Nature

Reflections

This term I am modelling a fair bit at Hampstead School of Art, which is a lovely art school in north west London. A super friendly place which feels like a family under the enthusiastic and loving care of Anat and Isobel. I am there all day on Thursdays for sculpture classes with Patricia Barker who makes beautiful stone carving work (the classes are in clay). On Saturdays I model for a life class with art writer, speaker and artist Estelle Lovatt, and a portrait class with artist John Murphy-Woolford. After half term my schedule changes, and I will get five classes a week.

The following drawings are by students in Estelle’s class. She set up the pose with a mirror (and skeleton) for an interesting reflection. I love the variety of responses, these are just a few. It was a meditative pose as I look through the window at the big tree in the garden, becoming greener and fuller each week of the emergent Spring.

At some point in the winter, I think half term in February, I called into the school after swimming at the pond on Hampstead Heath, to ask for work. My mobile phone no loner makes (or receives) ordinary calls which definitely constitutes a reason for replacing it. The truth is I kind of enjoy being creative about getting round this matter (it otherwise works). Anat welcomed me – after several years’ absence. I had been put off by the long journey in rush hour, however under the correcting influence of universal credit, I was thinking ahead to the summer term, which can be quieter for modelling. Plus, in the intervening years I have developed a passion for regular cold water swimming, particularly on Hampstead Heath. This alignment was bound to zing in Summer when the ponds are open late enough for a dip post work. Anat snapped me up, happy to fill in diary blanks with someone the tutors know well.

Hampstead School of Art is a short walk from the West Heath with the beautiful Pergola raised walking platform looking over the landscape between hanging flowers and branches twisted around the stone structure. Further on the animals in Golders Hill park call from their cages, but I continue my walk through the woods to the East Heath to get my pond fix. As I arrive into the woodland after a long day of six hours modelling plus the morning journey and lunch, I can feel my energy expanding into the sprawling foliage, relaxing in all directions. Into the curling, reaching branches, fluffy blossom, dense lower bushes, tangles of roots under foot. The birdsong eases a tension I have been holding yet was unaware of, so I slow down. I feel like I have arrived home. I don’t always swim; sometimes I prefer simply sitting and walking or lying on the heath. It is my medicine.

Like a good school child I feel reassured after my universal credit six month interview in Forest Hill. He says I’ve done well; he can tell I’m making an effort and increasing my workflow. He is my work coach and we have a comfortable, friendly rapport. I’m relieved by his reaction; and I get a sense I am making his life a bit easier, giving him a chance to show his warmth. He got a bit embarrassed at our first meeting, asking to see my website. Instagram I explained, is really where it’s at, but it’s full of naked drawings of me so we bypassed that option.

This time he tells me many of the arts professionals he sees are really struggling, but I seem to be on track, doing fine. He wants to see my receipts and is impressed by all the train journeys to jobs many miles away – Guildford, Wokingham, Harpenden… I let him know I am using this universal credit experience to my advantage, that it’s helping me to focus. To notice what is working in my life. That I even applied for a completely different job which I didn’t get, but that I tried and I did want it. That would have been working at my beloved pond, a pretty ordinary job, yet at a place I love. My CV however shows that I haven’t done anything outside of the arts for well over 20 years. When asked questions at the interview about tricky situations with the public, I was really searching way back for examples of my response. My hesitation spoke loudly, and I could imagine the hot irritable crowds, and my art brain trying to be creative, when sheer decisive action may be required. It’s surely nicer to keep the pond as my swimming haven, not muddied by internal politics and cleaning duties… My work coach made his kind assessment in under 15 minutes though the appointment was for an hour.

During the week I met with my friend Limor to help her rehearse her show, ‘Mermaid in the Heart’, and that was a very sweet exchange which reignited my love of collaboration. It can get lonely working on one’s one person show, filling out all the applications, being alone in rehearsal. It dawned on me to invite Limor to perform her show at my next gig – at The Crypt Gallery in a month, since I would need help anyway, and this way we can help each other. The gig won’t be confirmed till a week before so selling advance tickets is a bit squeezed. Having two of us can make it more fun.

Here is Limor amidst her outdoor dressing area; and the pond at Twinkle park.

Her show is about mythical creatures as archetypes within her, and she has many simple costumes to distinguish them, as well as voices and physicality. We rehearsed in the Twinkle Park in Deptford and Limor hung her costumes on some branches. Being in nature I noticed, suits her performance, and remembered that the Crypt also has a garden. She made me laugh and I loved her lightness as she played inside the different characters occupying her head. It made me aware of how serious I can be! I need this. We’ll meet regularly to prepare. Last year we were here in this park in the Summer, preparing an application which didn’t get picked. We need each other – we need fellow wacky middle-aged theatre/art buddies who make performances that only we perform. A strange unique breed.

‘Enchantment at the Crypt’ will be on Saturday 24th May from 5pm – 7:30pm with two performances, each of an hour, one from her and one from me. If we are bumped from the Crypt and the weather is good, we’ll find somewhere outdoors near us in Brockley or Deptford, south east London.

Here is Limor as an angelic butterfly fairy during her recent performance at Russia Dock, close to where she lives by the river near Surrey Quays.

Where am I going? / How does it feel?

I don’t know where I am going and I feel free. My new book of walks outside of London is my freedom pass, following the instructions, climbing over stiles. I am discovering new beautiful places and there are many. (I modelled for a group of women artist friends at The Slade in early March, and one had copies of this book with her. A friend of hers had written it. I knew I had to get it!)

When I go to places where I know people, often I imagine they read my recent post. Their comments to me suggest this without actually saying so. They offer pieces of help and let me know they are supportive as well as appreciative if I am working with them. It is touching. Last night I dreamt that another tutor I work with offered to make me a flyer for one of my shows. Love it!

The post’s purpose was to shift my vibration externally to match where I am at now internally; to keep people and the world aware of who I really am at this time. By doing this I can magnetise everything I need, in the right time. I don’t need money right away, but at some point I will. The post suggests people will help me, but truly the solutions may emerge in all sorts of ways.

Yesterday I went to Coulsdon South with a friend visiting from Germany, and we walked for a few hours along Farthing Down and in Happy Valley. It’s the largest stretch of open green land technically within London, so you can get there on an Oyster card. We spoke of many things including imagining the lives we’d love to have. In five years time say. I don’t think I know all the details, but I would like to live outside of London, in a countryside setting. That means not needing to get around London too much. I’d like to do gardening, have a reasonably sized dog and take it for walks. Would I still make performances? I think I’d prefer to write for a while. Less is more. I have really scaled back on the number of people I try to keep up with in my life in recent years. I’m not a memorialist in terms of friendship. If a friendship isn’t active and current, serving each of us mutually at this time, I let it go. Not that it couldn’t re-emerge, but that the foundation would need to have shifted in relation to the ways we have changed. So we wouldn’t slip back into the old patterns, whatever they were. I am committed to evolving!

Where I live in south east London is really lovely. It is the perfect place for me in the capital. When I walk around my neighbourhood and see the other people on their walks or in the shops, I feel like I belong here. I like the laidback vibe and the green spaces, as well as the more urban places like Deptford nearby. I can walk to the river at Deptford beach at the bottom of Watergate Street. In the other direction, closer to me, I can walk to the top of the hill at Hilly Fields, or the next hill at Telegraph Hill, and see views of London; the city in one direction, Blythe Hill and Crystal Palace in another. There is cheap fresh fruit and vegetables in Lewisham or Deptford markets, and more expensive organic produce in smaller shops scattered about.

My little street is very friendly. I have lived here for over 14 years. For most of those years I hardly knew any of the neighbours, until a few years ago, one hot summer evening, I overheard a mother screaming at her teenage daughter. My window was wide open and they were on the street. Hearing their painful exchange and the girl crying made me feel for her, so I looked to see where they were. Eventually they returned into one of the houses. The next day I called there to check how they were. It was a difficult phase for the family, but I was welcomed in by the other parent who explained what was going on. Ever since then I joined the street WhatsApp group and started attending the annual street party. I witnessed how the teenage girl became less troubled, as she moved to a different school where she felt more accepted. What really struck me was, how much she was supported by other neighbours on our street. Some of them have lived here for decades and know each other well. What had disturbed me about the screaming on the street, was in another sense a sign of how healthy they were, to be so open among their neighbours. They knew they were safe there. I just didn’t know that. The girl had been brought up to be close with various of the neighbours, not just her family. It was an unfamiliar scenario to me, but I was grateful to become aware of it.

Then this year for the first time, several of my neighbours (6 people from 4 households including the teenage girl) came to watch my performance at Telegraph Hill Festival! They saw me naked and doing my thing, and they did drawings of me. That I didn’t like that performance so much may not be so important. There was a milestone with my street! I crossed a different threshold. Even not liking my own show, I felt accepted and supported by my neighbours. For much of my life I have felt like an outsider but that has definitely changed. As astrologers might say, my midheaven is going critical this year. One’s midheaven represents the way others see you, and your role in the community, perhaps what you do for a living.

A tree from another walk in the book, near Chorleywood, also in the Oyster zone. I stopped here to sit on the tree and do some journaling.

Return to my den and the Kali Tree

This is a blog in vlogs and pictures!

I really enjoyed writing or posting everyday for a while, but when I ran out of things to say I knew it was time to slow down (let’s see). In the past I have spent a month writing a blog post (usually for Spirited Bodies) when it is properly researched like an essay, almost academic. Sometimes less is more. Also I lost my momentum for the play I am writing, getting too caught up in creating blogs. But it’s been exciting and I don’t want to lose that fun, laidback and open vibe. See you soon!

Blood on my Thighs

It’s been far too long. Since I wrote one of those species of posts that incriminates more friends than I have time or inclination to check with first! I am the only one at home, in fact I am the only person in the building as other flats are both empty. The bass has been returned to its natural position (my downstairs neighbours used to complain about this) and I am working my way through the metal archives. Rocking Suicidal Tendencies!

After a busy term I took a holiday on my own, for walking and writing in the Highlands of Scotland. 8 days and nights in Caithness and the North coast of Sutherland changed the way I felt about my life. I mean I wanted to stay there, I want to live there! I found a remote place with cliffs of such rugged awe and not a person in sight for hours, and I felt like my soul lived there, that I belong there. A place where the power of nature is so extremely evident, that you know man has just long left it alone, given up considering the possibilities of exploitation.

Coming back home was painful, the anonymity of living in the big city felt bleak. So cramped, over-built and ugly, unnaturally polluted. To think I have lived here all my life, trying to claw my way through it. I felt intense resistance towards travelling out of my area, especially into Central London for nearly a week. When I did venture to the Tate Modern to check out the Matisse, even though it was a Sunday I found myself shutting down in the traffic. I mean I was cycling and I felt myself putting up a wall of defense around me to protect myself from the heavy dense energy, the selfish push of each vehicle wanting to get where it needed to go above all else, never mind the rest. I’ve never been so aware of this before or so sensitive to it. In fact I think I used to thrive in some way from the adrenaline rush of cycling in thick London traffic when I am in the quick of it. It certainly enlivens one’s senses and I long gave up listening to music at the same time as I need to be alert to every sound around, quiet motors behind or other cyclists approaching.

Once my psychic screen was in place I actually felt more focused like nothing could distract me from my mission, and again I was revelling in rising above it. So before I can move North I have to work out how to live there. There isn’t much life drawing there, I mean there just aren’t that many people and that’s the point. I will say however, that everyone I met who asked what I do and I told them I am a life model, well they all knew what that is. I cannot say the same in London, I am frequently met with quizzical looks. Cultured folk those Highlanders.

Before I left for my trip I was thinking I would organise a Spirited Bodies event immediately after I returned, for September. The lochs and mountains temporarily threw me though. I found myself losing all interest in my erstwhile London activities. The only thing which inspired me was trying to get back North. I had the hostel guide and lots of numbers for self catering accommodation on Orkney or again on the North coast of the mainland.

So last Monday I happened to be online at the right time in the afternoon when a life model colleague (and former Spirited Body) posted a job for that evening partly directed at me. I had spent a lot of time in my area and on my sofa and felt ready to get to work. Sometimes when I get dressed I begin to have a sense of the day ahead from the clothes I am drawn to wearing, in that way I can create my own reality. In any case I was bleeding and that just makes me more in tune; I had a very good feeling about this evening, and it lined up with meeting a friend in the area too. I was experimenting with not wearing a mooncup as I was feeling that this mini plunger contraption which is better for the environment is actually blocking my bits, stopping my cunt from breathing in the correct manner. For the first time in a few years I was going back to tampons and breathe they did. I got to Leytonstone in good time, met Jenny the organiser setting up and surveyed the place. I was ready to rock it, and after the first half the artists clapped enthusiastically. I felt a bit slimey and often this feeling is just an illusion or sweat, but in the bathroom I discovered blood smeared all over my thighs. This doesn’t happen with the mooncup but at least I was breathing.

You know it’s been a good session when several more offers of work come immediately as a result. I also thought that this hall would work for Spirited Bodies and felt positively about the group. It was discussed favourably over drinks so watch this space for an imminent date, in September.

Slime at the Farr Bay

Summer sunset over Torresdale Bay, Bettyhill

Borrogeo inlet with former site of medieval Borve Castle (above left)

So underpopulated is the village that at the Farr Bay Inn a german shepherd sometimes serves behind the bar

My last evening

Cliffs at Holburn Head, Scrabster

Esther Bunting