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Friday, 20 August 2010

The porcupine ground.

There are ways to get over self-doubt. Self doubt is a tether preventing my mind from letting go of the self-criticism. The self that doubts and criticises must have it's reasons for trying to stop me crossing over into work, but what these reasons actually are, I have no idea..

Music is my method of releasing the safety-lock, and opening the gate to the next place. But before I do that I will pay attention to the voice of doubt -my inner perfectionist.

The problem is I am not sure if I have finished Woodhenge or not. When I look at what I actually think, the answer is that no, I don't feel as if I've finished Woodhenge at all. I want to get a carbon date for the skeleton of the man found in the ditch, I would also like to return him to his original site of burial. Also I would like to write a small pamphlet for visitors saying exactly what was found where, and within which strata (Romano-British, Bronze Age, Neolithic). I'd also like, one afternoon, to place a temporary Cretan labyrinth, within and around the pillars and on another occasion I imagine it to be a dark and very cold evening with frost to reflect the light- place candles (within small sand bags) upon each pillar.

Just as ways to change how people interact with Woodhenge, and to make it 'live' for a few hours.

The porcupine ground (grass studied with concrete posts) presents Woodhenge as a mystery diagram with a sad little grave at its heart. I would like to give it some beauty.

Another aspect of the self-limiting inner voice is my statement: I don't do ambition. By that I mean I don't really allow myself to try too hard to get what I want for fear of failure...

None of that detracts from the focus of my study though, I am looking for the effects of the Persephone myth and the sacrificed girl (in this case the flint grave) is at the heart of the Persephone myth, as it is at the heart of Woodhenge; just I didn't expect to be so affected by that other finding: the man in the ditch. My nightmare vision of the inevitability -the implacable logic- of his sacrifice stays with me. I don't know if he was killed to stay as protector and guardian of that place or not. In my mind it happened that way.

Personal truth is not universal truth.

Yet the fact remains; the people who made Woodhenge buried him there, it was his grave.

So, no I've not finished with Woodhenge because I wish to respect both my dream and the wrong done to 'Woodhenge' of removing the bones.

I started out focusing upon the central burial because it seemed unique, but now I find that the patten of central female burial (with the older skeletons gender is discernible) and male within the outer ditch, as repeated at other, similar structures.

There are also other burials of children of a similar age to that of the Woodhenge child, and many other forgotten and mislaid people whose bones are preserved in biscuit tins and shoe boxes, and as a wealth of words recorded in papers buried now within university libraries.

I must ask myself where does Woodhenge begin or end for me?