Spots of Time

Spots of Time


After spending a couple of nights in Hong Kong, I joined on to a small group to travel around the east of China with. The travelling was all going to be overland, and we had a loop planned that would take us up to Beijing through Xi'an, through Shanghai and back down to HK. My next few posts will cover the last part of this 3 month stint as a sort of self-initiated artist-travels-slash-residency. 

Most of the travelling was done on these wonderful, extremely spacious and totally not filled-with-the-kind-of-men-you-want-next-to-you-spitting-and-smoking-two-inches-from-your-bed overnight trains.

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Eventually ending up in Yangshuo, we met our local guide, Lucy. She was one bad rekcufrehtom. She owned about half of the town and had some seriously deep routes in all of the local villages.

She even took us round her own village. It was incredibly moving to hear her talk about growing up in 80s China. For every negative, there was also a positive - some things she said I couldn't quite believe. That, and the Chairman Mao poster plastered up towering over everyone in her parents' living room.

I have paired a visual sort-of-essay with a Wordsworth (poet, very good) extract from book 12 of The Prelude about memory, and what it can do for you when you're having a moment. Albeit a specific type of memory, I have chosen this to focus on obtaining fresh perspectives when looking retrospectively at something (whether an event, travels, a walk, or even a plant pot). 

Walking around with a non-obtrusive GoPro, these stills bring more than just memories alive. When reading through the photographs, make sure you pay attention to the composition, the lines, the colours, the actions, the history. They are not holiday snaps. You should read them like a poem. Take the time to look at them other than with the eyes for a photograph. 

 

 

There are in our existence spots of time,
That with distinct pre-eminence retain
A renovating virtue, whence – depressed
By false opinion and contentious thought,
Or aught of heavier or more deadly weight,
In trivial occupations, and the round
Of ordinary intercourse – our minds
Are nourished and invisibly repaired;
A virtue, by which pleasure is enhances,
That penetrates, enable us to mount,
When high, more high, and lifts us up when fallen.

 


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