I'm also concerned with the idea/myth of 'home' - of its importance to society, to a person - if the land and some scale really forms a part of our identities.
"Until recently there persisted among Europeans the obscure awareness of a mystic solidarity with the land of ones birth. It was not a commonplace love of country or province; it was not admiration of ancestors buried, generation after generation, around the village church. It was something entirely different: the mystic experience of autochthony, of being indigenous, the profound sense of having emerged from the local ground, the sense that the earth had given birth to us, much as it had given birth, in it’s inexhaustible fertility, to rocks and stream and flowers…"
- Mircea Eliade - cited in Discovering the Vernacular Landscape by John Brinkerhoff Jackson
This is something I am considering in my work, and experimenting with in making some self-portrait works, using landscape imagery or a piece of land itself.
How do we see landscape? In my animations I choose primarily to use old postcards which have mostly been hand coloured; so a representation of a place, which probably no longer exists, at least not in that form with another layer of nostalgia in the form of the unreal colouring. These are the images that stay with us, the idealised image not just of landscape, but of place. It becomes nostalgised and exists solely in our minds, in a way that can never truly be represented.
reality vs. representation
Even Ulysses, returning from his great journey to the shores of his birth, finds that he no longer recognises the place. It becomes a myth, a construction of the mind.
I'm coming home // I never want to leave 2012
Marina Camargo plays with similar ideas in some of her work, in the representation of landscapes and the inability to correctly represent them. Her Alps Project work uses old postcards of the Alps, found in vintage shops - ones that have been used and written on, and travelled on a journey of their own. She blacks out the landscape imagery and returns them to the place of the images origin, making new landscapes and finding a way to repurpose old ones.
"The configuration of these thoughts and gestures is assembled as a constellation in its own right; forming another imaginary landscape out of the fragmentation and incompleteness that defines our abilities to represent the world we inhabit."
- quote from her website
The way we interact with landscape in our everyday lives is also a concern in my work. Landscape imagery is the most popular sort of photography for dentists waiting rooms, hospitals, hotels, and even the background to our laptops. It is a stable, a default image of sorts - one of serenity? something ancient? something that ties us to our ancestors or to a place? or simply just a nice picture? It is not just co-incidence. Perhaps it is something conditioned from birth that we look at landscape and understand we are supposed to be taken in by it's beauty, or that it represents something we know we should like or want. But perhaps there is something bigger, in landscape, something that a part of us recognises as "a mystic solidarity with the land of one's birth".
Yi-Fu Tuan - Thought and Landscape; The Eye and the Mind's Eye
Pedro Brito - Planterium (seen at Embassy gallery)
In our homes, we bring in plants. A tiny piece of earth we nurture and enjoy. The houseplant is supposedly good for concentration, for the air quality, for our piece of mind. I have certainly noticed an uptick in plants in the studios at college, they seem to be having a bit of a moment. Can they come to stand part of the whole - a bit of houseplant synecdoche. It's something I think about when I see a piece of work by Oscar Tuazon called Niki Quester, not just because of the work, where he has left a slab of marble in a tree- turning it into a strange kind of statue and monument, but also because he talks about it in those terms in an interview:
(translated from French fairly badly, so this may not be 100% correct but was the gist of the conversation)
When I was little, I was raised Quaker. We lived in a Quaker community in the states near Seattle. Each Sunday we would do something a little different, work a little on some ideas, or have a discussion, that sort of thing but one particular Sunday Niki said we were going to look at a sculpture [monument] in the forest. I was about 8 years old I think, and pretty excited.
We walked in the forest without paths, just completely in the forest. It was pretty difficult going, and we walked for an hour. We arrived and Niki said “There you go, there’s the monument.”
“But…it’s just a tree! It’s just a tree like all the others!”
I was really annoyed, because I’m eight, I don’t understand why we’ve walked for an hour just to see a tree. But after, now, I understand that idea. A monument is simply something that you can choose, you make it that, and it is also something secret, perhaps. It’s an invisible monument.
Oscar Tuazon - Niki Quester
The work I make is less grand, and comes from more of a slightly comedic take on these ideas, but they all feed into my process and the kind of work that I enjoy making and want to make.
(snippet of a video I am working on)