In June 2014 four of us went to look for the source of the Tweed.
Back in the studio I was interested in exploring how we remember a place and what we remember about it through movement improvisation.
Below are a selection of short pieces of writing that came out of these improvisations.
The writings are illustrated by images made by Tim Rubidge at the source by pressing paper into the peat.
Imagine a path following along a curve.
And the imagining.
It was a green – veined white, its wings, tributaries of a river, flowing towards the source.
Who was the person to first put their hand into Tweed?
No, it wasn’t me.
One of the others.
And we listened
And we listened
What did you hear?
You heard it even though you couldn’t see it?
You see it through the listening.
What else did you hear?
There was a silence between the sound of the river and the song of the lark.
A sound. A silence . A song. What else did you hear?
We found something.
A peat bog,
A curve in the landscape.
Somewhere to sit.
I didn’t draw but one of us drew.
One of us dipped the paper into peat.
Later on I drew that scar.
I went with paper
I sat down on the edge.
I pressed the paper against it.
I used my fingertips to press even more.
It was a tracing, the print of a texture.
I wondered, should I do it a second time?
Don’t repeat anything, I thought.
What do you call the colour of peat?
What do you remember?
I remember it was kind of emerging.
Is that emerging or kind of emerging?
It’s not definable.
I wrote those words in my notebook.
Should I have written there is no source as such?
June 5th 2014