Opening night, late nights, shells and hairspray.......

I've used half a large can already, hairspray that is, and still my charcoal smudges. I wait upon further ideas fellow artists out there....
I gave a tub full of beautiful shells a bath a couple of nights ago; when they are dry I will begin to burrow through the layers of calcium carbonate to find another poem.

Last Tuesday evening (12th Feb) I attended the preview evening of 'Lightlines' to witness the two screens of photographs and poems parallelled to show and speak to the visitors.

Tom said: "We haven't asked photographers to illustrate poems or poets to respond to photographs. Instead, we all gathered at Trebah on a single day in late November, and particular areas of the garden were assigned to poets and photographers. The results are stunning: a version of Cornwall's most beautiful garden transformed through the photographers' visions and the poets' imaginations. One of the best things about teaching and studying at Falmouth is the opportunity to develop collaborations between different creative disciplines, and this is a great example."

Tom Scott had compiled all our poems into a A4 booklet - I'm still slightly overwhelmed and remained a quiet observer on the night being surrounded by experienced published poets. Ros was on one side (beautiful flowers and now fully bloomed, thank you fab friend), my husband on the other; so apart from winching at my audio attempts I was bursting with pride. It was very sad to hear about Rodger, I will remember him, eyes closed and intently listening to the poems read out that day.

 

Pondering over my presentation to the first years, I started to wonder how my brain was functioning with the constant hopping from academic study to writing creatively. Is it artistic to compose a qualitative survey? As another evening slipped on into the darkest recesses of the night I doubted that any poetry would ever come out of my curdled mind again after this endeavour; then I delved around, my curiosity wandering through a lecture on music, a book on a 'Wider Sky' and a diary entry or two from dearest Woolf and the wisps of words began again.

 

Six pieces done, my back to expose and a bowl of soil to set with PVA.... What wild ecstasy....