2022-24
Moved by the desire to dive deeper into my research and art practice, on the day of the autumn equinox 2022 I moved into a canvas Bell Tent by the woods.
Approaching graduation, the focus of my creative work had become more and more centred around nature and rewilding - with natural materials gradually becoming the center of my practice. I felt the urge to be outside as much as possible and my flat started filling with evergrowing amounts of plants and plant matter of all sorts. I had been indipendently studying foraging and herbalism for a few years and the city just wasn’t enough for me anymore. And so, after graduating, I found a way out - packed my stuff and pitched my tent, with the intention of trying it out for a few months.
I took breaks in the winter, to travel and visit family, and came back to the same plot of land again in 2023 and then 2024.
I built a wooden platform. Worked on a garden. Painted under a tarp in the woods. I loved my tent with all my heart - she meant to me more than I can express and I felt we had a living relationship.
The tent embodied magic. It made my heart feel like I did as a child - full of beauty, awe, imagination, silliness. It was incredibly impractical but made my heart burst with love and enthusiasm.
My heart would skip a beat when I walked back at night and caught a glimpse of the tent lit up and full of magic against the blue canvas of the night sky, stars emerging and owls hooting.
Everytime I left I would place an energy shield and call for the protection of beloved plant friends and spirits of the Land. All around it was Nettles - Raspberry to the North, Birch to the East, Hawthorns to the West and a portal of Rowans to the South.
Sleeping in the round takes you on a journey within, through wild dreams, an ecstatic sense of aliveness, connection to Spirit and a shamanic-like exploration of the deepest darkest corners that exist within us.
A womb, a cave - it was a place for transformation. I felt my spirit stretch.
It was an initiation to the wild way, to the old ways. An incredible adventure. I have acquired many skills through it, became a more proficient forager and herbalist, and also learned to carve wood, spin wool, weave baskets and tan leather and pelts.
On the day of the 2024 autumn equinox - day that marked exactly 2 years since first setting it up - my tent was vandalised, the canvas torn apart and roof partially set on fire.
Before moving into the tent I thought the biggest challenges I would face would be dealing with cold or storms, but instead it’s been dealing with men. The immense vulnerability that it is, to be born into a woman’s body. The sacred womb-space of the tent experiencing violation is highly symbolic. Gender has always been a central theme in my art and I find it interesting and sad how much of it was reflected in my time in the tent, how political this can get.
Since moving into a tent stemmed from my art practice, I consider it very much a part of it - an art piece itself. A cross between performance, Land art, a form of resistance and an expedition, high endurance test or experiment.
Perhaps it is a one of a kind piece that exists in the liminal space where art is embodied. Perhaps it belongs to the realm of activism. I feel no need to define it.
The last weeks in the tent I felt the freest I ever felt. I would roam the woods at night in total darkness without a crumb of fear. Dance in circles under the moonlight. I used to howl and sing and scream. Deliriously free. Commuting with nature and forces beyond it. Flowing in my self-expression. I keep the memory of it close to my heart and I know the wild creature still lives within me - I know the wild creature is as old as time and can't be killed or tamed or forgotten.
In 2025 I shadowed Moggie of Moggie’s Yurts in the built of a new home made of canvas and wood - which is my current full-time base.
Approaching graduation, the focus of my creative work had become more and more centred around nature and rewilding - with natural materials gradually becoming the center of my practice. I felt the urge to be outside as much as possible and my flat started filling with evergrowing amounts of plants and plant matter of all sorts. I had been indipendently studying foraging and herbalism for a few years and the city just wasn’t enough for me anymore. And so, after graduating, I found a way out - packed my stuff and pitched my tent, with the intention of trying it out for a few months.
I took breaks in the winter, to travel and visit family, and came back to the same plot of land again in 2023 and then 2024.
I built a wooden platform. Worked on a garden. Painted under a tarp in the woods. I loved my tent with all my heart - she meant to me more than I can express and I felt we had a living relationship.
The tent embodied magic. It made my heart feel like I did as a child - full of beauty, awe, imagination, silliness. It was incredibly impractical but made my heart burst with love and enthusiasm.
My heart would skip a beat when I walked back at night and caught a glimpse of the tent lit up and full of magic against the blue canvas of the night sky, stars emerging and owls hooting.
Everytime I left I would place an energy shield and call for the protection of beloved plant friends and spirits of the Land. All around it was Nettles - Raspberry to the North, Birch to the East, Hawthorns to the West and a portal of Rowans to the South.
Sleeping in the round takes you on a journey within, through wild dreams, an ecstatic sense of aliveness, connection to Spirit and a shamanic-like exploration of the deepest darkest corners that exist within us.
A womb, a cave - it was a place for transformation. I felt my spirit stretch.
It was an initiation to the wild way, to the old ways. An incredible adventure. I have acquired many skills through it, became a more proficient forager and herbalist, and also learned to carve wood, spin wool, weave baskets and tan leather and pelts.
On the day of the 2024 autumn equinox - day that marked exactly 2 years since first setting it up - my tent was vandalised, the canvas torn apart and roof partially set on fire.
Before moving into the tent I thought the biggest challenges I would face would be dealing with cold or storms, but instead it’s been dealing with men. The immense vulnerability that it is, to be born into a woman’s body. The sacred womb-space of the tent experiencing violation is highly symbolic. Gender has always been a central theme in my art and I find it interesting and sad how much of it was reflected in my time in the tent, how political this can get.
Since moving into a tent stemmed from my art practice, I consider it very much a part of it - an art piece itself. A cross between performance, Land art, a form of resistance and an expedition, high endurance test or experiment.
Perhaps it is a one of a kind piece that exists in the liminal space where art is embodied. Perhaps it belongs to the realm of activism. I feel no need to define it.
The last weeks in the tent I felt the freest I ever felt. I would roam the woods at night in total darkness without a crumb of fear. Dance in circles under the moonlight. I used to howl and sing and scream. Deliriously free. Commuting with nature and forces beyond it. Flowing in my self-expression. I keep the memory of it close to my heart and I know the wild creature still lives within me - I know the wild creature is as old as time and can't be killed or tamed or forgotten.
In 2025 I shadowed Moggie of Moggie’s Yurts in the built of a new home made of canvas and wood - which is my current full-time base.
selected entries from the sketchbooks and journals kept during this time: (still working on this... coming soon!)