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I Live Here Now

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I hope that when we go back Nadia might have made her way home, that the war will be over and that things can begin to be mended. In her book ‘ I Live Here Now‘ she describes how after a relocation to Moscow, she made drawings of all that she encountered as she walked through the streets to familiarise herself with the new city.

He was born in Odessa, into a family of Jewish musicians and mathematicians whose careers had been blocked or put on hold by the official and unofficial anti-semitic prejudice of the Soviet Union. Perhaps the most we can hope for is to wake ourselves up, to keep ourselves vigilant, watchful; which is a sort of care, but it is not breaking down the door, indeed it is often watchfulness from a place of hiding. I took the train east to meet an old friend at the bar in Leith where she used to work as a teenager, those festival summers that she had recounted to me, over thirty years ago. I hung them up — they were not quite wide enough and there was a gap between the ragged end of the curtains and the bottom of the window, for windows tend to be higher in Scottish flats than in London houses.I know that during the lockdown the looking between flats became a sort of completing — the leaving of curtains open for each other, a mutual watching of each other’s stories that sometimes became messages and waving, and was not nothing, it was a small lessening of loneliness. There seemed to be only two colours that day, the silvery grey-green of sea mist and sky, of the metal surface of the nuclear station and of the leaves of the buckthorn bushes, variously inflected and shifting in the light.

We are taking each other in, newly alert to the fragility of each person, and perhaps more carefully attentive as we attempt to sound out the edges where our seperateness meets; that must also be re-found after the long imposed distancing. Prints of one of these bandstand drawings are being sold in the café on the street below, where his father’s bakery once stood, to fund a campaign to save the circus from being dug up and “re-landscaped” by the local council. It was pouring rain, but a gazebo was put up in the centre of the turning circle by the main doors, and ten of us huddled underneath it. She has exhibited in joint and group shows at the Centre for Recent Drawing (C4RD), Artspace Gallery and the Royal Academy in London and in Glasgow Project Room, Transmission and Mansfield Gallery, Glasgow; she has also shown work in Russia and in France: at the Echomusée, Paris and at the Universities of Lyons and Cergy-Pontoise in collaboration with the Banlieue Network. I make drawing after drawing, sometimes by eye, but mostly trying to measure it, and it continues to elude me.He had eked out last year’s supply, rationing himself to a few berries each morning for breakfast, now it was time to gather again. We believe everyone has the right to be creative and by working together and sharing ideas we can enable everyone to reach their creative potential. And Masha’s father, who all his life longed for a “ royale”, a real grand piano, plays music into the empty rooms of the flat.

Many of the larger lumps had taken flight, descended to the pavement, and there were bare gaps where once there had been bouncy hillocks of green.Because I kept my eyes on the world, essential for safety and avoidance of oncoming objects (small wayward dogs a particular hazard), I couldn’t look at my paper as I drew, so the drawings were blind drawings with the occasional quick glance down at the drawing to see what was happening.

The heat does not draw you in but makes you rather retreat to the shadows and pull down the blinds, as if in Rome or Athens. Down the corridor, smashed glass, the washing up still in the sink, a whisk in a milk pan, and below the window, a child’s toy hard hat on the floor with the real rubble. But the tree at the back is protected from the wind on three sides by the enclosing back walls of tenements. The players settle into their tunes and are brought tea, and glasses of whisky are offered to the elders. I notice that in spite of the new building, the light still falls onto what used to be my bedroom window, in my friend’s old study, and am grateful, even though I no longer stay there.My walking drawings are a record of a sensory and visual experience; how I view the world as I move through the landscape, drawing myself through a space.

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