A first visit

A drive out to Coillte land, a Forest plantation near a reservoir called Farran woods in Cork County. A first visit  is unique.  Movement into the unknown. I cannot know what is going to be found. I have ideas, limitations of what I think (and know) is possible, but ultimately every turn around a corner has a newness absent when crossing the ground again.

Both stimulating and perplexing simultaneously because of the expectation of finding something that will add to this project, and the fact that beyond a general approach in the project, overall there is as yet no strategy evolving on this new site.

In essence I have no specific memory of this place, no identity is formed. The only references I have to go on are not spatially specific or temporally fixed, but associations built on responses to stimuli of similar engagements in other places. These are responded to in the making of work, but I am also influenced by the task I have set myself of finding differences in woodlands to the elements I have already encountered and made work about. The idea of difference is what motivated me to go to a forestry plantation, as opposed to the deciduous woodlands  I have already investigated.

Tree-felled #1 Version #1

 Walking into a new site, the first problem is when to start working? I never quite know, sometimes it's an obvious stimuli, some sign of change or a curious ambiguity that is a combination of my state of awareness and the elements in the environment simultaneously, intuitively, cohering. This time there was no sudden decision to make a work. Hence the perplexity I experienced. In this case the environment was so different to what I had encountered before. Harvesting of timber was evident all around, so much so that it was difficult to decide on a specific scene to start with. In the end I just walked off the path and made the work above, with little confidence of it's success. This was the beginning of a few works on the day that I had little confidence in, and was pleasantly surprised with the results;

Tree-felled # 3 Version #1

Tree-felled #6 version #1

 The activity of harvesting provides a new encounter, an obvious sign of the cultural use of woodland that has so far been absent from In flux. The fact that the activity is recent  lends a sense of recentness in the resulting works, even when, after the passage of time, it will no longer be a recent event in the landscape. This new event-ness will  still be, or be stilled, within the works. It will be interesting when I return what the effect of time-lapse of these scenes will have on this newness, will it be diminished (in the context of a body of work) or continue to resonate?

In addition to these tree-felled works (as opposed to the tree-fall series started  earlier) there were two works that I made because of the scenes resonances with earlier work at other sites. In this case it is not difference and newness at work, but similarity that was the motivating factor;

The right angles #1 Version #1

This work resonated with the earlier work;

Blue Land Version # 1

Both of these works offer a sense of ambiguity that leaves open questions for the viewer of a work, I know little of what has or is occurring in both these cases. In this sense the openness allows the viewer to become an interpretive participant in a similar way to my own perplexity on encountering such ambiguity in the field.

Further visits to the above will allow for change, but not resolution of the content of the scene. I see no reason to achieve this resolution. Knowing what is going on or has gone on with everything one encounters in environments is never the case. Understanding is subjective and the lack of understanding, or interpreting is a normal state, thereby it is an intention of mine, in utilising such ambiguities to bring this to the fore in the works, and to achieve some empathy with my audience.

The second work is less ambiguous;

Hut #1 Version #1

This reminded me of the series The cage (see earlier posting below). More obviously a sign of change, as the hut has collapsed. A further visit here is planned.

A strategy is emergent here, there are areas in this wood as yet unvisited or visited and not worked in. Returns to the scenes already encountered will be made for time-lapse work to be undertaken. I noticed two elements worth considering - but with techniques that offer a departure from the present method. Tree stumps and stones. Increasingly I am seeking way of advancing and enhancing this research with new approaches whilst simultaneously keeping within a structure, or strategy that forms In Flux.

Back to the cage

Quote from Field Notes

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.

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.