'Thin Blue Line' - part of a land installation I made in the garden at Wongol, of planted sticks, painted blue.

 See the whole set of residency photos by clicking this link.

SNIPPETS FROM MY DIARY...
I am not sure what will be my strongest memories of this residency - the multi-dimensional rhythm of rain and grasshoppers, the heat and humidity of the atmosphere, or the dazzling colours and sounds of a million flying insects and small birds that I have seen flying through the forest.

At the Gongju Office, the chorus of grasshoppers in the forest is overwhelming:  wave after wave of sound…. almost like the insistent rhythm of the ocean where I live in Devon, England. The sound is strong, rhythmical and calming. Grasshoppers and ocean - each have their own rhythm, in harmony with the universe.

 I dream of making a huge work about the grasshoppers in the fabulous space outside the YATOO Office. But I don't.

Enchanted by rhythmical waves of sound produced by the grasshoppers, I stand under the trees and try to record it with my digital camera, I long for my new audio recorder, waiting for me at home.

After my first few difficult days adapting to my new environment, I enjoy walking through the village to catch the bus for Gongju. As I pass, I catch the sweet scent of fruit and vegetables ripening in the sun. I watch the crops growing in the fields. I feel connected to the earth. As I walk, I feel the mighty presence of surrounding mountains. I laugh with the local women travelling in the bus - even though we don't speak a word of each other's language. They are friendly and kind and tough.

Along the road that winds through the village, I have noticed wonderful artworks appearing along the roadside. 

I find clay a little way up the mountain. I find a spring of pure water in the garden. I hold my hands out in the rain, and take photos - but they are no good!

I worry about finding sufficient materials - I have spent a whole day in Gongju, looking around the shops. I am nervous about picking up stones or sticks in the forest, because of snakes, Torrential rain prevents me from working outside. Maybe I will make work about the rain. I get frustrated - then, as I fall asleep at night, I decide I have no choice but to trust nature, and work from moment to moment, with an open mind and empty hands.

 In the morning, I set off for the clay I found yesterday. I am dressed in terrible old shorts and t-shirt, waterproof après-ski boots and a good layer of insect repellent. Why am I wearing fur-lined boots in this heat? Because they are waterproof and very light-weight in the aeroplane! 

 But stepping outside the house, I become distracted by the sound of drumming and music… and I soon find myself standing outside The Thousand Year-Old Tree. I am amazed to see that the roadside artworks have multiplied overnight. The tree itself is exuberantly decorated with flags and banners. There is a sizeable audience sitting around the tree. They are watching a group of barefoot men singing and drumming old shamanic stories and songs, to the accompaniment of much laughter and delight. I stand enthralled - unable to understand a single word, but it is not necessary. The ancient message of the music is loud and clear.  

See the whole set of residency photos by clicking this link.

I go into the forest, keeping my mind open and stamping hard on the ground to let the snakes know I was coming. I sit down to think… and the sounds and brilliant colours of birds and insect flying through the trees are just magical. I do not stay long. The mosquitoes drive me away.

 I collect some clay on my way back to the house, and begin to manipulate it. I make some little upright shapes… then I make a couple more… then I add a bit of laver and cooking foil. am interested to see what will happen to them the next time it rains. I think I am making work about stone, water and clay - but I find, in fact, it is turning into something quite different.

I call this piece: 'Coming Round the Mountain'.

 Whilst I am playing with the clay, I decide to go ahead with an idea for painted twigs in the garden. I have already stuck a few twigs into the grass, but unfortunately someone ran a car over them.

 Mon 10^th Aug

It is still extremely hot and humid. Everything is taking longer than anticipated. I cannot hurry in this heat. I don't like it.   

I gather some large leaves from the garden, and a bowlful of the dry clay. I have an idea to place it under the 1000 year-old tree, but when I arrive there, it does not seem appropriate.

 I walk back down through the village, carrying my bowl of soil and the leaves. I stop to admire and photograph some of the village art exhibits, but notice that some of them have already been taken away… temporary residents, like myself.

 I arrive at the Pagoda, but this does not seem a suitable place either… not enough privacy. I walk back home for lunch, still carrying the clay soil, and feeling hot and fed-up.

This afternoon, I will take the leaves and the clay soil back up the mountain to the place where I found it.
 

This is what I made: a bed of green leaves to carry the soil. I placed it in the sparkling stream running beneath the trees. I say quietly to the universe: 'Thank you, for the privilege of being here.'

See the whole set of residency photos by clicking this link. 

Tu 11^th Aug

Torrential rain. I get paint and other necessities from Gongju. I cut brushwood from the forest behind the office in the rain. Now I can begin to work on my idea for the twigs in the garden.  

I will call it 'Thin Blue Line'.