There was no particular time chosen and I stayed open to possibility. I kept a pad of paper and pen with me along with Alexa's pdf which I'd printed out for guidelines. I knew we were going to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park and I envisaged that I'd take time out to try this exercise whilst sat taking refreshments. But as it happened, I found myself having a pause before then and grabbed the opportunity to make detailed notes on those few moments instead.
The resulting text I wrote up after I returned home and used in the above digital layout is as follows...
Saturday 15th September 2012
I’m sat on a cool white, minimalist bench in the centre of the exhibition hall of the Yorkshire Sculpture Park. The Spanish artist, Joan Miro’s work is on display. I’m fascinated by his paintings and use of bold brush strokes combined with the limited palette of bright accents he uses. I’m also inspired by how the same themes are explored and repeated in his works, how an idea is worked over, and consistently delved into.
Nick & I look at art individually and then come together to discuss afterwards. We rarely walk round together. He’s in the second room, with his ipad, looking up on google, more information on the artist. My feet are tingling from all the walking we’ve been doing and I’m grabbing the opportunity to sit and enjoy this moment in time.
I hear shuffling of feet, all the other patrons in the hall. There’s a general low murmur of noise, people talking, but I don’t hear any particular words, just the white noise of it. It’s soothing, fitting, expected. There’s a child shuffling it’s feet, then someone sneezes. A mother decides to sit down next to me, with her two children. There’s a whiff of soiled pants and my tranquil state is interrupted by the noise and fuss this woman brings with her. She’s constantly chatting to the two boys, who are animated and instructing them to draw on their pieces of paper. She’s whittering non-stop whilst I concentrate on my task of writing, knowing that she unfortunately is a part of my moment. I mustn’t blank her out. The father is hovering with a rucsac, hoping I’ll move. I don’t.
We’ve picked a perfect day to visit this park. There’s a beautiful blue sky and the sun is out in full force. The bench I’m on is right in front of a large wall of glass. The heat from the sun, is warming on my back. I went out dressed for colder conditions, but have stripped off my jumper and am sat in an all grey ensemble of jeans and polo shirt.
My camera is sat by my side. It’s away from my normal comfort zone. I usually have it strapped to me, so no chancer can walk by and steal it. I feel it should be safe here but that level of discomfort is there subconsciously. Nick has come out of the room in front of me, so I rise, taking my satchel and camera with me and walk with him to the next room. I look briefly behind me and there is the father sat in the space I left.
It was definitely an interesting experience to sit and reflect on a singular moment and one which I shall hope to repeat if Alexa prompts us next month. It may even help me to focus and be more in the present.
And before I go, here's a couple more photos from my day at the park...
The Gormley is back but situated on a different tree stump this time. There's also a new footpath around the lake opened up where this now stands, which was begging to be explored.
One of the Miro sculptures on display.
And a new sculpture to us, found on the lakeside trail.
I hope everyone else has had a creative and fun weekend. Pxx