Birth Research, Studio Peace, Sun Set
Spent the day researching for a birth workshop coming up and writing a proposal in the studio. Patrick took Naoise out to Manchester for the day, its my turn to look after him tomorrow. Seems as if there is no time to spend together as a family anymore. Everyone getting on with their own thing. Syd away for the weekend with his dad. Feel a need to carve out a life for me, starting to fill in the gaps, time changing and shifting.
A notification comes up on my phone. A huge earthquake measuring 7.9 in Nepal. Terrifying. I try not to think. I put it away. Always suffering, always natural disaster. I wish for a world where this was not the case.
Here I am in my comfortable, fortunate, predictable world. I must always count my blessings, not look inward too much. Try to reach out. Try to help others. Be grateful but critical, analytical, think hard, create as a response to the situation that I find myself in.
Always love research good to find new work, need to compile it all together, organise my knowledge so that I can draw upon it. Utilise what I know. Act. Don’t want to give away my knowledge. This is all I have, all I can hold. It is my work. It is my income, or potential income. Sometimes you have to hold back and protect ideas and thoughts. Hug them in, nurture ideas quietly. I don’t always want to share. I wish to hide and curl up and not look outwards. Inwards. Inside. Hold tender thoughts that are dear close.
I found this amazing film of a woman giving birth in a river. I will hold it here less I forget its location in the big wide world of the internet. It would be great to make some drawings or mono prints from watching it again and again.
Need to make some more monoprints about my own birth experiences. Still need to revisit this place, I have never successfully achieved a visual representation of how I felt, what happened, what birth actually is. Need to capture the raw energy, the pain, the pushing, the anxiety, the transformation, the joy. So much. Too much happening all at once. Profound yet absolutely ordinary and everyday and primitive and necessary.
I think of the lambs being born in the field. I think of all the women of the world. Mothers, daughter, sisters, friends. We are born. We are here. What do we do in-between. In-between birth and death. A journey, a place of travel, encounters, connections, conversations, experiences, held together by past memories and a place to push on towards.
Keep going pushing onwards.
In the evening I met a friend for one drink. I drank red she drank a cocktail. We listened to her friends band, they were cool and funky and we chatted and laughed. A woman in a gold wrap over top, jeans and brown high healed boots danced sensually to the music. She was confident and sure about herself and her body. She didn’t care that she was the only one dancing. She is totally immersed in her own movements and she is funky. I thought about filming her but its too intrusive. She reminded me of the Gillian Wearing film/performance Dancing in Peckam.
Walking back home. I notice that the beach hedge leaves have all burst open. I hold my arm outward and push my hand into the leaves. I walk along stroking the hedge and feeling the newness and softness of the fresh acid green beach leaves.