Assemblages

residency and group show, Lichtensteig (CH)

 

I go to the river to fetch water. 

There is a place halfway up the hill towards Brunnadern where lots of thyme grows. I enjoy walking there and sitting down in the field to pick herbs. My pace slows from a purposeful walking pace to one of searching and feeling. At first, I see a green sea, grass. The sea we call “grass” is a beautiful array of different low-growing plants. I have to slow my pace, move my body closer to the earth and focus my eyes to distinguish the different plants. Once my eyes have adjusted, as they do to darkness, I see a world map of species. I am looking for thyme. At first it takes a while, but after some time my eyes lead me from one clump of thyme to another. I try to pick sparingly and feel guilty when I pick more than one sprig at a time. I feel an intense connection with the plant and my carelessness makes me aware of my actions. Picking the thyme is the first step in the collaboration I am entering into with the plant. Whether the plant agrees to its transformation remains unknown. 


By getting to know and recognise the plant well, I have noticed that I have a loving connection with thyme. I love its smell and taste and use it very often in the kitchen. The leaves are delicate and the network of stems and roots is strong. It is a sturdy plant that can withstand knocks and cold, yet looks so lovely with its small leaves and flowers. That is why I like to take my time when picking it, as if it were a moment to grow closer to each other, to get acquainted, to ask permission, to acknowledge each other. 


Picking takes a while. It is difficult for me to estimate when I have enough. In the context of photography, this action slows down the whole process. For me, the boundaries between what photography is and what it is not are now blurring a little. Can picking thyme be compared to taking pictures (for example, of that same thyme)? In the whole process of mapping, the boundaries between what is being mapped and what the map itself is become blurred. I wonder what role photography plays here, even though it seems to be the pivotal figure in all actions. I photograph the forest, I develop with the forest and with the river, I print with the forest? On the forest and in the forest? Can I see all this as mapping my environment and my actions within it? 


I also pick weeds: nettles, ground ivy and mint to make tea.