It Was You All Along

A few weeks ago whilst sitting outside listening to the birds and feeling the warmth of sun on my face I heard a thought drop in to my head. It was a realisation that the affinity I have for the natural world is not because of a particular place but due to a particular person, my Mum. My Dad inspired me too but for the moment I am focussing on the way Mum transfused her excitement and fascination for the elements of nature, to me. I have mentioned before the memory I have of her dressing us in our coats on top of pyjamas to go down and see the high tide late in the evening, and run away from the waves splashing over the sea wall but it has to do with so much more than that one memory. It was a whole childhood of going outside whenever possible. We climbed the local Mendip hills, rocks and trees, had pic-nics, walked through woods and along beaches. We picked blackberries every autumn with Mum and her three sisters and whenever the families got together a walk was inevitable. With Dad, we built dams on the river Wharf and jumped across the gaps in the strange limestone pavement at Malham Cove. The natural world was our main source of awe, joy and wonder.

As I write this, last Tuesday, the 10th March, would have been my Mum’s birthday. I thought it was an appropriate day to go to Anchor Head in Weston, the place we were taken to run away from the high tide. It was also the place I used to climb up a particular section of rocks that went up to the sea wall and you could get to the top, climb over the wall then run around and back down the steps to the bottom of the rocks and climb up again and again.

When I arrived, I set up my camera and tripod to video myself climbing these rocks as the adult I am now. I felt a bit self-conscious but quite quickly ignored thoughts about what onlookers might think I was doing. I managed a couple of videos in a clumsy sort of way but felt at least I’d recorded something! I wanted to re-enact the activity so embedded in me due to the number of times I must have climbed those rocks as a child. It felt like a physical need in my body to go and climb that route again. Looking back on it a week or so later, it was a bit like one of those reconstructions to jog people’s memory of a crime or event.

I took a rubbing of the rocks I had climbed using both sides of one piece of tissue paper creating a graphite impression of the route. Here is a short film of the repetitive climb and the tissue and graphite act. It starts with no sound to evoke the idea of a silent memory, the sound comes in when I’m taking the graphite rubbings.

I also made a few more rubbings and drawings on tissue paper, of the smoother rocks in the bay and used water soluble graphite with water from the rock pools. I am interested in using some natural materials when I’m working out in the landscape if possible, without disturbing the natural ecology or leaving any trace.

My final act of remembrance, if that is what these are, was to write a spontaneous piece about the realisation I have had about the connection between my Earth Mother, my Mother Earth and me. Having written it sitting on rocks looking out towards Steepholm I then attempted to film myself reading it whilst looking out to sea. It is one of the places myself and siblings, our spouses and children, scattered the ashes of both our parents about twenty years ago. I hadn’t attached a particular significance to this but maybe there is.

It was tricky to film and the wind, though fairly gentle, still caused me some issues - maybe that too is significant and evidence of nature whispering something or communing with me. There are activities and events she creates, every single day and night; Daily light shows, re-ordering of moons and planets, wind, rain, clouds of all colours, tides in and out, eruptions, quakes, new growth every spring, and so on. These are all evidence of her aliveness and her way of imparting knowledge and wisdom. I think of the planet we live on as Mother, Mother Earth who gave birth to us and has provided everything we need to flourish and thrive. It is vital we listen to her insight to guide us and enable us to nurture a healthy relationship with her. The best way to do that is to spend time with her, as much as possible.

Charcoal Impressions and Mud Paintings

Last week I visited Weston super Mare with a rucksack full of various equipment and materials including two pieces of raw canvas, some charcoal, brushes and other things. I had in mind that I would do some writing on the beach and some painting with some mud collected from the beach. The following two videos show me using charcoal to take a kind of rubbing from the rock surface I used to scramble over as a child, then me collecting mud and using it to paint directly onto canvas on top of the pebbly surface of the cove. The view I chose to paint is out towards the horizon and includes Steepholm and Brean Down.

As I reflect upon that day and the actions I took, I am reminded of many things. The collection of the mud is significant because of the association I have with growing up in a place renowned for its treacherous mud and tidal range. It is also familiar to me as a material used by indigenous people such as Aboriginals, who’s work and lives are inseparable from the land they live in. I like the connection to the landscape and to my memories this activity brought me and also to Aboriginal and Maori people who’s knowledge of their environment inspires me.

Using the charcoal to make a rubbing from the rock surface enabled me to bring the memory of those rocks back to my current home in Oxfordshire. It’s an interesting thing to move a piece of landscape from one place to another, though of course it is not actually the landscape. I had not intended to make a rubbing like this but when I laid the canvas down it seemed the most natural thing to do. I became more involved in the idea as I went along, using my fingers to press the canvas down into the fissures of the rocks in order to make darker charcoal impressions. I knew those rocks so well as a child and making the canvas rubbing has made me wonder whether you could get a whole crowd of people to make rubbings of the whole cove and surrounding rocks! It could then be installed into a room as a memory drawing of the place, or hung temporarily on the rocks themselves.

Painting with the mud was difficult at first. I couldn’t get the mud to stick on to the canvas and had to work quite hard to rub it in. I had taken stiff brushes having anticipated this issue. The surface of the pebbles I had the canvas resting on, helped to create the textured impression of the rocks I was looking at along the shoreline. It was important to me to put Steepholm into the painting and to connect it to the land by painting the lines of the waves I could see in the distance as they journeyed towards the shore.

I have kept both pieces for continued reflection and ideas.

Charcoal in the Rain

A short film introducing my intentions to write prose or poetry in the landscape with a performative element.

I am currently observing the way weather conditions can act as a catalyst for memories to emerge in a powerful way, often invoking a nostalgic response.

Nostalgia Inducing Weather

It’s a regular day and I’m in the regular field walking the dog.

As I reached this far corner of the field I turned and looked across at the sky and felt a feeling I often have. There was something about the weather, atmosphere, light and temperature that reminded me very strongly of going to secondary school on winter mornings. I took this photo today at 08.36 January 13th so I guess that would have been the time I’d have been getting off the bus to walk along one of the main roads in Weston super Mare towards my school. I can remember the low dark sky, oppressive but somehow comforting too.

The feeling I had this morning, was like butterflies in my stomach as if I was excited but looking backwards through time. It was an excitement of remembering that those weather and light conditions had given me the same feelings earlier in my life, like a connection to the past. When I had those feelings at a younger age, was I feeling the excitement via the weather and light, towards the future? Was I now walking in the field with my dog and somehow directly connected to myself as an 11 or 12 year old walking to school as if on the same day?

I wonder if anyone else experiences weather, light and atmospheric conditions stimulating memories and nostalgia? It’s similar to the way smell can instantly take us to a very specific memory.

I enjoy these experiences but it isn’t just about evoking memories for me. I’m interested in the catalyst being nature. Sometimes I find myself looking across hills and the experience of seeing far into the distance gives me a similar feeling of butterflies in the stomach and an excitement about something. I can’t really define what that something is and I don’t know if a word exists to describe this feeling.

I wonder and have always wondered, what is nature communicating? What I felt this morning and feel often when I am out in the landscape, was an energy that came both from within me and without me and the communion of the two. This morning I felt comforted and reassured but energised at the same time. Like something bigger than me was making itself known. It’s quite thrilling really.

Exploring my love for the natural world through landscape and seascape...

At the beginning of 2025 I began compiling a proposal to Arts Council England for funding from their DYCP (develop your creative practice) scheme. It was submitted in May and I was delighted to be granted the award in July to start my project in September 2025. This project will continue until August 2026 and is based around several areas in the UK which have influenced my love and appreciation for the natural world. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t fascinated by nature of all scales, from dramatic landscapes and skies to the way light illuminates a tiny seed head.

I have started my research in the town I was born and lived in for the first twenty years of my life - Weston super Mare and with a particular focus on the island of Steepholm in the Bristol Channel which is visible from almost everywhere in Weston. It’s shape is distinctive and in the lead up to my decision to apply for dycp funding, I kept seeing the shape of Steepholm in all sorts of unexpected places, like a sign giving me clues or reassurance I was doing the right thing.

I also wish to include Uffington White Horse Hill in my project as I had a pivotal experience whilst up there on a very clear sunny day. White Horse Hill is roughly a 40 minute drive from where I currently live so is easy to go to for an afternoon and is somewhere we (myself, my husband and our family) have become fond of. On this particular day around 18 months ago, I looked across towards the west and was convinced that way way off in the distance was a tiny shape on the horizon which resembled my Steepholm! I checked on my phone map to see if I was looking in the right direction and lo and behold, Steepholm’s position was directly in line with where I was looking. I was astonished but have tried looking on other occasions and have seen the same shape so, unlikely as it is, I remain fairly convinced it is indeed Steepholm I can see from White Horse Hill. This experience gave me a deep feeling of comfort and connection. I felt I was standing in a place where I could easily pivot between my childhood and my current life. It was as if I could reach both easily and see a clear path from childhood to adulthood - one continuous life. I’m not sure why this gives me so much comfort but I think the thread this project is following might reveal some interesting links and loops.

I am wondering what the landscape can tell us and I’m fascinated by the way it has been depicted by artists (of all genres) throughout history to describe metaphorically, aspects of the human condition. I’m also interested in the knowledge I have gained of the immediate landscape around me where we have lived for 18 years. I know the position the sun will rise and set at different times of the year, the changes in shadows cast in the house during each season and the character and tone of the light around equinox and solstice. I have a special interest in the knowledege gained and passed on by indigenous people in different countries and this was heightened after reading a book called ‘Wild’ by Jay Griffiths about 10 years ago. I want to delve into this aspect of our human connection with the natural world and lack thereof.

So, if you’d like to follow my project’s development please do subscribe to my newsletter via my website and I will try to keep you updated when I post something new…or you can follow me on my Facebook page or Instagram. I might even try to post on Substack! If you search Alison Berrett Artist on any of these you should find me.

Some of the work in the above photos features the dangers of Weston beach. This is something I think was always present in my experience and knowledge of the sea there. It is well known for having the second highest tidal range in the world and therefore the tide is often a long way from view and has given rise to the nickname Weston super Mud! I have memories of children being pulled from the mud and carried off the beach and the flares to attract the RNLI lifeboat were a regular sound. My relationship with the sea is mixed - it thrills me but I am not inclined to swim in it and most definitely avoid going anywhere near the soft sand and mud along the beaches. People ignore the signs and get into trouble especially during the summer - they think they can reach the sea. They can’t.