All posts by Annette Arlander

artist

Body on the Rocks – Video Works


The Telegraph on Harakka Island 10–15 September 2019 12 to 5 pm
Welcome to the opening Monday 9 September at 6 pm
 
Body on the Rocks (remix) 2016, HD 16:9 (16 min. 7 sec)
Performed for camera on tripod at the beach in Falmouth, Cornwall on Sunday morning 24 July 2016.
Body with a Corpse 2016, HD 16:9 (11 min.)
Performed form camera on tripod on a beach south of Khao Lak, on 27.12.2016.
Sitting with a Corpse 2016, HD 16:9 (5 min 40 sec)
Performed form camera on tripod on a beach south of Khao Lak, on 31.12.2016.
 
 

Body on the Rocks – videoteoksia


Harakan lennätin 10–15.9. 2019 klo 12–17
Tervetuloa avajaisiin maanantaina 9.9. klo 18
 
Body on the Rocks (remix) 2016, HD 16:9 (16 min. 7 sec)
Esitetty kameralle jalustalla, rannalla Falmouthissa, Cornwallissa sunnuntaiaamuna 24.7. 2016.
Body with a Corpse 2016, HD 16:9 (11 min.)
Esitetty kameralle jalustalla, rannalla Khao Lakin eteläpuolella 27.12.2016.
Sitting with a Corpse 2016, HD 16:9 (5 min 40 sec)
Esitetty kameralle jalustalla, rannalla Khao Lakin eteläpuolella 31.12.2016.
 
 

Body on the Rocks – videoarbeten


Telegrafen på Stora Räntan 10–15.9. 2019 kl. 12–17
Välkommen på vernissage måndagen 9.9. kl. 18
 
Body on the Rocks (remix) 2016, HD 16:9 (16 min. 7 sec)
Uppförd för kamera på stativ, på stranden i Falmouth, Cornwall söndag morgonen 24.7.2016.
Body with a Corpse 2016, HD 16:9 (11 min.)
Uppförd för kamera på stativ, på stranden söder om Khao lak 27.12.2016.
Sitting with a Corpse 2016, HD 16:9 (5 min 40 sec)
Uppförd för kamera på stativ, på stranden söder om Khao lak 31.12.2016.
 
 
 

A Day with a Juniper


An uncensored transcript of my notes of a day with a juniper on Utö, including video stills from the first and last sessions:
 
Utö 3 August 2019 at 7 am
Looking for a Juniper to share the day with I was hopping on the cliff with the “majstång”, the now dried-up midsummer decoration, and found the perfect companion down by the shore, a small, slightly rounded shrub that was clearly distinguished from the carpet-like patches, and with a piece of plain rock next to it. The sun was already high up in the sky, in the north-east, where the wind was blowing from. I placed my camera on a tripod, left it relatively low, so it would be more stable, and went to sit by the juniper. I forgot to put in the microphone cord, I noticed later. I had an impulse to take the small juniper “by the hand”, to hold on to its stem, so I did that, and sat there for a while. And then, as a reminiscence from a previous day with a spruce up in the north, I lay down on the rock and lift my feet up, as to try out a more vegetal mode of being for a moment…
 

 

 
8 am, a second session; now I know what I am doing and feel like relaxing into the day. The wind feels cold – I wonder how the winter storms feel like! This is the warmest time of the year, and I feel like looking for shelter… The juniper grows so low along the cliff exactly to mitigate the effects of the wind. There are some spider webs in between its branches – amazing that the web does not break. Most of the vegetation is low, the mosses and the various forms of lichen cling to the ground; the small ferns are bending in the wind, only the occasional grasses grow a little higher, and they move freely in the wind. – The sun is coming out from behind the clouds and it immediately feels warmer…
 
9 am, the sun is warming, despite the wind. I took a walk to the southern part of the island – extraordinary and beautiful, flat land with rocks and heather blooming… I came back to sit with the juniper in the wind, and saw the first sailing boat head out from the guest harbour, and then a small motor boat came over from the neighbouring island, across the “strait”. I sat with the juniper and closed my eyes – and lost track of time. Thus, this session was a few minutes longer. And I came down to the bench by the road to make these notes, to have at least partly some shelter from the wind. Now most of the clouds have disappeared and the sky is blue – a great day ahead, it seems…
 
10 am, the day has only begun, and I have already visited or seen most of the important places on the island – the shop, the cafeteria, the entrance to the military area, the lighthouse, the rubbish storage centre, the museum, the heritage house, the visitors’ harbour, and the hotel and the restaurant, of course. I have not been up in the lighthouse, though. – In the shop I bought myself a tourist cap, as a souvenir and as sun protection. The sun burns my head through my thin hair even if the wind feels cool… so now I am protected. I do not wear the cap while I sit with the juniper, though, it is only for the walks across the island.
 
11 am. Clouds again, plenty of them, some grey, but most of them light and fluffy. I noticed the moss was torn next to the juniper where I sit. How little is needed to disturb and destroy! The moss is dry, and breaks easily, even if I try to be light and careful. But, of course I am huge and heavy, clumsy, too. This time I walked to the small church or chapel between the sessions, and went up to the hill on the eastern side – there, too, is a sign warning of military area. I did not see any grave yard, there is supposed to be one, and I assumed it would be near the chapel, but never mind. I should relax and focus on the juniper instead of running around like a nervous tourist. But, I am a nervous tourist, after all…
 
Noon, the sun is almost warm, people are out on the small lane that passes the harbour. I found the graveyard finally, it is in the middle of the island, small and pretty. And past it a path leads to the southern shore, which looked lovely and peaceful – but then I noticed the remains of a bunker on the shore. Human activity, at its worst, is present everywhere. But the “basic” quality of the landscape is fascinating, regardless… I looked at the graves and wondered if this would be a good place to rest – but then I would have to spend ten or twenty years here, first, to motivate the choice of resting place. And that could be a nice way to retire, why not. But how to find a small cabin that would be free to rent (or buy) in this place – that would be quite a challenge. Perhaps one day with a juniper is enough – or then another day some other time, to begin with…
 
1 pm, the light is strong, now coming from the right, south, when I sit with the juniper, facing east (I suppose). For some reason lying on my back with feet up is not especially comfortable. On the contrary, it feels like I have to strain my muscles to keep the position, and I am slightly irritated that I did not check which way would have been best visually. But I am really happy with the place I chose, and also the juniper that somehow “volunteered” to be my partner. Well, to be honest, I did not ask for its consent, nor did I wait for its reaction or for any sign from it that I could feel or imagine. But I take the sudden impulse to take hold of its stem as a sign of sorts… and when I sit there I do not sense any hostility from its side, nor any particular affection either, I must say… But what can you expect from a juniper? Not being stingy or grumpy is already a lot, I think…
 
2 pm, afternoon, warm and relaxed atmosphere, after lunch -feeling all over the place, or so it seems. The lunch at the hotel was nice and simple – fish soup and pancakes – and I feel like an intern in a hospital or school or whatever, with a fixed routine. Before sitting with the juniper, I took a look at the lichen around me, and there were plenty of variety – yellow, white, grey, greenish, black… from small almost imperceptible “stains” on the rock to big leaves, dry and brittle moving in the wind. As so often happens, everything else around it, not the juniper, becomes very interesting. And there are so many other junipers as well, probably relations to my friend, which nevertheless seems rather old. I saw some really old ones – I assume because of the size of their stems – in the middle of the island, but even they were relatively low and sturdy – of course. I am past half way in my endeavour now, I guess. If I will continue until 9 pm, this was the “middle session”, and why wouldn’t I? What else would be more important, here now, today…
 
3 pm, windy… It seems like the wind stays the same, but sometimes it simply feels stronger. Now I found the path to the southwestern tip of the island – magic! There was a weird sculpture with a fallen cross and a star, but also a lot of bunkers or underground constructions that I did not enter… The view from the tip was amazing, with open sea everywhere, with only small rocks here and there. That area would be my favourite, if I would come here for a longer time. There was an enormous boulder, and a bench attached to it’s eastern side, as if made for a morning meditation. There was also a small cabin, almost like an ice-cream “kiosk”, but very much abandoned. I wonder what it had been. Now there was a small colour study on one of its walls… The boulder and the bench would be enough, something nice could be done there… or then on the road that runs through the area. I almost felt like dragging some toy on wheels behind me on the path…
 
4 pm, the sun no longer warms as much as before; the wind feels more chilly, it has turned from north-east to north, or north to north-west, slightly. I can see my shadow now on the rocks, but probably the camera will not. At some point the camera’s shadow might become visible in the image; that would be stupid. But, there is nothing I can do about that now. I hope the wind will not grow too strong, overturning the tripod. I wonder why the juniper does not have any berries – there were junipers on the rocks with plenty of berries on the other side. Perhaps it is a male, despite its form? Or then berries is not a luxury you can afford every year. If I remember correctly, it takes two years for juniper berries to ripen, the first year they are green, and blue only the following year. A little further up, where I am sitting now, the junipers on the rocks have green berries… hm…
 
5 pm, yes, the wind is increasing, now it is 9 m/s according to the weather report on my phone, and will be strong until 8 pm or more. This is not a strong wind for the outer archipelago, of course, but I am concerned about my camera. The tripod is quite robust, but to be on the safe side I picked a rather heavy (1-2 kg) rock and placed it in my camera bag, hanging from the tripod near the ground, to put the centre of weight as low as possible. The microphone with its wind protection is almost like a small sail, catching the wind, but hopefully the rock in the bag will outweigh that… there are four more sessions to go, and then I am done…
 
6 pm, wind, wind, wind! I found a spot on the cliffs with a little protection to write, but the wind gets everywhere… it is afternoon, still, the sun is high, but the evening is approaching, the shadows grow. The boat from Nagu arrived with new people, walking around, looking confused. After one day on the island I feel almost at home. But I am tired of this repetition, I have to admit. – It is nothing against you, dear juniper, I really appreciate your hospitality and patience, but I am tired of this wind, which gets into my bones. I wonder how you manage to get used to it, or do you? Without some kind of habituation, you would not survive, I suppose. And of course, with a different sense of time there might be more variation, with the wind blowing one day from the north and then next week from the south west and so on… I still admire your patience, I must say!
 
7 pm, wind, wind, wind! I guess I could stop here, because I started at 7 am, but there is a lot of light, so why stop now? Two more sessions, ideally. – I guess I am going to remember you as my silent companion, dear juniper. I hope you look good in the images, that we look good together. Now it is time for dinner, and rest assured that I will remember you while eating. I know everything I eat, every single item, is somehow originally produced by you or other types of vegetation that has made this world habitable for all other creatures, well, at least animals. Being able to capture the energy of the sun into something other creatures can digest is a marvellous skill, so congratulations for that, and thank you!
 
8 pm, evening shadows. Now the wind is so chilly that I came indoors to write these notes. The camera shadow is visible in the image, I’m afraid. But perhaps that’s ok, actually, revealing the technology at the end. This was not the end, but the next to last session. The shadow will be even longer one hour from now… It is funny to feel so cold when this is the warmest time of the year. You are standing or sitting out there on the cliff in the wind not only through the night but through the whole winter. And unlike many grasses you do not wither, nor do you shed your leaves like alders, ashes and rowans, for instance, but keep your needles green. That is quite amazing, really. But animals have their furs, too. So, something of a thermostat takes care that you don’t freeze completely, I suppose. And there on the rock you cannot really hide in the ground or under a snow cover either… Well, I just have to face it, I don’t understand how you do it…
 
9 pm, the last session. The sun is still up, but partly behind the clouds; the long shadows almost disappear. Now I’m shivering when sitting next to you, trying to breathe slowly. This is the end of our day together, and I have to admit that I am relieved that it is now over. I will hope all the best for you and wish you the best of luck for the coming winter and the years to come. And I do hope that I did not disturb you too much. I noticed the spider web that survived the wind all afternoon was now gone. There is always a point when enough is enough and it is hard to know in advance. My point for calling it a day has come now. For you there might be many, many years more to come – at least I hope so. Goodbye for now!
 

 

 
The following morning, 9 am, I went to visit the juniper for a last time – without the witnessing camera – just to say goodbye. I noticed with delight that a new spider web was already in place to compensate for the one torn by the wind yesterday. I had an impulse to take a tiny branch of the juniper and see if I could make it grow at home. I tried to break it carefully, but managed to create a long white wound in the bark, and suddenly realized I was behaving like a lunatic, hurting my friend due to my misplaced possessiveness. Deeply ashamed I pressed the small twig into the moss and hoped that it might develop some roots there, and left quickly. – Relationships with anything have never been my forte…
 
 
 
 
 

Utflykt till Utö


Nu blir det äntligen av: utfärden till Utö som jag sett fram emot redan länge. Det blir en weekend med två nätter på vandrarhem där, det vill säga en hel dag på plats. Min avsikt är att hitta en lågt växande enrisbuske eller något liknande och sitta med den varje timme från morgon till kväll, i bästa fall från 8 till 8 eller 9 till 9. Enrisbusken kommer av ett minne – jag har nämligen varit på Utö en gång förut, som barn, eller skolelev, i slutet på 60-talet eller början på 70-talet. Det skedde en stor oljeolycka på Östersjön då, och min klasskamrat Fredrik ”Mulle” Donner organiserade en utflykt med isbrytare ut till Utö för att vi skulle tvätta oljiga ejdrar med schampo. Jag minns att jag var med och tvättade en stackars fågel, och är inte ens helt säker på att den slutligen klarade sig. Vi sov i ett runt armétält, det minns jag, och så minns jag de lågvuxna enrisbuskarna som gjorde terrängen svår att ta sig igenom. Kanske jag inte sett sådana förut, eller åtminstone inte i så stora mängder. De stannade i mitt minne i varje fall. Och nu vill jag se ifall några finns kvar…
 
Nåväl, det skulle ju finnas lågt växande enrisbuskar i skärgården mycket närmare, men Utö är ju intressant på många andra sätt. Jag ansökte om bildkonstakademins residens där, men räknades inte medarbetare så min ansökan beaktades inte. Så jag får lov att ta mig dit på egen hand. – Ifall det verkar fascinerande kan jag ju återkomma när det inte är högsäsong. Men jag hoppas i varje fall på en vilsam dag tillsammans med enris på klipporna. Enligt väderleksprognosen blir det hård vind, men det skall väl gå vägen när man är på land. Jag hoppas det inte blåser för mycket ikväll eller på söndagen när jag sitter på m/s Eivor.
 
Just nu sitter jag i cafét på den gamla busstationen i Åbo, i väntan på bussen som skall ta mig till Nagu. Bakom mig har jag en promenad till järnvägsstationen i Helsingfors, en tågresa från Helsingfors till Åbo och så en promenad från järnvägsstationen här till busstationen. Återstår buss till Nagu, Pärnäs, sedan båt till Utö och promenad till hotellet där för nycklarna strax innan midnatt. Resan tar nästan en hel dag. Det hade varit bekvämare att åka ut på torsdagen då båten går klockan 13. Men det tänkte jag inte på, eller snarare kunde jag inte göra det, för jag bokade rummet på torsdagen. Men nu är jag alltså på väg!
 
Och nu sitter jag på båten, i Pärnäs, och i god tid, och väntar på avgång. Det blir en lång färd, men när jag tittade på kartan insåg jag, att Utö egentligen inte är så väldigt mycket längre ute till havs än Kökar, och närmare fastlandet. Sinnebilden av ett litet skär långt ute i mitten av Östersjön är alltså inte helt riktig. Det finns små skär i närheten, åtminstone enligt kartan. Vi kommer fram så sent att det kommer att vara mörkt, men flera timmar får jag njuta av skärgården innan dess….
 
Solen går ner, men Utö fyr syns redan, vi är snart framme. Och trots att det är öppet hav finns det skär och kobbar inom synhåll åt alla håll – inte alls så skrämmande som jag väntat mig, kanske för att det inte är helt mörkt ännu… men spännande!
 
Följande dag, lördagen den 3 augusti, på Utö, har jag redan hållit på och filmat mina besök hos en liten enrisbuske här på backen nära havshotellet en gång i timmen sedan klockan sju i morse, och dessutom vandrat runt på alla tänkbara stigar i den här bebodda delen av ön. Nu sitter jag på mitt lilla rum i vandrarhemmet och drar andan innan nästa session, efter att ha varit utomhus hela förmiddagen. Fascinerande att försöka utsätta sig för vädret en aning, även om jag ränt runt istället för att hålla mig till enrisbusken som jag tänkt mig. Men det är en lång dag kvar ännu… här är en bild av backen då jag startade i morse:
 

 
Och här är backen innan den sista bilden, klockan nio på kvällen.
 

 
En sista närbild av enrisbusken följande morgon, farväl Utö!
 

 

Kertausharjoituksia


Osana tutkimushanketta How to do things with performance? (HTDTWP) eli Miten tehdä asioita esityksellä, olen palannut Animal Years videosarjan kuvauspaikoille Harakan saarella. Tänään vuorossa oli kataja, jonka luona vierailin lauantai- tai sunnuntai-iltapäivisin jäniksen vuonna 2011-2012. Jo kesäkuussa, kuvatessani lyhyen version Tiikerin vuoden (2010-2011) kuvauspaikalla kävin katsomassa mitä katajalle kuuluu, ja huomasin että se voi hyvin, on jopa saanut seurakseen useampia pieniä katajia.
 
Jostain syystä en ole kirjoittanut blogimerkintöjä vierailuistani tänä vuonna. Viimeksi olen kirjoittanut siitä, miten kiersin rautarengasta lumihangessa Härän vuoden kalliolla joulukuun 20 päivänä, materiaaliksi alustukselle HTDTWP tutkimuspäivään 20 maaliskuuta. Mutta pikavisiitistäni vanhan kivijalan luona kesäkuun 17 päivä, en ole kirjoittanut mitään, ehkä koska olin kiireinen ja koska vierailu oli nimenomaan pikavisiitti. Editoin materiaalista videon Calgaryn konferenssin long table -esitystä varten, jossa olimme kaksistaan Pilvi Porkolan kanssa; Hanna Järvinen ja Tero Nauha olivat mukana vain nukkeina.
 
Aiemmista vierailuistani kirjoitin usein jotakin, ja nyt kun kaikki materiaalit ovat vaarassa tuhoutua – pudotin kovalevyni lattialle, eikä se enää suostunut reagoimaan – tuntuu sitäkin tärkeämmältä kirjoittaa jotakin muistiinpanoja. Kovalevy on toki korjaajalla tutkittavana, ja päätin heti tehdä myös näistä materiaaleista tuplakopiot, mutta silti…
 
Tiikerin vuoden paikan luona käynnistä – vanhan rakennuksen puoliksi nurmettunut betonikivijalka saaren itälaidalla – ei ole paljoa kerrottavaa. Minulla oli pieni matto mukanani, ja harava, jolla huidoin pois korkeaa ruohoa ja mahdollisia hanhihyökkäyksiä. En kuitenkaan tehnyt muuta kuin miniversion yhdestä kierroksesta, ja senkin vain yhdeltä suunnalta. Melkein häpeän omaa laiskuuttani, tai arkuuttani – en halunnut rämpiä ryteikössä, josta aikoinaan sain inhottavan punkin kainalooni. Mutta sen sijaan näin hiukan vaivaa editoinnin suhteen, ja olen melko tyytyväinen lopputulokseen, joka löytyy täältä, kahtena versiona.
 
Entä kataja? Katajan luona vieraileminen oli ehkä mieluisin kaikista vuosista, yhtäältä koska oli hauska pitää sitä ”kädestä”, ja piiloutua huivin sisään, ja toisaalta koska siinä yhteydessä aloitin myös blogin pitämisen. Lisäksi vierailin kaikenlaisten katajansukuisten pensaiden luona eri puolilla maailmaa matkoillani. Niinpä palaaminen katajan luokse tuntui jotenkin merkittävältä.
 
Tarkistin originaalivideon pituuden, 20 min, ja laitoin puhelimen ajastimen varoittamaan 25 minutin kuluttua. Vasta seisoessani katajan luona tajusin, että 25 minuuttia olisi liian pitkä, koska siihen ei sisältynyt paikalle meneminen ja sieltä poistuminen. Ja sitten muistin myös, että kamerani pysähtyy itsestään 21 minuutin kuluttua – miten voinkin aina unohtaa sen. Niinpä laskin hengityksiäni saadakseni suurin piirtein kaksikymmentä minuuttia täyteen (noin 22 min), ja kun palasin katajan luo kamera oli pysähtynyt. Niinpä kuvasin uudelleen lyhyemmän jakson, jotta saisin mukaan myös kuvasta poistumisen.
 
Oli miten oli, katajan kanssa oli helppo olla, se antautui suosiolla kädestä pidettäväksi, ja sen vieressä oli sopiva kohta seisoa kanervikossa. Vasta kuvamateriaalia katsoessa tajusin, että minua tuskin erottaa pensaikosta. Ja minä kun pelkäsin, että sitruunankeltainen asuni olisi liian silmiinpistävä!
 
Tässä pari lähikuvaa katajasta:
 

 

 

 
 
 

Mediaboxi 19.7. – 11.8


Lichen at Allinge eli Allingen jäkälät on esillä Galleria Forum Boxin Mediaboxissa Helsingissä 11 elokuuta asti. Lisätietoja verkkosivuilta, täältä. Mukana on mm. linkki pariin katkelmaan englanninkielisestä tekstistä, jossa puhun nimenomaan tämän työn kuvaamisesta. Koko tekstin tiedot tässä:
“Artistic Research as Situated Practice – Performing with Lichen”. In José Quaresma (ed.) Investigação em Artes – A necessidade das ideias artísticas / Research in the Arts – The need for artistic ideas, Associação dos Arqueólogos Portugueses Lisboa 2018, pp. 15-30.
 

 

Mediabox 19.7.-11.8


Lichen at Allinge eller Lavar vid Allinge visas i Mediaboxen på Galleri Forum Box i Helsingfors fram till den 11 augusti. Mera information på webbsidan, på svenska nere på sidan, här.
Den innehåller bl.a.en länk till några fragment från en text på engelska, där jag berättar om inspelningen av videorna. Hela textens referens:
“Artistic Research as Situated Practice – Performing with Lichen”. In José Quaresma (ed.) Investigação em Artes – A necessidade das ideias artísticas / Research in the Arts – The need for artistic ideas, Associação dos Arqueólogos Portugueses Lisboa 2018, pp. 15-30.
 

 

Media box 19th July to 11th August


 
Lichen at Allinge is shown in the Mediabox at Gallery Forum Box in Helsinki until the 11th of August. More information on the website, here.
 
Extracts from a text discussing the making of these works:
 
“While arriving at the north-western coast of Bornholm, an island situated in the southern part of the Baltic Sea, today officially part of Denmark, for a few days during Easter 2016, I noticed already the first evening the yellow lichen on the cliffs at the shore between the villages Sandkås and Allinge, where the path follows the shoreline. In the afternoon, the following day, when the sunlight was softer than at noon I took my camera and tripod and tried to place myself next to the lichen on the rocks. The only rules I decided to follow were to stand with my back to the camera, as I usually do, and to place the horizon at the centre in the image, to facilitate editing. The approaching dusk and the diminishing light surprised me; the camera needs quite a lot of light for video recording, so I decided to continue the following evening. Pressed for time I decided not to enter the images on the second evening, but to make short 50 second close ups of the rocks and let the yellow lichen come to the fore. I wasted time with the open views, however, fascinated by the combination of black, white and yellow rocks, and dusk was approaching again too soon. The last close ups are not really sharp due to lack of light. When I edited the material, I realized there were very few images of the lichen, after all…” (19-20)
 
“As an idea, performing with lichen is in many ways suitable as an example for ‘becoming with’ although I was not aware of the notion at the time of making the work. The main reason is that lichen are themselves products of a sympoiesis of sorts, of a symbiotic relationship between algae and fungi. Lichen include some of the toughest life forms on the planet that can survive in the harshest of circumstances.” (22)
 
“Artistic Research as Situated Practice – Performing with Lichen”. In José Quaresma (ed.) Investigação em Artes – A necessidade das ideias artísticas / Research in the Arts – The need for artistic ideas, Associação dos Arqueólogos Portugueses Lisboa 2018, pp. 15-30.
 

 

Med en idegran i Dartington


Efter en besynnerlig men nog så intressant konferens, evolving the forest, på Dartington Hall i Devon, hade jag möjlighet att bekanta mig med en åldrig idegran på den gamla kyrkogården där. Enligt broschyren är den mellan 1500 och 2000 år gammal, men synbarligen finns det inga noggranna mätningar. För att skydda rötterna fanns där ett rep kring trädet, så det var lätt att känna igen åldringen, även om det fanns andra gamla fina idegranar i närheten, antagligen tillhörande samma familj. Jag kunde alltså inte gå helt nära trädet, men försökte försiktigt röra vid dess grenar, först på ena sidan och så på den andra. Trots att jag hört ett föredrag om att be tillåtelse av träd att närma sig dem, kände jag nog inget gensvar från dess håll. Och varför skulle den orka bry sig om alla turistkryp som surrade kring den. Den första grenen kändes väldigt kall och inte alls levande. Det jag upplevde var mest att det var tungt att hålla handen uppe så att blodet inte flöt fritt. Den andra lite yngre grenen kändes mer levande, och det var lättare att stå en lite längre stund. Det enda besvärliga var att hitta en bildbeskärning där jag själv rymdes med i bilden, och efter ett par misslyckade försök gick det till slut vägen. Jag tog också en bild av den uråldriga stammen, från samma håll, det vill säga i skuggan, för att ha som ett par med den vida bilden, lite i stil med arbetet Trees in Victoria, även om jag i den serien inte rörde vid träden. På tåget från Totnes till London klippte jag ihop de båda versionerna, en video “With a Yew in Dartington” (5 min 10 sek.) som ser ut såhär:
 

 
Det andra försöket och närbilden klippte jag ihop till en tudelad video “With a Yew in Dartington 1&2”, där ser delarna ut på följande sätt:
 

 

 
Det är egentligen lite förläget att erkänna att jag nog inte lyckas kommunicera med träden då jag uppträder med dem, för det tycks finnas ganska många människor som faktiskt upplever att de kommunicerar med träd. Jag har aldrig varit särskilt känslig eller empatisk, och har heller ingen särskilt livlig fantasi. Men även om jag inte kommunicerar med träden, varken förstår dem eller känner mig förstådd av dem, trivs jag i deras sällskap. Och i närheten av en sån här gamling kan man jun inte annat än känna en viss vördnad och respekt…