A Year in the Life of a Field by Sam Francis | Field Post #1

The first Field Post by Sam Francis in response to an archival multi-disciplinary project based on the creative documentation of a ‘year in the life of a field’ by Lizzie Cox, at Arnolfini, in 1981.

Read full details of A Year in the Life of a Field here

 

[  vernal equinox ]
20.3.21 | 9:37am

at St. Audries Bay undressed in layer stripes I enter the water timed in blue : in green
imagining a field, a life lived in colour

| m e m o r y      t r a c e s |

*Lizzie Cox’s studio, March 2021

through the buzz songs of others
a place(s) in relation to a person
(and/or the other way around)
              | here | gone |  real |
shrouded in chock-full drawers, glutted boxes
footsteps: new-old, just-out, in-out, about
               alive | a life | oh!
stitched myths told lithe through grazing fabric
cracked orange slashed earth
                a field far more | less ordinary
than what. my ears hear for all of this,
eyes all a vigor, hands in sight

 

many
conversations
are
taking
place
here
in/side
this
reddened
land

*earth cuts i, at Nettlecombe, shot on 35mm, March 2021

 

A FIELD n.

 

shul n. track (Tibetan)

“a mark that remains after that which made it has passed by – a footprint, for example. A path is a shul because it is the impression in the ground left by the regular tread of feet.” (Solnit, 2005)

*’Field’ slide transparency, Lizzie Cox’s studio, March 2021

 

 

 

 

= equal =

               light | dark

*earth cuts ii, at Nettlecombe, shot on 35mm, March 2021

[ b e n e a t h    t h i s ]

      _______here_______

| then | now |

1:2 becomes 3:4

[ rhythm ]

feet | seasons

[ a spring in her  step ]

 

* line  colours at Nettlecombe, shot on 35mm, March 2021

At Nettlecombe, woken by a commune of ravens
overhead. Beneath a dawned yawn of rumbling,
tumbling oaks, verdant with lichen
pale gold, ripened moss chests.

Brown of root-earth-systems prop up
green dwellings of under-grassy-land,
hold of hand.
an utterance

100 thistles at Nettlecombe, March 2021

Many conversations (have) take(n) place in this place

Veering up-down, 1:2 under-hollow-foot,
without pause.
3:4 over-jagged land.

Echo-trace thrills on the chill breeze, endless routes
trill in cheek by jowl.

What now is then seen, past, trailing, continuous.

100 creeping thistles grow,
slow down low. Just a touch high.
a long intonation

  

endnote:

Here it is that I begin a year-long exploration of a work and a person, a place(s); part 1:4 in seasons.  Discovering a life lived in colour through the fall of footsteps, the brush of a hand, the breath of a rich life told through the voices of others. A visit, discovery, a family so warm.  Of a  life lived in a barn, then a chapel. A certain field. A studio, and a life lived of love, art, and work.

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