the skies are empty. blue and empty (because winds are coming from the east). in the evening the emptiness turns red-orangy-- and a soft pale ochre; the wind dies down at the end of the day, and there's smog in the air. it's been quite warm, the past few days. too warm to go for walks, i miss them. i'm not doing very well. i barely sleep, and i eat because i must because this weather takes my appetite from me. i read. but i've only one chapter left and then there's nothing. i've ordered a few books but they won't be here today. maybe tomorrow.
the sea is on my mind. i wish i lived closer by the sea. it's the only thing i can think about. it's like a mantra, but not a good one. i'm too tired.
*
i've been reading books by irish authors: thin places by kerri ní dochartaigh, and two books written by easkey britton: salt water in the blood and ebb & flow.
thin places is heavy. it's about how nature, the natural world, our world, can help us save ourselves. and it's about trauma; kerri ní dochartaigh went through a lot. she was born during ‘the troubles’. nobody knew how to deal with what was experienced daily, by many.
i could not deal with it when i first started it. it's quite confrontational.
it still feels heavy. but her work was mentioned by earskey britton in one (or two) of her books and i picked it up again; i finished it yesterday. i'm not sure how i feel about it. it is beautifully written but it's also a bit much: there's a constant stepping-back going on; a neverending push to find better wording for what she wants to communicate. and i understand that, i think i understand why it is happening; but for me it is a bit much: i feel things get lost because of the overwhelming amount of words she conjures up.
but, again, i get it: it is astonishing she was able to do that, it is quite an achievement to put so much of yourself in a book, with words on pages -- and i don't mean to say that she should have made this differently -- i wonder if i'm still dealing with the confrontational part of my relationship with this book.
it is a beautiful book.
at the moment i like it a lot for the way the writer experiences nature; how she feels about the natural world. it is just like i experience nature. (i actually just had a dragonfly come into this little space. the doors are open (i should close them, the day is getting hotter), there's a sound dragonflies make, a dry sound, a kind of ticking that remind me of something but i don't know what it is -- anyway, dragonflies play a particular role in thin places.)
i also like the title, a lot. it's what drew me to it.
the folklore of almost every culture holds room for these liminal spaces -- those in-between places -- not to be found on any map. are these thin places spaces where we can more easily hear the land, the earth, talking ot us? or are they places in which we are able to feel more freely our own inner selves? (p.53)
*
easkey brittons books talk about the sea. i was looking for books about the sea because i was (and still am) experiencing zeewee (this dutch word is related to heimwee, which talks of a deep longing for home, but it's a wee (longing) for zee (sea/ the ocean)) -- and then a youtuber i'm following, orla stevens, uploaded a new video, about a snorkelling artist residency she did:
she mentions easkey brittons book. i ordered it immediately. i've devoured both. i wish there was more. zeewee.
shall i be completely honest?
the sound of the sea is making me cry, lately.
there are things going on. i'm trying to find a way to live nearer to the sea. i'd also like to do work i actually like.
*
i'm still drawing. skies, but recently a horizon has appeared. also something landcape-y; but mostly because of the movement i saw: lines. it's still lines i'm interested in.
a few days after i started these new kind of drawings, i stumbled upon the work of annemieke harkema. i'm loving her book natuur getekend. it's incredibly inspirational but i'm a little bit afraid of how much my work is related to her work; which feels really weird. because up until a week ago i didn't know about her. and my cloud sketches started to appear nine months back.
i'm a bit worried. confused. not sure about what. it's not like i will suddenly see things differently; because my drawings are all about what i see, and i think that is the case for annemieke harkema as well. and we all see different things; make different marks.
i think it feels like we see the same thing(s). but i'm sure even if we do, which probably isn't even true, we'd still make very different work.
i really want to draw. but there's not a cloud to be seen. drawing outside has been my favourite way of working. i need the clouds to return.
