Well, here I am back after some weeks of silence: after spending our late ‘summer’ holiday in Cornwall and weaving three days on a bridge as part of ANTI Contemporary Arts Festival in Koupio, Finland. Cornwall charmed me again with it’s gorgeous coast-line, ever changing weather, stone sites and earth that somehow feels magnetic, deep, strong and welcoming.
Then ‘Red crossing’- a single red thread woven over a bridge, back and forth over three days, gradually transforming the bridge into something else: a sculpture, a ‘line of joy’ or a ‘red route home’, a ‘light in the dark’, as people called it. I felt happy and privileged to be there on this bridge, surrounded by stunning nature, ever-changing weather and glorious autumn light, meeting so many people and hearing stories, questions, vignettes.
How to condense this experience into some scibblings?
Maybe just some distilled snapshots:
The sound of the bells of my costume clinking against the barrister, like ship bells, creating a steady rhythm, a base note, accompanying me on my long walk;
The feeling of the thread running through my hands, eventually becoming like an extension of me;
The old man who found a spider on the red thread and brought it to me saying: ‘there’s another weaver!’ – and indeed this is the closest I have felt to a weaver: single pointed repetitive action, purposeful layering, building… I loved the simplicity of it! I also met some ‘real’ weavers on the bridge who told me how much this reminded them of preparing the loom; except for me all this WAS the woven piece, the fabric;
The crossers: streams of fit Nordic walkers with their sticks walking purposefully and very fast, many of them older; the number 1 bus, crossing many times on Friday, delivering and picking up from Rönö island, waving and smiling at every crossing; the police in their truck, the huge blonde police man saying how much he enjoyed the festival, being able all day to drive around patrol but catch some art on the way!
A fifteen year old boy who told me how he grew up on the small island opposite Rönö and how before the bridge was there they had to row to school and in winter cross on skates. There was a special time every year, when the ice would be too dangerous to cross and the rowing was not possible yet, so they were stuck with three week’s worth of homework! They even had a special finish word for this in-between time;
A newly wed couple who had read in the local paper about the ‘red bridge’ came especially, smiling broadly into the wedding photographer’s lens and wanting to pose with me;
The older women who went home again bringing back a pedometer for me as a present, to count my steps!
Then there was the woman who lives on Rönö island, which is the island that the bridge links with Kuopio, who offered me coffee at her home; I thanked her and told her that I wasn’t able to leave the bridge- so she turned up two days later with a basket full of tea, coffee, freshly baked sweets called ‘pulla’, infused with cardamon and she laid the table in one of the sitting areas, shortly before the end of the performance on Sunday! What a wonderful surprise! It was utterly joyful and celebratory and a big crowed gathered. A bit later we walked together on the bridge, while I was still weaving and she told me how she was deeply moved by this piece bringing ‘life and something joyful to the bridge’; then she shared the tragedy of a friend’s son who, only 21 years old had jumped from the opposite side of the bridge about two years ago…
The performance created its own ending; I was meant to end at 4pm on Sunday; at around three when people gathered around the pulla and tea, I put a big wool ball aside for a moment to speak to someone. When I turned back, I saw the ball like a florescent buoy floating on the dark water, a thin thread tying it to the bridge- it had fallen, jumped, made its way to the island! There was a moment of silence, a sharp in-breath. We watched the ball float further and further away, the tread moving slightly in the wind…so beautiful, so fragile; eventually it disappeared from our view. I don’t know whether it reached the island or sunk, but the red thread leading into the water remained until the next day. I remember the strange weight when pulling it slightly, this mysterious line leading to another story, leading down somewhere else…
One single thread, thin and fragile, woven over three days 130 deep, crossing after crossing created an impact over time, a field of red, a line clearly visible even from afar, stopping people in their tracks. I heard ‘kaunis’, beautiful! so many times! I had not considered that this would bring so much joy and happiness to people!
Also there was a sense of tapping into something old, archetypal , Ariadne’s thread, the Nornes, spinning the thread of life, red, endless stream of life, blood, life force and people connecting with this somewhere, somehow.
At the end of the second day my legs started to buckle after I had spend eight hours weaving the lower part of the bridge, continuously kneeling down, leading to a ‘John Wayne on eggshells’ walk for the rest of the time!
I had two wonderful assistants, Taina and Tania who tirelessly translated, taught me about the Fins and Finish history and at 5 each day the sauna was ready for me in Taina’s house- a beautiful and invaluable life and muscle safer!!!
Shortly before flying back on Monday I went out to the bridge again, this time in my blue coat and without my wig. I met an older man who told me in German about what had happened here: ‘there was a woman on the bridge making this for three days; its not normal, but its beautiful!’ This left me smiling inside with a good feeling and a good motto!
I am curious where ‘Red Crossing’s red thread will take me!
