COLLINS GALLERY, GLASGOW
JEN HADFIELD: NIGH-NO-PLACEJENNY SOEP: DRAWING BREATHBYRE THEATRE, ST ANDREWS
VISUAL art and poetry seem like natural bedfellows, but the meeting place between them is often troub
led. This is partly because it is difficult to exhibit them together. We use our eyes – and our brains – in different ways when we read a poem and when we look at a work of art. It is as if something is needed to bridge the gap.
In From Kyoto to Carbeth: Plants and Poems of the Hills, the gap is bridged by Japanese calligraphy, art which is part drawing, part writing. The project, which brings together ikebana (Japanese flower arranging) with poetry, calligraphy and ceramics,
began with a meeting of minds. Poet Gerry Loose and artist Takaya Fujii discovered that both liked to walk the hills looking at the wild flowers – Loose in the Campsies near Glasgow, Fujii near his home in Kyoto. This became emblematic of a philosophy of life they also shared – a rejection of the pressure to consume in favour of something more contemplative.
The project developed slowly over three years. Fujii chose a flower, for each month of the year, which meant something to him, personally and culturally. Loose traced its Scottish counterpart and wrote a poem, which was then translated into Japanese and transcribed by calligrapher Seigan Urai. Cuttings from each plant were then arranged by Fujii, an ikebana master, in vases by ceramic artist Mikako Kawai.
It might feel culturally remote were it not for Loose's poems, which explore the distance between the cultures of Japan and Scotland, and their occasional closeness. He asks what it means to watch a helicopter spraying crops in the Campsies, "a pollinater in reverse", and be reminded of the quiet of Japan. He compares the Buddhist notion that nothing is wasted with his own grandparents' idea of thrift.
This exhibition shouldn't be rushed. It is, in a sense, about contemplation, about noticing and cherishing small things. Loose encourages his reader "to simply sit for a while / with this plant worlds brought / together". The flowers, transitory in their nature – some are already wilting – become a metaphor for cherishing this passing life.
The notion of contemplation, of making the everyday special, is also present in the exhibition of artworks at the Byre Theatre by poet Jen Hadfield which opened during the StAnza Poetry Festival. Influenced by the "ex-votos" of Mexico – offerings usually given as thanks to a saint or deity – these are tiny imagined landscapes made inside old tobacco tins using paint, wire, metal and snatches of poetry.
Again, there is a cultural gap being bridged. The forms and colours of the landscapes are suggestive of Shetland, where Hadfield is based, while the beads and sequins owe something to Mexican folk art. There are tiny satellites – and even a midge – fashioned from discarded wires and flowers cut from the metal of beer cans. Thrown-away things become something precious.
The exhibition is a companion piece to Hadfield's latest poetry collection, of the same name, and like poems these works suggest ideas rather than fully explore them. Perhaps they need to be seen in conjunction with the poems – sadly not featured here – in order to be fully appreciated.
Downstairs at the Byre is the work of Jenny Soep who could be seen sketching live at last year's StAnza Festival. She has also drawn and painted at a variety of other events and festivals, including T in the Park and the Connect Festival.
These StAnza works illustrate the potential and the limitations of the form. A painted sketch is much better than most photographs at evoking atmosphere, and Soep has the gift of capturing a person's defining features in a few swift lines. At the same time, however, the people most interested in these "captured moments" are the people who were there.
Poetry readings are not strong on visual dynamics and it is no coincidence that the most interesting works here are those which feature other elements: Michael Marra at the piano, sea shanties being sung on board "poetry boat" The Reaper; John Hegley with his orange suit and ukulele saying: "Alright, St Andrews, let's rock". Nevertheless, Soep has found a niche. We can expect to see more of her.
• From Kyoto to Carbeth until 5 April, then touring to Hill House, Helensburgh, Gracefield Arts Centre, Dumfries and the Scottish Poetry Library in Edinburgh. Jen Hadfield and Jenny Soep until 30 March.
