If everything is moving where is here?

Critical Practice Paper - MA Drawing. UAL Wimbledon London

Helen Goodwin

Introduction

As I tread upon the topography of place in the environments in which I choose to mark-make, I consider the ever shifting landscapes beneath my feet. While my body moves in space and across the surface of place, leaving my temporary prints, I choose to create my own marks in response to these chosen locations. I consider Sprackland’s (2012) account of ephemeral archaeology. She describes seeing footprints which have been covered and so preserved in the Holocene sediments from the Mesolithic and mid-Neolithic time. Due to the shifting of sediments, sands and tides, they are once again revealed, briefly, before the incoming tide finally and permanently takes them. I am always reminded of the shifting earth as the pull of the tide licks the edges of this island.

Anthropologists Ingold and Vergunst (2008a) write about landscapes having temporal existence, and suggest how one footprint in front of the other can be seen to have a narrative thread.

I am interested in the impermanence of these marks I make, and how indeed nothing is permanent. How we create our own stories and threads through the landscape of our lives. How we may, according to Rebecca Solnit, step outside of the stories we tell about ourselves and others, in order to become who we really are: ‘....one person’s story becomes the point of entry to larger territories.’ (2013, 194)

Art critic Lucy Lippard (1997) writes about how she weaves herself and her own experiences into her book, The Lure of the Local, as her lived experiences are central to her writing about the subject of place. I too, from time to time, weave the thread of my own story into this paper, aspects of a life I have lived so far, staying as true as possible to my personal history as I touch and mark-make in the shifting landscapes and locations I have chosen to re-visit, those that hold meaning or in which I have found a sense of familiarity. My experience of living in different continents, and then my subsequent return to my birth land, my feelings of personal

1 displacement as well as sudden close family deaths are also explored. Finally, I find how I have been looking for that ‘fixed point’ only to realise that such a point cannot exist. The exploration and weaving together of this story is like a thread, a red-veined thread from which others lead off but are dependent on that main one red artery. It is also a thread of my practice which my research has led me to disentangle.

Japan Tsunami 2011

Previously I had been looking at what binds us to place, the fixed points we look for and our sense of belonging. Whilst on an arts residency in Japan, in 2012, I visited the Tohoko region which had been devastated by the 2011 tsunami. I observed how people were re-looking for their fixed points amidst such devastation in order to re-build their homes, and communities, even in the knowledge of future tsunamis. Seeing such devastation, homes and lives so swiftly swept away, made me realise impermanence in its truest sense, how we cannot depend upon any fixed point in this forever shifting world. The visit also made me stare loss in the face on a scale that was hard to fully comprehend; one that was painful but unexpectedly cathartic, due to my own experience of sudden personal loss, which has continued to have an impact upon my practice.

Yuko Mihara offers prayers to her ancestors in front of a family Buddhist altar inside her house. Fukushima prefecture, Japan. Image: Franck Robichon

2

The Fukushima nuclear power plant has adversely affected the immediate area and has since had a 12 mile exclusion zone surrounding it. The residents from there are still displaced, living in temporary accommodation, yet wait to hear if it is safe, wishing desperately to return to the place which still holds memory for them. Maybe it is only the memory which is relatively fixed on place, but even this changes as we continue to weave our own stories.

Wearing white protective masks and suits, Yuzo Mihara, left, and his wife Yuko pose for photographs on a deserted street in the town of Namie, Fukushima prefecture, Japan, on Feb. 22, 2013. Image: Franck Robichon

Material Culture

I was born in England but for over a decade of my life I have lived intermittently in a series of diverse cultures: Scandinavia, Eastern Europe and more recently East Asia. In order to make sense of these locations and explore my engagement with each new physical space I have often collected local material culture.

At the end of the last century, I went to live and work in the south of China in a culture so very unfamiliar, a place in which I found few reference points at first. Each time I felt I had got hold of some semblance of understanding of this new place it appeared, as quickly, to slip away from me. It was here I found a much stronger desire, than I had in Europe, to collect local

3 material culture. By surrounding myself with a collection of objects I believe was my way of helping to reference my new place through the physicality of the objects used in the everyday or for specific cultural purposes. They helped me provide meaning to place and form some sense of narrative.

I have always used these collections in my practice. Artist Cornelia Parker says that ‘man has created cultural artifacts that embody that culture...... I like using real materials with a history.....cultural things to hand, the things which are ubiquitous in our society to make a mark with’ (Massen and Southern 2011,56). Lorimer and Lund describe collecting as a ‘propensity peculiar to humans’ (2008,185) and ‘a most British sort of preoccupation’ (2008,198). They describe this in the context of people who keep collections of particular Scottish summits climbed, where the actual mountain being too big to collect physically, instead collections of tables are kept, recording the walks and climbs achieved.

Whilst in China I built up a varied collection including paper, ceremonial masks, costumes and also carved wooden panels from houses being knocked down to make way for new roads and modern apartment blocks, due to the fast paced development and so-called beautification of China. I was equally fascinated by the paper and cloth clothes made to be burnt for the ancestors. They were culturally very different to anything I had seen before and researching further I realised the importance of these objects for the funerals of the deceased as well as their being burnt at significant times to keep the ancestors content in the afterlife, so to protect and look after the living.

I have reflected on how examining objects can help understand locality and therefore help form a connection to place which in turn has sometimes helped to feed into my own sense of the belonging to place. But anthropologist Andrew West writes about how ‘material culture can challenge fixed ideas, support alternative ways of seeing and understanding the world....they demand attention and investigation’ (2011,1). Also that, ‘Different meanings and values are attributed to objects in different places so it is important to identify how things are “inscribed with meaning in and across different cultural contexts”’ (West 2011,3, citing Henneare 2005). By using material culture from other places in my practice, I am interested in how I may convey a connection to the meaning of the object as well as how it may be re-

4 interpreted within a different cultural context. I consider this when combining material culture and the fabric of location, such as soils, chalk, sand and water which have become linked and entwined in my practice: for example, combinations such as a Chinese ancestral jacket and chalk from the edge of the English landscape. I recognise both the object and the fabric of landscape are both to do with memory, loss and re-generation: memory and loss of place and person, and the destruction through burning of the material object, the ancestral jacket, which in turn brings re-generation to the living.

Ancestral suit for burning, cloth, South China; own collection.

On my return to the UK in 2007 I was surrounded by the familiar and objects with meanings I could read, so therefore I no longer felt the desire to collect, although in 2012 my fascination was re-awoken on the arts residency to Japan. There I again became interested, specifically in materials to do with protection and loss. Ancestral worship, as practiced in Japan had been in decline until the 2011 tsunami which created so much human and physical devastation. This experience fed back into the use of objects I had collected when living in Asia, that were made as offerings to be burnt for the dead. 5

Edge of Landscapes - erosion

In recent years my practice has taken me to work mainly on the edge of landscapes, to coasts and cliffs, places which are experiencing erosion of some kind.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-kent-21313524

As these places erode, settlements fall off the edge, leaving people and communities displaced. Two decades ago I lost a small wooden dwelling to the sea; I managed to hold onto it for five years before it was washed over the cliff due to the erosion in this particular part of the Holderness coastline in East Yorkshire. This made me keenly aware of how communities are forced to re-settle and share a sense of the impermanence of place; how the earth is forever re-forming and moving, and yet there seems to be an invisible thread that appears to connect us to `fixed-place’ through the stories and memories we weave into localities.

The crumbling of the soil where my house once sat revealed fossils and the hidden history and geology beneath the surface strata stayed with me and also my interest in the ‘edge’.

The Arctic tundra is forever moving and according to present environmental research, also melting. The south east of the UK is slowly tilting downwards towards the sea as the ‘north west of Britain is still rising in relief after the removal of the great weight of ice’. (Massey 2006,137). So, nowhere is static and fixed, place actually continues to shift. When I bought my 6 wooden hut on the edge of a cliff I knew it to be vulnerable, yet there seems something in the human psyche which makes us believe things are as they are, place is fixed, stable and permanent, and surely-it-won’t-happen-to-me, will it? It did, it was taken by a spring tide, now there is not a trace left as the edge of this landscape is continually being re-shaped.

Cliff erosion. Skipsea, East Yorkshire where my house once stood. Image: Helen Goodwin 2012

Massey writes about the carved out landscapes, that landscapes are not timeless; they are created by natural movement and have been carved out from previous ice ages: ‘What this geographical history tells us is that this ‘natural’ place to which we appeal for timelessness has of course been (and still is) constantly changing’ (2006,133).

Working directly on the edges of landscape and with the material of erosion has made me consider the continual shifting of place, the history of the landscape and its geological formation, and why I choose such locations to collect materials which have fallen directly from such edges in order to create work.

Whilst collecting chalk for a piece (later to be returned to the sea) from a recent fall at Birling

7

Gap in Sussex, I met Assistant Ranger of the National Trust, Walther Lee, who later provided information concerning the current debates about local cliff erosion, compiled by National Trust staff working on the conservation of this area. In summary, the cliff erosion provides a ‘key site for studying peri-glacial morphology and chalk landscape evolution’ (Jarman et al 2013,3) because in Birling Gap, there exists a complete cross-section of a dry valley, such a cross-section being unique in Britain. Dry valleys were formed during the last ice age when water was frozen beneath the land, surface ice melted, and the melt water cut into the landscape forming valleys. When the ice beneath the ground eventually melted, due to it sitting on chalk, a permeable rock, the water above could sink and join the underground flow. This left what are now called dry valleys. Since the forming of these valleys, chalk, which was formed on the sea bed during the late Cretaceous epoch 87/84 million years ago, has risen from the sea through tectonic movement of the earth to form the cliffs we now see and which are eroding back into the sea.

In the year 2000 local residents put forward a proposal for sea defences to be built in order to prevent further cliff erosion and the eventual loss of their homes which, over time, have grown closer to the edge, and will eventually be lost to the sea. Various organisations including Natural England, The National Trust and The Sussex Downs Conservation Board, decided collectively such coastal reinforcements ‘would have an adverse effect on the site’s geological and geomorphologic features by concealing the dry valley and affecting coastal processes’ (Jarman et al 2013,3). It has therefore been decided to allow the natural erosion to occur. I imagine not an easy outcome for local residents.

It is difficult to cut the thread of memory which attaches us to place as parts of the British coastline erode into the sea and re-form. This continues to have a huge impact on communities and those whose homes have been lost or have the potential to fall over the edge. There are still a few houses which exist on the edge of the cliff where I lost my small dwelling to the sea, and though all will eventually fall over the edge, people continue to buy the fields behind where their original houses stood in order to rebuild, or they buy abandoned houses which still hang on precariously to the edge; I wonder if it is in the hope the new occupants will outlive future cliff falls?

8

Over the years such loss of landscape has caused forced displacement of communities as homes have had to be demolished as they become too close to the edge. Today as I write I hear on the news that a house in Devon has just sold at a fraction of its original value as there is a risk it may fall off the edge, the same as part of the neighbour’s has done.

BBC News Devon. 26th June 2013

Displacement – Diaspora of place and people

Displacement, diaspora also occur not only through circumstances of nature but also social and political situations, and as our personal relationships, interests or employment carry us to move, migrate and shift our ‘place’ in this forever increasing mobile world. Displacement has increasingly become a topic of research because of global migration due to climatic and human induced disasters, internal conflict, or economic reasons.

Whilst living in China I experienced my own sense of diaspora living in such a different culture, but was also aware of the vast displacement of local populations as the country was going through, and continues to go through, such an incredible, fast pace of change. Men, women and children, were forced to re-locate as their houses and whole streets were being demolished at a hurried rate which increased even more rapidly during the construction of the 2008 Beijing Olympics, the preparations for which were well underway in the year I left the 9 city. I returned to the UK and re-located to the south of England at the time the London Olympic preparations began, an interesting dichotomy. In China I was employed by a rights-based non-government organisation. I worked with disadvantaged children who, due to various personal circumstances, had been forced to abandon their family homes, often ending up living on the city streets, thus becoming displaced from their home and community. Meanwhile the controversy surrounding the forced flooding of the Yangtze River, the ‘Three Gorges Dam Project,’ was also being contested, mostly outside of China by global environmentalists, politicians and various academic institutions.

Beijing Olympics - reconstruction The Centre on Housing Rights and Evictions, in Geneva, predicted that about 1.5 million residents of Beijing would be displaced by the time of the opening the Olympics, many of them evicted against their will. Whole neighbourhoods had to be relocated, including many settlements which had existed since the Qing Dynasty (1644-1911 CE) or before, as the old houses were demolished, making way for wider roads, and the expansion of the metro system. At the time I talked to local residents who were forced to move, often to the outer parts of the city, who shared quietly with me their concerns of leaving behind familiar territory and communities, ancestral homes where generations of their families had lived. They spoke of a strong sense of belonging and attachment, which threaded them into the very fabric of the place they were being forced to leave.

10

Character ‘chai’, meaning to demolish, Beijing, China, 2007. Image: Helen Goodwin

Iain Sinclair writes about how present day Beijing ‘has changed more in the past thirty years than the previous thousand. It’s a huge change’ (2011,156)

Mark making with street children in China Many of the children with whom I worked in China had ended up in sheltered or secure accommodation, often in places which held no sense of personal territory. Through discussion with them it was clear the children wished to define their space; I supported them to design and complete their own mural paintings by making marks directly on the walls of these

temporary shelters.

11

Mural painted by Pan Jun Bo, Yunnan, China 2001. Image: Helen Goodwin

As a consequence of their mark-making they became more settled in their new environment and it also helped change their relationship with staff. Their mark-making also opened up new dialogue amongst their peer group which appeared to help them feel more connected to their place of shelter. Many of the images could be perceived as idyllic places, some related to their sense of home from rural areas.

The Three Gorges Dam Project – Resettlement The completed Dam is intended to provide hydro-electricity annually equivalent to fifteen nuclear power plants. It was also supposed to help manage the persistent periodic flooding along the banks of the Yangtze, which has taken thousands of lives over the centuries. (Gleick 2009)

According to Peter Gleick of World Water, originally it was predicted that one million people from 1400 villages and towns would have to move. In many cases this forced resettlement has had dire consequences, for example upon the peasant farmers who have been moved to inferior farming land, upon which their livelihoods still depend. It has since been estimated by 12

World Water that up to six million people may eventually be forced to resettle due to continued landslides and other environmental factors (Gleick 2008/9,145).

Among the economic and other consequences of human displacement, there is also the cultural loss of place which helps us to mark out our territories and sense of belonging in the world, as 8OOO known unexplored archaeological sites have since been flooded. Also, ‘There is increasing concern that people displaced due to construction projects face long term risks of becoming poorer and are also threatened with landlessness, food insecurity and social marginalisation. The early efforts at resettlement at the Three Gorges led to worsening of conditions for many of the already relatively poor rural communities in the region’ (see Gleick 2008/9,145-46).

The Three Gorges Dam, with its many debated pros and cons, has and will continue to have a lasting impact on both a personal and global scale.

Marks, Landscape and Materiality of Place

Beijing based artist Zhuang Hui exhibited as part of an show concerning issues to do with displacement at the Museum of Chicago. Zhuang, inspired by the contentious debate associated with the damming of the Yangtze River, made work by boring a series of deep holes in the ground to mark sites that would eventually be buried under 100 metres of water. He used a Luoyang shovel (a Louyang, a long pole drill invented by tomb robbers in traditional China). Zhuang visited several sites along the Yangtze River that he knew would soon be buried under water from the new reservoir created by the dam construction. (Zhuang 2008). This visit was described as ‘perhaps the last instance of human mark-making upon these pieces of land’ (Foumberg 2008)

13

Longitude 109.88º E and Latitude 31.09º N in April of 1995, Zhang Hui 2008

I am interested in the social commentary of his work, its ephemeral nature, impacted by the passage of time, and also how this connects to humans seeming to have a fundamental need and desire to mark out our place in the world. Another artist, Richard Long, when working directly in landscape makes his marks upon chosen locations. He does this through the trace of his walking and also marking out place using materials of location: his mark making being non- permanent.

I have been collecting and archiving materials from different topographies, such as soils, chalk, sea coal, charcoal, ice, volcanic basalt, from places which have held some significance to me. I have been interested in combining local environmental and cross-cultural material in order to help make sense of the place I had come from and where I was now, as well as the re- interpretation of the objects within a different cultural context.

As I navigate across these spaces I consider my own migrations as my body moves in space leaving its trace through the imprint of my feet as I cross and tread the topography of landscape.

14

For those of us who are able, we carry place from one territory to another without necessarily knowing it, carrying the fabric of place in the soles of our shoes.

Walking and Movement

I have walked extensively in the different terrains I have lived, travelled to and made work in. It is one of my ways of discovering place, moving my body through space, the different sensations which touch my five senses: my relationship between my feet and the world I traverse. ‘Walking can be seen as a narrative process that weaves together time and space because at the same time that stories connect the past and the future they also articulate peoples notions of who they are and where they belong’ (Jackson 1998,177 cited by Lund 2008, 97).

I consider the wider context of walking in my practice when working in landscape. To successfully make I have to feel a connection to the place, I walk the terrain to build a dialogue, as I do my body embodies the space as space embodies me. Sinclair writes about landscape being inside of him ‘not that he is everywhere but everywhere is inside of him’ (2011,194).

Social geographer Yi-Fu Tuan considers the exploration of space through kinaesthesia, sight and touch. He describes examples of very basic movements, being able to kick one’s leg and the ability to stretch, that make us as a person aware of our space.

Karin Lund (2008,97), drawing on ideas from Rebecca Solnit and others, notes how recent studies have recognised the significance of ‘co-ordinated movement in the same direction as a metaphor for the journey through life, a kinetic experience that “knits together time and place….into a vital whole”’.

I consider the movement of my body when working; delineating marks though movement in space, the trace of which exists only for a moment in time and place (the here and now) because as soon as the body moves the delineation of space moves too. I am curious and fascinated with this link to impermanence.

15

When in landscape I move across the space, my senses filled. In the mostly sedentary world we now live, no longer being hunter-gatherers like our ancestors, I enjoy the push of my body in space. I become a part of the place, it me. The artist Chris Drury, local to Sussex, makes work in relation to his walks. Through his constant movement and coping with the elements when working, he speaks of the inner and outer realities becoming a ‘fluid whole’ (Drury 2012,7). I too consider how my body flows and relates to the space, as my body brushes against a cliff edge, my foot sinks into soft mud, the negotiation of my footsteps over a slippery rock, judging how far I can go, hanging my body at different angles. It seems that body and landscape merge into a oneness, my body’s age with its changes sometimes brings me back to the awareness of the separateness of my body in place, or the blood released when I lose that ‘connection’, that ‘fluidity’, and scrape a hand, or squeeze my body through a crevice too tight...it is then I may lose that `fluid whole’. Literally by putting my body into the making of my work I begin to feel the Genius Loci (essence of place).

An artist who literally places herself into her work to create her marks is Fabienne Verdier, who lived in China for ten years from the early 1980s when relatively few foreigners were living there and studied with a calligrapher. She was inspired by the continuity and constant motion, as she perceived it, of the scenery which surrounded her, and felt calligraphy to be the perfect way to recreate this motion. Now back in her studio in France, she continues to prepare large canvases on the floor of her studio, with a huge brush larger than herself standing, suspended from the ceiling and manoeuvred by the use of attached bike handles. Her painting encapsulates the sweeping movements of her body caught through the action of the brush across the canvas. The emphasis on the stoke moving through the body is an important component in traditional Chinese calligraphy.

16

Art Plural Gallery 2013. Singapore.Installation V, A, B, C - from the series "Walking / Painting

In the early part of her career the artist Rebecca Horn used body-extensions to create some of her drawings, to explore the equilibrium between body and space. In later works she replaced the human body with kinetic sculptures which take on their own life. She has also worked with materials of alchemy, such as mercury, salt, sulphur and charcoal: ‘The central themes of these works are the flow of life....the passage of time and eventual decay’ (Grosenick 2001,245).

Impermanence and loss

The theme of movement and landscape is taken up in Rachel Lowe's work ‘A letter to an unknown person number 5’ where she explores the issue of loss. Lowe sits in a moving car moving her hand frantically across the glass of the window as she attempts to draw the landscape as it flies past. `…the piece is fundamentally concerned with our need or desire to capture a particular moment in time, the impossibility of ever adequately doing so and the resultant sense of loss…’ (Lowe 1998).

Each movement is impermanent and lost, thus addressing the sense of loss.

The need to record what we are losing or have lost reminds us that marks are in fact products of a specific time pace and made by a particular person or people. Some of these were intended to last and some not: some have been themselves lost and some found. For example 17 drawings from the caves at Lascaux painted over 17,000 years ago, re-found in the 1940s; and the artefacts which have survived and been found/excavated from the last ice age 40,000 – 10,000 years ago, exhibited in London 2013. Some of these artefacts were created but not intended to survive whole; they were made to be destroyed, to be non-permanent (see Cook 2013).

Reindeer drawn onto a reindeer bone, from Ice Age Art at the British Museum in

London 2013

A modern example of impermanent mark-making, which is a feature of everyday life for some in China, is Di Shu, 地书, best translated as ground calligraphy. This is a comparatively recent phenomenon in China, practiced during the past 10 years or so, mainly created by the older generation whose main social places exist within the city parks. Poetry and prose are written on the parks’ pathways and squares, though I have also seen it practiced on the local footpath, possibly places close to the calligrapher’s homes. A long pole is used with a sponge attached at the end cut into the shape of a calligraphy brush. This is dipped in to water rather than ink, the movement of the body travelling through the brush, the water is released, the characters composed and water evaporates leaving perhaps a shadow of itself, only to completely

18 disappear with the next rain falls. An example of ‘being’ in the making and the impermanence of the mark-making.

Di Shu, 地书, Beijing, China. Image: Helen Goodwin 2007

One of the important principles of Buddhist teaching and broad Asian thought is based on impermanence and change (cyclical change), so that ‘no “thing” is the same at this moment as it was one moment ago. Even the “everlasting hills” are slowly being worn away, and every particle of the human body, even the hardest, is replaced every seven years’. Impermanence – ‘annica is cyclical’ (Humphreys 1958,80).

19

Conclusion

This questioning and research process has helped me to untangle the threads of my thinking and provided a more analytical framework for me to read my own mark-making. I had previously felt my work was based very much upon my intuition as I was drawn to specific material and places in the landscape.

I am interested in objects which help give an insight into a particular cultural way of being and thinking. The material objects I was specifically drawn to in China were made to be destroyed; the process of their burning sustains the living ancestors.

There is a thread which connects my use of material culture and my working on the edge of eroding landscapes, with my personal experience of loss of people and observation and knowledge of the displacement of others, as well as my own lack of place due to shifting across lands. We become attached and build our sense of belonging to the topography and community of place, often perceiving both to be fixed. Objects and memory may recreate aspects of the places where we are living and those we have had to leave.

As the landscapes continue to move beneath our feet, as the tundra of the Arctic melts, Britain tilts on its axis and the edges of landscapes erode, as people become displaced and as the cycle of life and death continues, nothing is fixed, all is impermanent.

My movement across lands as well as the process of my making equates with nothing being fixed, the fluidity of everything but how I and others attempt through our marks to catch the moment in time and space. Much of my work is not fixed, lasting for only a specific period before it is walked through or swept away. `“Here”’ is no more (and no less) than our encounter, and what is made of it. It is, irretrievably, here and now. It won’t be the same “here” when it is no longer “now”’ (Massey 2006,139).

20

Di Shu, 地书, Beijing, China. Image: Helen Goodwin 2007

21

BIBLIOGRAPHY Auge, M. 1995 (1992 French edition) Non-places: Introduction to an Anthropology of Supermodernity London: Verso

Baucom, I. 1967 Out of Place Englishness, Empire and Locations of Identity West Sussex: Princeton University Press

BBC 2012 BBC Documentary – Dry Valley http://www.bbc.co.uk/learningzone/clips/gorges- and-dry-valleys/4708.html Accessed July 2013

Blasco, Paloma Gay Y. 2012 `“A wondrous adventure”: mutuality and individuality in Internet adoption narratives’ Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, 18 (2), pp330-348

Buchli,V. (ed) 2002 The Material Culture Reader Oxford: Berg

Cartier, C. and Lew, A, A. 2005 Seduction of Place, Geographical perspectives on globalisation and touristed landscapes. New York: Routledge

Casey, E. S. 1997 The Fate of Place: A Philosophical History Los Angeles: University of California Press

Cohen, A. P. (ed) 1982 Belonging: Identity and Social Organisation in British Rural Cultures Manchester: Manchester University Press

Cook, J. 2013 Ice Age art: arrival of the modern mind London: British Museum Press

Corby, V. 2010 Eva Hesse: Longing, belonging and displacement Vanessa London: I.B. Tauris

Cresswell, T. 2004 Place: a short introduction Oxford: Blackwell publishing

Drury, C. 1998 Silent Spaces London: Thames and Hudson

Drury, C. 2012 ‘’Satchi On Line’’ http://www.saatchionline.com/ChrisD reviewed December 2012 Accessed June 2013

Ford, A. 2011 The Art of Mindful Walking: Meditations on The Path Lewes: Leaping Hare Press

Foumberg J. 2008 New City Art Review Chicago http://art.newcity.com/tag/walsh-gallery/ Accessed July 2013

Gleick, P, H. 2008/9 Three Gorges Dam Project World Water. http://www.worldwater.org/data20082009/WB03.pdf Acccessed June 2013

Gleick, P. 2009 World Water http://www.wcl.american.edu/hrbrief/08/2damconst.cfm

Gosenick, U. 2001 Women Artists in the 20th and 21st Century Cologne: Taschen

Hillier, J. and Rooksby, E. 2002 Habitus: A Sense of Place Vermont: Ashgate

22

Humphreys, C. 1951 (1955 revised edition) Buddhism London: Penguin Books

Ingold, I. and Vergunst J.L. (eds) 2008 Ways of Walking: Ethnography and Practice on Foot Farnham: Ashgate Publishing

Ingold, I. and Vergunst, J. L. 2008a `Introduction’ pp 1-19 in Ingold, I. and Vergunst J.L. (eds) Ways of Walking: Ethnography and Practice on Foot Farnham: Ashgate Publishing

Jamie, K. 2005 Findings London: Sort of Books

Jamie, K. 2012 Sightlines London: Sort of Books

Jarman, R., Dyke, P., Cecil, J., Luxford, Z. and Woodhall, A. 2013 Case Study – Birling Gap: Between a rock and a hard place Sussex: National Trust

King, D.E. (ed) 2010 Middle Eastern Belongings Abingdon: Routledge

Leader, D. 2009 The New Black: Mourning, Melancholia and Depression London: Penguin

Lippard, L.R. 1992(originally 1976) Eva Hesse USA, no place: Da Cap Press (originally New York: New York University Press)

Liappard, L.R. 1997 The Lure of the Local: Senses of Place in a Multicentred Society New York: The New Press

Lorimer, H. and Lund, K. 2008 `A Collectable Topography: Walking, Remembering and Recording Mountains’ pp185-200 in Ingold, T. and Vergunst, J.L (eds) Ways of Walking: Ethnography and Practice on Foot Farnham: Ashgate

Lowe, R. 1998 Rachel Lowe British Council India http://www.homelandsindia.com/Rachel- Lowe Accessed July 2013

Lovell, N. (ed) 1998 Locality and Belonging London: Routledge

Lund, K. 2008 `Listen to the Sound of Time: Walking with Saints in an Andalusian Village’ pp93- 104 in Ingold, T. and Vergunst, J.L. (eds) Ways of Walking: Ethnography and Practice on Foot Farnham: Ashgate

Macfarlane, R. 2007 The Wild Places London: Granta Books

Massen, M. and Southern, J. 2011 Drawing Project: an exploration of the language of drawing London: Black dog publishing

Massey, D. 2005 for space London: Sage

Mirzoff, N. (ed) 2000 Diaspora and Visual Culture: Representing Africans and Jews London: Routledge

Morley, I. 2013 The North (and almost everything in it) London: Bloomsbury Publishing 23

Perec, G. 1997 Species of Spaces London: Penguin Books

Petherbridge, D. 2009 The Primacy of Drawing London: Yale University Press

Robichon, F. 2013 photoblog http://photoblog.nbcnews.com/_news/2013/03/07/17210527- nuclear-refugees-visit-their-home-near-stricken-fukushima-plant?lite Accessed July 2013

Serra, R. 2011 Drawing: A Retrospective Houston: Menil Foundation

Sinclair I. 2011 Ghost Milk: Calling Time On The Grand Project London: Penguin Books

Solnit, R. 2001 Wanderlust: A History of Walking London: Verso

Solnit, R. 2012 `Diary’ London Review of Books, 34 (9), pp34-37

Solnit, R. 2013 The Faraway Nearby London: Granta Publications

Sprackland, J. 2012 Strands: A Year of Discoveries on the Beach London: Jonathan Cape

Tuan, Yi-Fu 1977 Space and Place: the perspective of experience London: Edward Arnold

Tufnell, B. 2006 Land Art London: Tate Publishing

Verdier F. http://www.fabienneverdier.com/painting and http://www.artpluralgallery.com/blog/category/fabienne-verdier/ Accessed June 2013

Walwin, J. and Krokatsis, H. 2006 You’ll Never Know: Drawing and Random Interference London: Hayward Gallery Touring

West, A. 2011 Museums, Colonialism and Identity. A history of Naga Collections in Britain London: Horniman Museum

Zhang, H. 2008 Smart Museum of Chicago, Displacement http://smartmuseum.uchicago.edu/learn/k-12/displacement_handout.pdf 2008 Accessed June 2013

24