A few of the close and not so close encounters with noisy immature and fine adult Herring Gulls over this year.
Over several nights around the time of our September Harvest Moon, the moon has been rising around the same time that the sun sinks out of sight. It has had a salmon pink, pumpkin-like appearance. Not surprisingly this moon is also known as 'Fruit Moon'. These few days have been energising in the sense that sleep has been pushed away and I've been called out to attend to it. Its appearance really is a moon rise- rising is the right word to describe it- and it has been happening quietly each time out of a cloud bank near the horizon.
Tuesday 9th September, the night of the full moon, was no exception and I climbed Hengistbury Head around the time of sunset to find at least a hundred others with various sorts of recording equipment being addressed by an expert on these matters who sadly for him had his back to the event.
Of course accompanying this has been an exceptionally low tide so I've also been working along the low tide line around Old Harry Rocks in Studland.
More of that later.
On the Sunday night (August 11th 2014) of the Charfest (see previous post) we were sitting around the camp fire when the largest full moon of the year slowly climbed through the beech and conifer woodland curtain. Light crept along the nearby forest ride and trees lit up as if with candles. On August 11, the moon approached within 221,800 miles of Earth. It is a perigee-syzygy of the Earth-Moon-Sun system (perigee: closest point of an elliptical orbit; syzygy: straight line made of three bodies in a gravitational system). The moon did appear larger although apparently the difference is small to a casual observer. I chose not to paint the moon- I was called out to the way its light draped the woods with an enchantment. I worked with gouache and earth from beneath in the kind of conditions that make it difficult to see which tubes of paint one is opening...hence Opera Pink.
I began today to record the drawings I made during an annual gathering of charcoal burners (Charfest) two weeks ago and the camera still smells of smoke. Smoke flavoured the 3 days and its lingering presence conjures the event powerfully. Another sense came to my notice: touch. When 'harvesting' the charcoal from the Ring kiln and Earth Burn there were no gloved hands. Direct contact seemed to give both pleasure and a means of gauging the quality of the product. Skin was becoming blacker and blacker through sieving and bagging with bare hands.
This digital platform offers a forum for me to reflect further on what informs my material practice.