a trace of entanglements

Still enough to notice the worlds that lie beneath my feet

Still enough to touch the worlds that rest beneath my hands

Still enough to hear the worlds that thrive

Still enough to feel the worlds presence

Still enough to see the unseen that exists

Entanglement is at the centre and at edge of all living forms. The entanglement of human life with that of the soil is a vastness made visible to the human eye when we engage with the organic systems of life.

Soil mycology and practices of soil regeneration inform this body of work. Contemporary relationships between humanity and the earth are engaged with through soil and its interconnected system/s, evoking an intimate engagement with natural processes of growth and decay.

This body of work thinks through a regenerative approach to art making, where care and reciprocity inform my practice. The relationship of composting and papermaking engage with the cycles of organic matter, interlinking decomposition and regeneration to create new life and different forms.

The art of papermaking is a means of engaging with these complexities through a medium that can embody a regenerative approach. My composting practice opens space for a regenerative engagement with the natural world and those who dwell within the earth.

It is a time of focus, opening space, a path for regenerative transformation. I am immersed in tearing paper, sounds of water swaying, sensations of coolness, seeing pulp shapes, noticing different colours, being careful, being present, being in the reforming of matter, the making of paper.

Hands in motion, find the point of breaking, hear the sound – relief. Again. Motion, breaking, sound – relief. Smaller pieces, and smaller again. Tearing and letting go. Tearing and letting go. Tearing and letting go. My hands are in sync; they know the pattern, the sound. My mind is clear, focused – find the point of breaking. Feel the thread running, the weave tearing, the sound amplifying.

Pulling me into this space.

My hands reach for torn shapes, frayed where they have been broken. A rustling caress, a shushing, shushing sound. My fingertips brush the torn edges - whispering as the matter collects. Release into the water, collapse into softness to become a small ocean. Swaying and soaking in this watery state – then spinning and changing, revealing the matter as it transforms.

Water sways back and forth, back and forth - arms swinging in coolness. My spreading fingers wading through, fluid and in motion - rocking back and forth, back and forth - arms submerge in coolness, feel the weight of this hold. Hands rise to meet the surface, water falls, and the weight is lifted; carefully, holding, revealing, lifting and laying the form to rest.

Making is releasing, seeing, breathing, feeling, knowing – a way of being. Making is becoming, healing, caring for all that I know and all that I don’t know that exists beneath my feet.

I feel the softness beneath my skin

A humming gentle vibration, a moment of connection, a thread of anticipation

I fall forward to the earth, closer to the world that lays beneath my reach

Moving through, over and underneath, I am part of the decay and renewal of life

I am wondering, searching, growing, falling, catching, and becoming

This existence of all that was, all that is and all that shall be

I am seeking, resting, knowing, healing and breathing in

The cradle of life that rests in the arms of death

Here in this space of death and creation, destruction and life, I experience fullness;

The sounds of new, and patterns known, changings constant and success uncertain -

This is the way of being that rests beneath my reach

Here in this cradle I find presence, exploring its form to strengthen the connection

Here in this cradle I touch beginnings, my hands and feet reaching to know this intimate and reverent life

Here in soil, I am still enough to listen, still enough to rest and still enough to be