Texts
A combination of prose and journal entries. These texts accompany Daisy’s work at exhibition, giving context to her painted pieces and act a form of response to experiences with nature. The texts have developed into documentation of Daisy’s process of learning and developing her own beliefs.
Encounters
Home October 2022
I can feel the cold of the earth pushing through jeans as I kneel in the grass. My hands and then my head go to reach for the ground as well. The grass of the field is cold and damp but right now there’s no where else I feel I can be.
I feel like I’ve lost control and this is what my body is drawn to.
I look up to the view of Leith Hill, dark and cloudy in the distance and I’m reminded of him. I want the feeling of being connected to this place, this field and this view, to make me feel closer to him. Like I am part of something bigger, both of us part of something bigger.
Devon Coast November 2022
Surfing
We walked for forty minutes with the boards to find a deserted rocky shoreline and I am so glad we did.
Being in the sea again is wonderful. I feel happy and free.
The joyful discomfort of being smacked in the face by freezing waves is a sensation I struggle to articulate. After the trial of paddling out behind the white water, sitting on my board looking back at the beach, cliffs and trees behind feels like a reward.
It makes me nervous and excited and, for moments, quite terrified.
I feel forced into existing only in the present moment, and that is something I need and crave.
Dartmoor January 2023
My sodden, scrunched sock is dissipating toward my numb toes.
My shoulders hunch against the wind but my body feels open.
With each breath I feel the cold air hitting my lips before penetrating my mouth, throat and chest.
The frost bites at my face, it feels stiff and tight but I can't help but smile.
I feel calm.
My body is tired and uncomfortable but I feel at peace with the discomfort.
I stand still, grateful to be drinking in the undulating landscape that surrounds me.
Forceful rocks burst out from the soft, curving hills of the moorland.
It feels good to breathe.
The sun emerges from behind a cloud and the water of the lake ahead of me begins to glisten in the light.
The landscape is empty of others.
Their absence makes me feel free.
My mind begins to slow as I focus on this immediate, awesome landscape.
I feel like I belong.
Cumbria April 2023
I feel a sense of contentment, that there is no where else I would rather be. I don’t remember the last time I felt this feeling. This is the happiest I’ve been in a long time.
I’m sitting on a tire swing, half way up a hill, overlooking Lake Windermere then the forest and mountains beyond. I feel genuinely in awe at the beauty of this layered landscape ahead of me.
My body aches, not the usual tense ache emanating from a weight in my chest, but a blissful, tired ache of accomplishment. I’ve spent the last forty-eight hours in beautiful mountains, pushing my body to explore incredible places and I feel proud. The exercise is over till tomorrow and that feels good. I feel so grateful to be where I have.
I think a large part of what I’m feeling is relief, that I am still capable of feeling this joy.
Home May 2023
I’m standing in the orchard, looking out at the wildflowers around me.
I’m drawn to the bunches of tall Oxe-Eye Daisies, reaching up between the long grass.
I feel slightly excited, I haven’t seen these before at home and it makes me happy to think they’ve just naturally sprung up here.
Surely they can't be an annual occurrence, they feel special, or perhaps they’ve been here every year and I just haven’t noticed them.
It’s good to know my home is still able to instil this awe in me.
French Pyrenees August 2023
It’s just indescribable.
One foot in front of the other for days on end. The comprehension of it seemed daunting at first, but now my fears have settled, it’s phenomenal.
I feel overwhelmed, drunk on the sensation of it all.
Home November 2023
Sometimes I have to stick my face in the rain.
But it’s not always raining.
Perthshire March 2024
I’m scared it might stop working. This ability that the wilderness has to restore some order, some feeling of peace inside me.
It doesn’t fix everything, but it always helps.
I don’t know what I’d do without it. I feel like I owe something to the landscape, I’m grateful and I want to make that known. As though an act of thanks could somehow solidify it’s impact.
Perthshire April 2024
I somehow feel at home.
It is scary and new but I feel a sense of belonging.
A feeling that there is space for me to exist in somewhere so vast.
