I did a painting in the back garden today and then went for a swim. Now i’m at my studio. Struggling to think clearly, struggling to be with myself.
I need to do a clear out, but what to clear?
This is why i swim, why i make art, to create or find some kind of clearance, an opening. When I look out to sea, I see space to roam, a blank canvas. Not that it is ever really blank. Its alive.
I get in and make a mark and take it from the there.
In terms of destination, I have an idea of where I’d like to be, but in order to get there my attention has to be focussed on getting a sense of where I am.
Swimming is painting. Painting is swimming. The whole process is a performance, an improvisation and dialogue. Physical feeling is coupled with emotional feeling.
It’s quite difficult to know where the beginning is , where it ends, where the edges are. Everything is liquid. By way of flow and contra flow I find myself in a place and then i get lost . I forget where I was
and now, I’m not sure where I am . So it goes on.
With each stroke water is displaced. I relocate. My attention shifts back and forth between my finger tips and toes, between the application and release of pressure.
I read water and it reads me. We flow in sync, harmony, counterpoint.
I breathe in, breathe out.
As I breathe, time passes . There is no return.
Everything changes, is moving .
I just made a scribble and now I’m going home.
The garden is where I greet the day.
Tomorrow, I’ll probably swim some more.