DIARIES & MEMOIRS: COUNTRIES A-Z, Ecology of the absurd, England

Building Silent Haven: Chapter Three

Featured image: ‘Aerial View’ 1996, acrylic on board

In 2000 I found a studio, housed within and named after an old Chocolate Factory, where the plan was to house 100 artists. It was a walk across the park from my flat and near to the allotment! I was creating my little natural world in London! I was the first artist in and my work became freer. I painted, sculpted, crafted, and made clothes, mostly from recycled materials.

‘Red Still Life’ 2000, oil on canvas

I came across a leaflet for a residency at Dorland Mountain Arts colony in California, applied for it and was accepted. Somehow, I made the money to go and so I made drawings of an ambitious painting I wanted to do there. I tentatively bought a huge roll of canvas thinking that I could cut it down when I arrived if it was too big.

In March 2001 I arrived at Dorland and I was shown to where I would be staying for the next month. Wow! The Retreat was sensational. It sat nestled on a remote hillside with fabulous views all around. It was a massive building with a canvas roof and windows which showed the moon coming up at night. The wood burner was the only source of heating and I had never lit a fire in my life. I soon learned and became an expert.


The Retreat

Robert, a permanent resident showed me inside the house and when he got back to the front door, he said “oh, and there is this…” He lifted a pole at the side of the front door and the whole front wooden wall opened out onto a concrete balcony. The amazing thing was, there was a massive drawing board attached to this wall and it was exactly the size of my canvas! Needless to say I didn’t cut it down and I spent the whole month painting outside.

Front wall, living space, and communal dining room

‘Past Life Present’ 2001, oil on canvas

My work had got bigger and bigger over the years, from tiny black and white graphics to this, a massive, colourful oil painting on canvas. It is about a vision I had of me and my relationships to people in a past life as Native Americans. The other people in the painting are from my present life.

I met a beautiful man called Ben at Dorland, who made amazing sculptures in wood. We hung out together throughout the month. I realised later in the month that I had fallen in love with him, but he had a girlfriend so I never told him. Keeping my feelings to myself was hard. When I left Dorland, I got onto the Greyhound bus and began to feel ill. I felt like I was having a heart attack. I was getting up to ask the driver to take me to a hospital when I instinctively pulled out a piece of paper and pencil and started writing. I wrote a 46-verse love poem about Ben on the bus and when I had finished, the pain in my heart had gone.

Dorland was an amazing break from my madness and gave me the motivation and energy for the beginning of a new life.

Ben

DIARIES & MEMOIRS: COUNTRIES A-Z, England, Modern poetry is anarchism, Popular & established authors

last seen

i want to be like them
The Missing

i want a feature in the Big Issue
the ‘ last seen’ scenario
‘she seemed fine at the drop off!’
parked at the school gates
waving goodbye to boys 6 and 8
in her favourite coat,
non branded, clean, parka green.

the despair of staying here
makes my nurture seem like torture
there’s only comfort in escape
i want to get away up the M8
music on full blast
shoebox of stashed cash
start a new life
no questions asked.

but i imagine you
led back to the school
only a weary teacher to wait with
then driven back
when I don’t return
to a house no longer a home.

i won’t leave my children
a legacy of loss.
i cant be like them.
The Missing are those who go
and stay gone
i’ll be the one
dashing back for the pick up
shouting ‘sorry i’m late’
last seen
at the school gate
clutching kids.

By Sarah Morris

Collapse chats & diaries, DIARIES & MEMOIRS: COUNTRIES A-Z, Ecology of the absurd, Reflections

Dying Well Amidst Collapse (#1)

In 2040 I will be 60. In 2050 I will be 70. I am lucky enough that I am likely to remain relatively healthy throughout my middle age; I like to think that my old age will not start until I am 70. I have read enough now about the -more or less global- Collapse of modern civilization that is highly probable before 2050, and highly possible by 2040. This means that civilization is likely to become decrepit before I do, and I am likely, like the majority of humans alive after 2040, to suffer a tragic death (although I may not). How can I make my death less tragic? How can I die well? Firstly, I can resolve not to die in a state of blind ignorance about what is happening to the world, as unfortunately, many are doomed to do (I urge you to read about Collapse, particularly its thermodynamic and ecological bases). Secondly, I can resolve not to die in a state of blind panic. If I know my death may be tragic, the least I can do to prepare is contemplate the various possibilities of my death, as well as maintain a good meditation practice of letting go: letting go pain; letting go all distractions from the present moment. This is dying well amidst Collapse.

Originally published in the Schemattic digital garden.

Canada, Collapse chats & diaries, DIARIES & MEMOIRS: COUNTRIES A-Z, Reflections

Fresh, harder times ahead

Arguments with my wife. Arguments with myself. Arguments with the past, present and future. But then there was some kind of movement. And here I am. In a new city, fresh; on a new continent, fresh. Sat in a booth in the corner of some kind of conference room. One light broke, the other one shining me up askew. Working on my stuff. I was here a few days ago too, but that was before all the argument. I’m here as if for the first time. Actually talking to people. Having things to say. And whatever I went through earlier, I know there will be much harder times ahead.

Originally published in the Schemattic digital garden