My current art practice explores the fragility of the landscape due to climate change. I use a range of processes and materials which rely on my own physicality. Having developed a tremor in my drawing hand, this is resulting in a change of direction.  At Garden Cliff, Westbury on Severn, the Triassic stone diverts the water of The Severn, forcing it to find a way around it, rerouting it onto the floodplains. Likewise, I’m not resisting my tremor, but embracing it. There is always a different track to follow. I need to go with the flow.

In 2002 I made a film called “Letting Go”. It showed close up footage of objects being activated by my hand, then released and left to come to a halt. A cup on a hook, a rotary washing line, a rocking chair and a spinning coin. All slowed down, or sped up, to last as long as each other. The coin was poetic, the cup trembled nervously, the empty rocking chair was akin to a scene in a horror film. All left traces of touch, of human contact. But the human had gone. 

The actions were about impact and release, how long it takes to let go and how long it would take to cease spinning or rocking. To become still.

I showed “Letting Go” at a PVA LabCulture gathering and people were very moved by it. At the time I didn’t understand why. It all began with my hanging a mug on a cup hook and closing the cupboard as I was rushing out of the house. I forgot my keys and went back into the kitchen and saw it was still gently rocking on the hook. I was struck by the ability of a hand to activate the inanimate, and that it continued to respond to my touch long after I let go of it.

Now I realise it was essentially about letting go of my marriage. And my fear of possible repercussions. Reacting to a given situation.

Of course I wasn’t conscious of that at the time, I can only interpret it now, on reflection. I left the east bank of the Severn four years later and moved across to the west bank.

In 2020, during Covid, I made another Letting Go film.

In 2023 another film could be part of this collection – Earth Crumbles.

I now  find myself using my practice as a tool of enquiry, seeking to understand personal challenges in a similar way. This time not of activating departure, or letting go, but for acceptance of change. I am navigating around the tremor, seeking a safe harbour. 

Recent artworks and  films have been about mudstone rocks collapsing in my hand; rubbings of fragile cliffs crumbling, ice melt drawings and prints of flooded landscapes. Could it be that this landscape, in a state of  flux, is a metaphor for my ageing?  

I first noticed the severity of the tremor during the act of drawing. The intention of that action cause the shaking. It was diagnosed as an ‘intentional tremor’ – meaning if I want my hand to do something specific it refuses to comply. My drawing hand was no longer under my control. I had to change tack. I’m gradually adjusting my studio practice, learning to lean into the tremor. 

The intensity of drawing is very specific. Whilst it feels like I am losing control, alternative (more positive) thinking might connect with the tendency to tremble when excited. My letting go of control feels is an exciting thought,

My latest artworks are called  “Holding It Together”. There are three sets of three hand-drawn monochrome prints, reconstructed on a muslin support, stitched back together with black cotton threads which drift against the surface, as do the marks that define the stones in the images. These works are ethereal, printed on thin Japanese Washi paper, attached with tiny knots to taut muslin, threads dangling. The touch that made the drawings was as light as could be because I allowed my tremor to participate. My understanding of the geological structure of my subject meant I could relax as I drew, reduce pressure on the paper and tread lightly on the surface.

The resulting monoprints are a series of delicate, flowing drawings. When my hand flicked around, the marks flicked too. 

This is a new body of work and it feels important to me. It raises many questions. 

What does it mean? Is it about losing control, or being excited? Refusing restrictions, or accepting them? Controlling losses? Adapting to change? Ageing? Welcoming the untethered? Hanging on with a thread? 

Only time will tell. Meanwhile, I will allow my body and the Severn landscape to inspire me and guide my studio practice. Enjoy the tidal range of movements.

FOR IMAGES AND OTHER PRINTMAKING WORKS PLEASE VISIT MY PRINTS PAGE