Prior to arriving on the Magdalen Islands, my intention for The Invisible Paths project was to pick a single area to listen to and develop place-responsive work in. However, once I arrived and began exploring, I realized that there are multiple places I feel deep resonance with, and I continue to discover more as I make my way through the Islands. 

The land here embodies temporality and movement. Air, water and deep geological forces are continually re-shaping the landscape. Clearly, nothing is permanent. 

No matter where I visit on the archipelago, this is what I find resonance with: movement. Movement grounded in the forms and character of each place, and movement as a call to deepen awareness. So I've shifted my project to be a kind of pilgrimage, deepening and broadening my embodied capacity for listening — allowing it to become the space that action emerges from. Here's a brief description of my project:

For the duration of the Songlines residency, I will be witnessing the environment, allowing listening to inform my path. As I make my way, my body and drum will be receptive to the unseen and invisible voices of the landscape — creating multiple resonance points through the archipelago.

Drumming the Tide (2014) and Body Sail (2015)

Drumming the Tide (2014) and Body Sail (2015)

For a few years, I've been doing a lot of work with water on the Bay of Fundy, Nova Scotia. Two years ago I walked in the tide. At the end of my six-hour, slow journey, I took the white fabric I had been wearing off, and let it float away into the ocean. Almost a year later, I returned to the same beach, where I was digging up some red mud to dye paper. As I dug, I came across a piece of fabric. I pulled at it, and as I uncovered the mud-soaked material, I realized it was the piece of fabric I had let go a year earlier. However, I still couldn't believe it. It wasn't until I took it to the water, washed the mud off, and the wind gave it form that I finally believed it was my fabric. It has spent a year in the ocean, and now the water gave it back to me (see images above). 

Prior to arriving on the Magdalen Islands, I had dreams about the wind. I saw images of sand continually creating new forms, and birds soaring around wind-swept coastlines. As I spend time here, I've experienced how pervasive the wind is. It seems to permeate all aspects of life and form, speaking it's own language, and making things speak through interaction. It has such a strong influence that it's a kind of wild place onto itself. 

As I pay attention to the wind, I realize that this is the spirit I wish to understand and embody here as I make my way — the spirit of the wind. The wind is freedom, yet it finds character and shape through interacting with the physical world. The source is seemingly unknown, yet it is speaking and making things speak. It can disperse all, shatter, but also can re-memeber. Shaking things to their core, rattling possibilities into existence, only truth remains, resonates. The wind is constantly interacting, moving, re-shaping.