What Does This Place Know of Me: Connecting with the Landscape

Kultsjon Lake, Lapland, Sweden

Here at Ricklundgarden in the little village of Saxnas Sweden in Southern Lapland, Rebecca Crowell and I have just finished teaching a 7-day painting workshop. It was an incredibly memorable week for us all, from a campfire in the Sami kåta to a hike in the snowy, dreamy, treeless landscape of Stekenjokk near the border with Norway, to working in the studio here at Ricklundgarden.


Ricklundgarden studio

Kåta

Stekenjokk, Sweden

We saw late late sunsets that lasted long into the night, and early morning sunrises only a few hours later in this land so close to the Arctic Circle.

As a way of connecting to this powerful landscape, and as a time for contemplation and reflection, I asked the artists in the workshop to each find a quiet place to sit outdoors--a sit spot--where they would spend 15 minutes each day. They were to return to the same spot each day at different times of day. As part of that process, I posed a different question each day for them to contemplate as they sat in the landscape. Two of the questions were from Robert Macfarlane who wrote the book, Journey on Foot, about walking ancient pathways in Scotland.

On the second day, I asked the question, What does this place know of me that I cannot know of myself?

As we wrapped up the workshop on the last day, Mena Martini, shared her emotional poem with us that she wrote in response to this question. She has given me permission to share it here.

This place knows that I wish to die in your arms, like the little bird in Andreas' palms.
This place knows the darkness inside me, the loneliness, raw and tender as the birches' bark.
It knows my heart, when my heart is frozen.
It knows the bendings of my thoughts, the void of my prejudices, the width of my anxiety.
It knows my inner voice, shrieking and flying like a mosquito on a whitewashed wall.
It knows my chirping, in the tiny leaves,
It knows my flesh, in the peeling bark,
it knows my sleep in the watching birches
It knows my faults in the melting snow
It knows my beauty in the frozen lake
In the still frozen
Frozen lake.
~Mena Martini

Comments

Liminal Time

The word liminal comes from the Latin, limen meaning threshold. an in-between place, a place of transition, a time of waiting and not knowing. Dawn and dusk are considered liminal places. Crepuscular animals, like foxes and coyotes are most active at this time of day, a time that is considered a magical time in Celtic spirituality and to Indigenous people which is perhaps the origin of their designation as tricksters. As I write this, the northern hemisphere has just passed the vernal equinox, where day and night are of equal length.We are in a liminal space between winter and spring right now, unsure if we will have one more storm or snowfall before spring finally settles in. We're also in a liminal place as we live through this pandemic with the anxiety and discomfort of not knowing. A time of great transition for the entire world, wondering what we've learned from this and what lessons we'll carry forward. Author and Fr...

Lessons that Stone Walls Teach

Dry stone wall in the Burren, Co. Clare, Ireland I've just returned from teaching a Workshop in Wild Places class in the Burren in County Clare, Ireland. Writing this post, I'm reminded of another post I wrote after visiting Inishmaan, the middle of the Aran Islands off the west coast of Ireland several years ago. Stone walls crisscrossed the island in tight webs like a fisherman's net. I wrote then that the web of stone walls made me think of the idea of putting limitations on our painting as a way of exploring more deeply and how walls give limits against the limitless. You can read that article here. As our group hiked in the Burren with our guide, Marie McGauran we learned that the walls are stronger because of the holes in them. The wind can pass through. The oldest stone walls, estimated to be 3500 years old are at Skara Brae, a Neolithic site in Orkney. Most walls were built in the 18th and 19th century, marking areas of private ownership and resultin...

I Can't Wait to Travel Again

I miss travelling! I’ve always loved to travel especially to wild and remote places but living on an artist’s unsteady salary, I’ve learned to find inexpensive ways to travel. Several years ago, I discovered artist residencies, which provide accommodation and small studio spaces. These are available to artists all over the world, some of which are free depending on acceptance of your application, others cost a small amount. I prefer ones that are remote but provide accommodation to a small group of artists rather than just one person. The interaction with artists from other countries is a stimulating, enlightening and enriching experience. St. John's Newfoundland 2019 After I’d been teaching painting classes for several years in various parts of Canada, the US, as well as in Sweden and Iceland, I had the idea to combine m...

Janice Mason Steeves

Search This Blog