Saplings
There are things that have saved my life: platinum, cicadas, soil microbes, hands, party ring biscuits - a series of flows, care and relationships that held together just long enough to hold me together.
The drug doxorubicin is derived from a strain of soil bacteria, found in the late 1950’s, in the dirt outside of a 13th century castle.
Carboplatin is a chemotherapy drug derived from platinum.
Cicadas sing until death, a life well-loved is long enough.
An ecological understanding of the world allows us to identify ‘things’: A rock. A kiss. A cloud. An idea. A river. A before and after. And at the same time reminds us that all is fluid. Momentary. There is so much beyond our control. Beyond the reach of our lifespan. And there is sanctity in those moments. In the fleetingness of form. Our interaction with which, can change the course of everything.
Collaged lino prints with water colour, glitter and silver leaf additions on Nepalese paper. 21 x 31 inches.
Waiting Room
Waiting
Room is an illustrated ode to desire, tiny dreams and distraction;
illustrations of my un-purchased Ebay and Vestiaire watchlists compiled
in hospital waiting rooms.
I will be frequenting these places of
waiting for the foreseeable future. Whenever I have to be there an
uncomfortable mix of nervousness, dread, familiarity and security pulses
through me. I have learnt that the key to tolerating an anxious wait is
to find the perfect light hearted distraction, something that lets your
daydreams and emotions mingle without too much reason getting in the
way.
I show them simply to say that sometimes what sustains us is fleeting and deliciously frivolous.
All images dry-point etching and water colour on handmade paper. 4x6 inch. 2023
poems, words in progress, read for Babe Station Live.
And then the heat comes
A big fat moon,
midnight, surrender,
and your kid, dancing with threadworm,
demanding fucking marmite.
The thing is transcendence is local,
if you have to seek it,
look to the closest parts of the world.
Sleep drifts over her hot body
wave after wave
telling something of what arrives unbidden
matter, volume,
and something about memory
mercurial and bright
The thing is staying present
might break your heart.
and the smell of your parents house
and the wood pigeon in the garden
and the cuckoo clock going to the past
and the authentic silence
and the original self
The thing is the world is
richest and deepest
exactly where you are.
Always.
Cytology
The man dressed head to toe in black is stealing my bike in broad daylight with a tiny bolt cutter. It takes him longer than I think it should, though i’ve never done it myself, I do know about breaking things open. It is long enough for me, babe in arms, to wonder whilst watching him from my living room window. He cuts both locks with care. He has form. He has done this before. One clip here, one clip there. He works beneath the tree i’ve been studying from my window for months. The tree I was silently watching before he appeared in view and walked straight up to my bike. He doesn’t see me, and though i’m not hiding, I do feel like I might have disappeared. I don't try to stop him, not out of sadness or lack of care, though it might look that way. I’m thinking about trees, and about desire. About how i’d like to be unseen more; be more observer, less observed. Less a question, more canopy of elm. Is it possible to not always want something? Is it possible to just let the branches grow and the things I have no use for go?
And then the heat comes
A big fat moon,
midnight, surrender,
and your kid, dancing with threadworm,
demanding fucking marmite.
The thing is transcendence is local,
if you have to seek it,
look to the closest parts of the world.
Sleep drifts over her hot body
wave after wave
telling something of what arrives unbidden
matter, volume,
and something about memory
mercurial and bright
The thing is staying present
might break your heart.
and the smell of your parents house
and the wood pigeon in the garden
and the cuckoo clock going to the past
and the authentic silence
and the original self
The thing is the world is
richest and deepest
exactly where you are.
Always.