I want to go home
‘I want to go home’ is my deeply personal response to the floods. The swirly toxic aftermath, the many hands that held us and my deep desire to go home. To have a safe space to rest that is my own. It’s all I keep wishing for.
The night before we had friends round. It was raining heavy as it had been for a whole week. we drank beers, smoked, I was in the zone experimenting with nerikomi and marbling techniques for the first time and stayed up late after everyone else had gone to bed. I was a bit mesmerised but the swirly patterns I'd made and went to bed feeling satisfied and slept like a little stone.
At 5am I awoke needing to pee. Put my foot down into ankle deep water. Turned the lights on and saw the carpet swelling in these slow surreal circle shapes. Woke everyone up and within 30 mins we were climbing on the roof with the dogs. When the water subsided for the first time we got down and weirdly the kitchen floor looked exactly like this little rectangle dish I’d made. The swirly clay i had been experimenting with the night before turned out to be some kind of premonition when I saw the way the silt left patterns after the water drained away.
It’s like we had these warnings signs but didn’t notice until after. The next week felt like chaos. But amongst it all I kept these pieces I made safe even though they kept being moved around and I’d find things stacked on top. They became so important to me.
After the flood I found myself trapped in a kind of shutting down and a complete lack of self care. It’s hard to do things when you’re constantly moving around and not in your own space I find that when I am stressed I freeze up and the smallest things become stressful. It took me a while to acknowledge that I was processing a trauma. Especially because so many people had it much worse. In the days that were a kind of limbo waiting to figure out the next moves I was lucky enough to have my studio to escape to and I set to work on a collection inspired by the toxic swirls of silt. Clay got me out of bed, out of my head and spirally thoughts. It temporarily would soothe my fried nervous system and energised me when I would wake up with sadness and anxiety in the middle of the night. I felt overwhelmed with mixed emotions and gratitude for all the friends and complete strangers that came together and held us and our community. I felt that realisation of how hard it’s been and your cells are holding all of this stress and are about to fall apart. Like when you feel seen because someone acknowledges what’s been hard but it’s your inner self doing it for you. I made these hands in a time when I didn’t have a home and all I wanted was to go home - wherever that was? A sense of ‘home’ is so important to our souls and not only do these hands represent a therapeutic and creative response to a hard time, they also help to create a sense of home in any place by inspiring a small moment of peace and self care.
The many hands that united and held us. Landscapes forever changed. Hearts swelling. A village has gone through an initiation. Clay is the one thing keeping me grounded. I go to sleep every night with swirls dancing across my eyeballs. I want to go home.
Life and art can never be separated. What other purpose is there in life but to create and use creativity to honour the miracle of this earth and of life.
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