Murmur I​
Early to the woods for the break of day
I stand as a breath of air as tree... as bird, scanning
Underfeet rustling as the hedges alive with sparrows
A lone Jay with me in its blind spot - the robins, I collide with their clatter, my caution, alert to their morning hedgerow, as ever, in awe of the woodland, her task
Standing for the time it takes to be still
blend, melt away and the wood harmonizes, beetling and scuttle
Black birds sweep brilliantly across me, my wings in seed form
Careful as finally I break it
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A dense scale of boot, breath... shutter into the day
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January '24
Murmur II
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Walking the Roman Road
a crisp start that boundaries an escape into country
I walk in the direction of a dream... so much less romantic or historic than it sounds, yet still, it paces out a night into morning
I hear the Robin sings at night, close to a light
I startle. A dazzling sound on a cold morning. My red chapped cheeks tuned to you. There you are perched up high, sending notes slicing the sky
If I stand feet hip distance apart will you teach me... robin... as ghosts are rolled into your beating, warm underwing. Tighten your underwing little bird
If I stand quiet enough and soft you will see me as I try so hard to be blind. As I stumble and trip over stones. I wonder what quality of cold you wear Robin, how far you see
How the future sings through you - teach me.
MURMUR: a low, continuous background noise – listen
Stimulating ongoing investigations into responses to emergency via Elaine Scarry’s ‘Thinking in an Emergency’ (Amnesty International Global Series); climate, nuclear, human.
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Considering compassionate touch methodologies and questioning how to move over land, within water, through air. Countering the ensuing damage by brokering careful, slow observation through ears and eyes and skin; response and reply within drawing, photography and word.
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Concentrating on the alarm of startling wild birds, as quietly they nest on the ground, move within hedgerow, perch high in trees. Their lift off and alarm calls as they rise into flight.
Being at high points in the woods - am dreaming and wishing for wings.
Place: Brown Clee Hill, Bunkers Wood, Roman Road, Stourbridge
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This is a contribution to Murmur, a project created by Angela Brew from ThinkingThroughDrawing https://www.brewdraw.com/projects-8
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