomere toward a tree-fall to do again and a messy tree scene. Vegetation resists me much more and I cannot see the uneven ground for brambles and a sticky plant I cannot remember the name of. I occasionally stumble.
Ist - Tree-fall #8 revisited. Last time I fragmented the image by proximity to the lens of branches, this time leaves.
2nd visit to the messy trees I literally stumbled upon on the way to "blue land". I nearly didn't make a work. This hesitancy is due to the ever present mosquitoes. I stop and they try to bite me. They do bite me. I set up in roughly the same position as before and shoot fast with a single focal point, as I did on the first occasion.

For the moment, I am considering these pieces as diptyches ;

Treefall #8 Versions #1&2

Untitled (rhizomatic) Versions #1&2


Each of the second versions of these works where made entirely from memory of the first pieces. I never take prints into the environment with me, as I see the role of memory, of remembering the scene itself as I saw it before and the subsequent works made as an important part of the process of making.

The aim is not to make each image as close to the previous version as possible; this is not an analysis of purely observable changes, but also an acknowledgement that memory is not precise, not entirely factual, but partly fictional. Partly by omission, but also because memory is not  location specific, but dependant on stimuli, other places and times are randomly evoked in the process of remembering and therefore connections are made to other places, as well as to the site inhabited at the time of remembering.
Memory is also a vital part of understanding specific environments, of the process of developing a connection to places over time through repeated visits during habitation. An important element in developing connections to environments that we inhabit is the observation of change. Change is constant, those of us who live life rooted for a long time in one environment are those that notice the changes keenly in their (kn)own place. The process of recognising change builds layers of memories specific to that place and forms the individual's understanding of the identity of the place they occupy. This is enforced by memories of other places, remembrances of differences and similarities that build a matrix of understanding that is multi- centred, not fixed to the specific. Knowing one place is therefore enhanced by knowledge of other places, through memory.

The use of Rhizomatic in the title of the second diptych alludes to the concept of the rhizomatic as put forward by Deleuze & Gittari in 1000 plateaus; Capitalism and schizophrenia and is not a reference to the biological meaning of Rhizome. In this case it alludes to sets of relationships between multiple elements that are capable of merging together from seemingly disparate sources. Deleuze & Gittari put this forward as an anti-genealogical, relational stance that is expanded on in the work of Tim Ingold in The perception of the environment; Essays on livelihood, dwelling and skill. Here Ingold uses the rhizomatic to investigate how our perception of the environment around us is strongly linked to our memories of past experiences, that are not necessarily connected to the environment being inhabited directly.

The second version of tree-fall #8 is in need of re-processing. As alluded to earlier, the question of how close I am to elements in the works is something I am working on. In this case the fragmented leaves in the centre of the work are too dominant, interrupting the coherence of the piece excessively. 

A Fox III

A recent return to site of the fox facilitated the opportunity for a time lapse revisit of Oh, a fox I thought. both growth and decay had occurred in the interim;

This work is distanced in comparison with the earlier work, perhaps appropriately leaving the viewer to imagine the extent of decay in the body of the fox. Further passage of time may allow for a return to a closer interpretation of the work. The full set of works, when complete, will probably not be viewed side by side. But paced through the wider body of work, for the viewer to return to the scene, temporally as they move through an exhibition, or turn the pages of a book.




Oh, a fox I thought Version #2

A fox II

Oh, a fox, I thought II
(scroll down to view the start of this dialogue) 

After processing the first image of the fox, and subsequently modifying it, I decided that there was scope for a better rendition. A return was a suitable response. To try again. This is different from a re-visit to make a time-lapse image of the scene, as I have done with other sites. 

So I headed back out. By placing the camera on an extended mono-pod and thrusting it up into the air I was able to make a composite image.

This is the result;

Oh, a fox, I thought version #2

A fox

Oh, a fox, I thought

Some time has past since I did this work, so this commentary has both the advantage and disadvantage of some time to reflect. The disadvantage is that I no longer feel connected to the experience, those fleeting and nuanced intensities of concentration and feeling that constitute the experiences in the field. The advantages of time passed are gestation and analysis. By leaving this and concentrating on the rest of life the work, the processes and experience are digested. Time and space have changed.
Checking my field notes, there is the following text written after the discovery of the fox;

Gunshot in the distance, on the other side of Shomere. Makes me wary - danger of being mistaken in my movements for prey, makes me extra vigilant, less confident or comfortable here edgy, just as I had been all day. Light is fading but I continue on looking for more possibilities.

A fresh cartridge and a scatter of feathers, no corpse. I do two more linear pieces crossing the edge of the flooded wood, the water/ground edge as it is now. Stillness. Now the wind. 

Across the edge #1

I give up and move back to the track out of the wood. Dark skies as I walk, glad to be on my way and I nearly miss the fox, lying on the side the track, Dead. Small, unmarked. There for a short time. Oh, a fox, I thought.

At these moments I know that these are composites of a set of circumstances;

1st- The Object, I recognize something that resonates with the In Flux project. 
The fox. - is a suitable subject/object.
A second object, behind is a tree-fall, this layers the image.
An earlier manifestation – the image of the corpse of a dog (is it a dog?) a temporal reminder, spatially different, but this time connected through object.

- Fox as both a cultural and environmental object/subject, also suitably multiple in possible audience responses.
- Time of day- dusk is suitable, matches the object.
 
I struggled with the light and some strange colour shifts occurred but succeeded.

Almost dark when I got back.

That was the end of a long text and a long day, as I remember it. This was my first visit to the fox. This is how the image turned out in the beginning;

Oh, a fox I thought Version  #1

 




































 Returning to the text from my field notes, it never occurred to me that the fox might of been shot by the gun in the distance. I think the fox had been dead long before. There was no sign of why it died.

The making of this and the subsequent fox images is a good example of how perception, engagement and experience in the environment works. It also raises some interesting questions about the cultural environment too.

Firstly in the text I start talking about subject / object, it is obvious at this stage I wasn't sure which term to use, but what is it I'm alluding to?

Object suggests objectivity and would offer a detached assessment of the fox, as a species, a biological entity (Vulpes vulpes, to give it it's Latin name). This generalizes the thing before me, rather than considering the animal itself as a recently deceased creature. My prior knowledge can and does augment this understanding. I know a certain amount of information from two distinctly different positions, learnt knowledge and previous experience, (encounters with other foxes and associations of triggered memories). At the point of the first encounter and the making of the first image this is all I have to go on, but further research alters my subsequent responses. A set of subsequent actions have been set in motion.

As I have suggested above, one aspect of learnt knowledge comes from science, from biology and ecology. A further learnt aspect, that I would describe as cultural (science is cultural of course, but it is always an attempt, based on facts and evidence, to create a trans-cultural position, or a communicable truth). The scientific knowledge I bring to this encounter is limited to my own understandings, and different from the understandings of others. There is, therefore, no reason for me to explain what I know, in that this is not available in the subsequent works.

When I encountered the fox, I did not consider it in a scientific way, as an object of study, primarily my response was twofold, the anticipatory excitement of finding something to make work about and a sadness, a melancholy, experienced on encountering the corpse,of a life cut short, the life of a young fox, recognised as an individual. The object of interest, then, is more a subject.

When considered as a subject, in this case it is the subject of a photograph, or the subject of interest as what I am drawn to as I work in the environment, I move from a state of simultaneous perception, a state in which I am taking in all the stimuli of my senses simultaneously, wholly as a constant temporal experience of the entire environment as I encounter it, to concentrating on the subject of interest. In this project I then have to work out how I want to make a composite image of the scene, as a piece of work. To do this I have to work back toward simultaneous perception, to observing the scene in front of me as an environment including my subject of interest. As my field notes above state, there is a second subject included in the scene, a tree-fall, the subject of many other works in this project. So from only having one subject there are now two, both of which indicate changes to the land as I continue to encounter it. Part of the decision making process that is going on is about how to include this in the composite image. The fox, as the main subject is at my feet and easily included, but I must proceed to position myself (and therefore the camera) in a position that will include the tree-fall. 

There is a tension between the two elements in the as yet unformed composite image. They vie for my attention at the expense of all the other elements of the scene. The fox is the strongest element. The one that elicits a strong response in me,  the tree-fall is something I consider useful as a potential reference to other works in the project. A thematic repetition, different from temporal repetition, but repetition none the less.

Once in position, then the extent of compositing is my next consideration, What are the edges of the image? As I look there are no edges to what I see, I only need to move my eyes, my head or my whole body to broaden my visual perception of the scene. This is also continuous, not static, in the way that photography seems to still time. I start the compositing with an idea of the scope of the scene to be depicted, but I rarely find that the computations that follow in post-processing the image correspond to how I see it in the scene, but this is hardly ever exact.. Repeated practice has meant that I have more control of this than I had in the past with earlier images. Additionally, even if I have established theoretical boundaries to the compositing process I do often decide to extend the edges, either on the basis of further interesting content lying just outside the conceived edge, or because I am not certain that I have captured enough shots to form the edge, and hence over compensate.

In the case above, I was unhappy with the aspect ratio of the result, not expecting it to be so high in relation to it's width, I decided to crop the image;

Oh, a fox, I thought Version #1 (cropped version)

I also stretched the image downwards to take away some of the distortion to the body of the fox, a result of post-processing. 

More on the fox in my next posting.

Out in snow

Extract from my Field Notes ;

"January 2013                                                                                                                 Allfield

DE - DE - DE

DE - DE - DE

DE - DE - DE

  .  .  . 

    (Like morse)

ON WOOD

=

Lesser spotted woodpecker

(Heard and not seen)

I venture out for the first time this year, late January. Snow diminishes, water and temperature rise.
Too hot in all my clothes walking to site, out, escaping into the light. sunlight, occasionally, nearly, for the first time this month, year.
I wade through the flooded road halfway up my wellies. Fields are white, dripping, Slush and ice, water, mud; brown, black,white. I exile myself from indoors and the screen. Breathe, heat even sweat. Sound of the soft compaction on the remaindered snow, off the road into the wet wood, green emerges, shoots show through mushed leaves, green on brown. Life awakes defying gravity. The ground is soft and flattened, the wood, though wet, is easy to move through. Without wellingtons I would not venture, as I move the water is rising, snow diminishing.
I consider one tree-fall, near Shomere, I've seen it before, never imaged it. Maybe on my way back - perhaps I always think this here, keener to get to somewhere I am going although I am not sure where that sums up to be. I intuit to a point of satisfaction. Far enough in to start. I intend to make one work and return. Before, and sometimes still, I venture to push all effort beyond my limits of pleasantness. Sometimes fruitfully, but not on this occasion.
Time compacts again as I see the way to where I was last time here. Flashes of memory and remembered images. Memories embody movement and effort as well as vision. The trigger is the way up I came down. I could meet myself here.
I turn deeper into the marshy woodland, off human paths to the fox and badger trail - no human prints here. The trail is obstructed only above the height of the mammals that nocturnally traverse them. They will know I've been here, smell my alien scent and manufactured belongings. Considering, looking, moving, stopping, listening. DE - DE - DE         DE - DE - DE. A rustle above. the squirrels are still in the ivy here. The camera is still on my back. the drips enhance my spatial awareness loud and quiet to imperceptibility. Near drops loud.
Familiar sites are passed on. Then I know. I've been here before and suddenly it fits. Another tree-fall, out in the water. Instantly, nearly, perhaps I simultaneously see the object and remember the image I made hear last, subtracting all the other potentials and the environment to inhabit this space. One I have constructed before.

Tree-fall #5 Version #1

I relate much quicker, less to take in, revel and revealing change.

The water is higher (and rising). Frozen slush breaks as I immerse my foot, halfway up the boot. I move in and think, not the same position. Initially I think it is too hard to get to, the water too deep. Potential of cold not heat now. I move back to the bank put down my bag and the rods. Take off my coat (will it rain?)

I  decide to pause


Then I place the ranging rod near the tree-bowl, not like before. Out into the water. Why is the best position often mediated by my overall (physical, not conceptual) approach? I decide the position I reach in the water, close to my initial look is the one. Difference is good. This is not the same place as it was the last time I was here, so I need to emphasise this in my work. I push the extended tripod down into the mud below the ice and water and work. Difference is what I hope for, with inevitably recognisable similarity. I vary my position as my feet get colder. Three pairs of socks are nearly not enough. At the end I remove the camera from the tripod and shoot around the edges of my composite environment hoping that more kind errors will occur in processing.

 It's done. Unlike the Canine bones image, I do not have a transformative experience ( in terms of my awareness of the space) whilst in the process of making, rather this began when I entered my own comfortable space here, The reciprocal place I know much better than the bones site ( I guess I'll never go there again).
The inhabiting process is  transformative because I desire it more. I realise I need this for my well being. Therapeutic.









Having done, do I make more? Bodily not cold (my feet have warmed since leaving the water). Also not too tired. Hunger makes me desire leaving.
I look at the ground and up to the canopy above and I am reminded of images made by geographer Oliver Rackman in Ancient Woodland: Its History, Vegetation and Uses in England, 2003. He made circular images looking up into the canopy to record change. I also think of unsuccessful composites made in the summer of the ground and think also of long images made in Field -Walk that were successful,

Long Skull from Field Walk

 I decide to amalgamate these things.

THESE THINGS;

1. Immediate perception and a desire to make work.
2. A reference to work by someone else.
3. A re-working of work of my own.

As I walk out of the wood I  make a series of three views; Ground, Horizontal and Canopy, at various spots. I play loosely, thinking of perception + object - environment, trying not to make this transition but inevitably making decisions - not snow - running water yes! - add a tree-fall - use a ranging rod. A constant decision here, yes, no, not close to the holly, yes looking into the chilled water.

I move out back to the trail home. Finally I do stop and photograph the tree-fall near Shomere, but badly - satisfied that I have done enough today.

The fields have turned green as I exit the woods. Still patched by white and brown. I struggle through the flood using the ranging rods to look for shallow ground, slowly moving on tiptoe, so as not to allow the wave, so near the top of my boots, from washing over. Ahead three dogs, Jess, Kasha and Granville wag in anticipation and my wife wishes she had her camera. Still waters rising, but I made it without spilling down the inside of my boots."

The resulting image;

Tree-fall #5 Version #2

Here are a two results of experiments of perceptive perspective as described above;

 What role this approach plays in this project is yet to be resolved.
  

 
 

Photographing texts - text in Image

A recent image has brought up some questions about the content of my works and the content of the entire body of work;

No Development

The Return

Lying in my files there are a number of images that are waiting to be processed, or re-processed and added to In Flux. Each image can take between two hours and three days work to bring to fruition in a combination of manual and automated digital processes, hence they take much more time to construct than they do to gather (I would spend up to two hours making a single work on site). The role, or effects, of these pauses in the working processes are increasingly becoming a source of interest in this project, as each temporal aspect is analyzed it is becoming apparent that many different states of awareness and intensity come into play in the making of works.

The most obvious temporal gap is that between visits to a site. In the interim I have almost always made the work I am about to remake and when I return do not  feel that I am revisiting old ground, but that the temporal shift makes the space a different space in time. This difference shapes the repeated works in In Flux. The processing of work after a visit fixes the result in my memory. A memory I use to make the new works on subsequent visits.

The first visit

I have found that often it is the first visit I make, with the intention of making work, that often achieves strong pieces. This is partially as a result of the new potentials encountered adding new elements and broadening the content of the body of work. I am also aware that the experience of a new place is perceptually novel. I have open perceptual expectations and a higher degree of anticipation that is no longer as intense on the second, or third visit. By visiting a new site I am inducing a heightened awareness and an active effort to seek out something of interest is easier to maintain in the unknown space.

Blue Land #1 Version #1

 This is the piece that typifies a successful work made on a first encounter. On the same visit I made a further work;

Earthwork #1

Initially, at least, I was not satisfied with this piece and decided to do it again on my next visit. Subsequent re-working from the original files may of resolved this, but the experiences on the later visits prompted this re-working.

The second visit

I have known places to be hostile on a second visit, as this one was when in another season I was attacked by mosquitoes and bitten 14 times.The effort to make work in those circumstances was doomed to failure. In the end the works could not be processed satisfactorily - largely due to being attacked persistently, I could not concentrate or get in the right mindset, but I definitely felt a mind, body and environment connection and was painfully reminded that connections to land are not always pleasant.  I learnt to not go against the experiences I was having in an environment on that occasion. Hence the second visit was valuable, even if no work was successful.

The third visit

The beginning of the autumn saw the end of clouds of mosquitoes and the site allowed me back.  Only now have I managed to process it from the archive. In book or exhibition these images would not be displayed on the same page or side by side. Rather I would guide the viewer to use his or her memory, or re-look at the images in their locations, mirroring my temporal and spatial experiences of the site in the sites of discourse.

Blue Land #1 Version #2

In the case of Blue Land #1, the third visit yielded a reasonable second rendition of the scene, building on what went on before, but again, Earthwork #1 was not successful. I have subsequently left this effort for the moment, allow further time to resolve this, or to abandon the attempt in the context of the overall work.

Over time and with successive visits better knowledge and experience begins to build on what went on before. To encounter again builds up layers of memory. Remembering past encounters and particularly actions helps to build a complex matrix of movements around a site, I cross or repeat earlier walks along animal paths or through dense vegetation. Access changes with seasonal change and climatic change, in the case of this site I have learnt to abandon hopes of access through the summer months due to the high density of mosquitoes  and have had further difficulties, or altered intentions, due to flooding. 

By re-visiting sites a matrix of spots of interest is built upon, I may pass one spot on the way to another, contemplate it and leave it for another time to make a work. These spots are the sites of action in a location, they offer elements to head to, as well as providing structure to the work. They are play a key role in the formation of my connection to and understanding of the site as a place. It is a process of place making for me, the individual involved.