Nothing is more fundamentally important than our biological existence. When that existence is threatened we cannot fully exist. We retreat indoors, our societies collapse with unsurmountable fear. Despite its importance, everyday we choose to ignore the blueprints of our existence. We choose to exist in a peculiar, unnatural way. Every aspect of our biological existence is flowing and cyclical. Be that our cardiovascular system, nervous system, digestive system or ecological systems. We function only through cyclical flows. There is nothing linear about the the Earth and the species that inhabit her. Linear existence is an alien concept that detaches us from our most basic biology. Thus, waste should not exist. Waste is an invention of people and societies who deem themselves to be separate from the systems from which we were created.
Sticks and stones may my break bones, but, I wonder, can they break my bones in clothes?
God save the perfectly evolved gracious blue blooded Horseshoe crab. May they reign for another 450 million years.
A human shell has been walking due north and leaves behind their footprints. Based on the small size of the footprints, the human shell can be assumed to be young. They may have been walking towards the river, to bathe.
Two colourless shell frogs are seen sitting on their green-purple paper lily pads, leaning across to kiss. The kiss of a colourless shell frog has the power to transform one into a princess shell.
A pair of face stones fall in love at first sight. Sadly They cannot show us their smiles, because they are only young face stones and have not yet learnt how.
Creatures of our world
'Water circulates around the globe, flowing through our bodies and spreading to the rest of the world. If we were capable of reading this information contained in the memory of water, we would read a story of epic proportions' - The hidden messages in water, Masaru Emoto.
Here an elderly mother tree leans on her daughter for comfort as they share moss stories.
A river carries topographical stories in foam shapes floating on her surface.
A Roman horse pities a heartbroken Durotrigian girl. Imagined. Durweston chalk and brick ink on black card.
Little deer. Sculpted by human hands from the Earth under the streams foot.
A wave-top fungus sleeps, dreaming deeply about how it will save the world.
Here, a rock pretends to be a mushroom. Or maybe it is a mushroom dressed as a rock. It is difficult to tell as the disguise is fairly advanced.
This ancient squiggly line has gathered years worth of stories. She has collected countless tales from the people who have passed by her. There is a bulge in her belly where she has saved the footprint of an unknown creature. A century ago, a large stone fell into her side and hurt her. Everyday, without fail, she tells this story. She will not let it be forgotten. She is somewhat like a slug. Unknowingly, she has left a trace of messages and memories in slime behind her. If one looks closely at the wrinkles on the face of the Earth and her fields, it can be distinguished where she slithered in her childhood. She cannot help but leave a wrinkle where she used to slither.
She sits at the base of another ancient creature, a hill that was sculpted by the Durotrigians. When they were around, her squiggly line used to squiggle a little more to the right but now it squiggles left where she has been for a while. She may choose to move back, nothing is stopping her. She is more wise and far more capable than most things. Creatures are known to fall for her spell and become infatuated and obsessed with her. The Romans fought with the Durotrigians over her and eventually stole the sculpted hill creature from them because they were in love with the squiggly line and could not bear to leave her side. They would be heartbroken and useless without her. Later, more humans fell in love with her and decided that they must follow her and her squiggly line to create a human carrying train to take them away from their sculpted hill creature. That train did not survive, but she lives on to tell and retell the sad story of her twin squiggle, the human carrier's, short life.
A defeated Durotrigian, arms sore from the hill sculpting. Imagined. Durweston oak gall ink on white paper.