The collaboration…my bit on the side We Are At Home…
Join artists Lucy Read and Laura Reynolds for some R&R as they explore their fascination and creative connection with theholding space (Winnicott).
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We are at Home at Kaya Festival
August 2015
We are at Home in Bed again
Applied arts un. ltd. residency May – June 2015
Two Weeks at the Table with Laura Reynolds as part of our collaboration We are at Home
October 2014
Exploring the narrative of the Kitchen table as a holding space and site for creativity.
Two Weeks In Bed with Lucy and Laura
Creative Bubble, Swansea May 2014
We sit across from each other. A head board on both ends, taking us back to the grandparents in bed in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Spending a long time on this island, this bed afloat, makes us ache. Ache in our bones, joints, in our memories. The floor is not lava as it was when I played as a child, the floor is just dirty. Some ants crawl through the gap under the door.
Books pile up on the tables beside us. Deplete, as they are replaced by knitting, tea and food. Replenishing our thirst to make, to create, to consume, to devour knowledge, memory and ideas. Ten years sit between us as well as this duvet of pockets and scribbles. Surrogate sisters, sitting in for the siblings that live across land and sea. Perhaps more polite than that of blood relations, but that is ok, you can choose your friends.
Terrors she calls us, like naughty children. Don’t worry we have included those stories too, wait to you look under the covers.
People join us, stay for a while. Even the crazies. Some wish to observe from the outside, voyeurs of the space that we have created, too reserved to let their guard down and jump in. Those who get in embrace the holding space, we hear their stories. They recall nostalgic thoughts, conversations leap from pleasantries, to memories, to politics, to plans for the future. We make connections. We are influenced by the things we watch, the music in the background, the things we say in bed.
Before we break apart, we let loose. Sock clad feet scrabble on to the bed. Giggles bubble up, with every bounce we get higher. Maybe the floor can be laver again, the bed a fort. A transitional space, a space ‘in-between’.
L A Read 