2022-24
...about my time living in a tent
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 much more proficient forager and herbalist, and also learned to carve wood, spin wool, weave baskets and tan leather and pelts.
Sadly, on the day of the 2024 autumn equinox - day that marked exactly 2 years since first setting it up - my tent was vandalised and set on fire.
I am still processing the intensity of this, alongside the constellation of equally intense events that preceded it. I’m slowly unfolding it all.
Gender has always been a central theme in my artwork and I find it interesting and sad how much of it was reflected in my time in the tent, how political this can get. 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 is being born into a woman’s body.
The sacred womb-space of the tent experiencing violation is highly symbolic to me.
Since moving in 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. Letting this flesh suit move as it pleased. 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.
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 much more proficient forager and herbalist, and also learned to carve wood, spin wool, weave baskets and tan leather and pelts.
Sadly, on the day of the 2024 autumn equinox - day that marked exactly 2 years since first setting it up - my tent was vandalised and set on fire.
I am still processing the intensity of this, alongside the constellation of equally intense events that preceded it. I’m slowly unfolding it all.
Gender has always been a central theme in my artwork and I find it interesting and sad how much of it was reflected in my time in the tent, how political this can get. 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 is being born into a woman’s body.
The sacred womb-space of the tent experiencing violation is highly symbolic to me.
Since moving in 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. Letting this flesh suit move as it pleased. 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.
selected entries from the sketchbooks and journals kept during this time: (still working on this... coming soon!)