1
The grey clouds sinks in the sky and the wind swirls coldly as the coach twists into the car park. Concrete gives way to wet grass amongst the passengers feet to greet a ceremonial circle of nine tree spurts resting next to nine dug holes.
3
The group grew in numbers before the saplings. People of different experiences, bending towards each other in private voices while surveying the throng of gatherers with quiet inquisition, curious as to the others not familiar to their eyes.
4
People looking around, at their surroundings. Unsure of what to make of the situation. Trying to take all the information in, seeing what knowledge can be gleaned.
2
Why had these people gathered here? A communal day trip to the hinterland of the city. Beside the slow moving water of the canal. A shared experience of a moment in flux between moments.
5
John Newling emerges as the focus of peoples eyes and ears as his voice merges with the wind. Elucidating on our thoughts, transparent in his intentions. The beech saplings were born from experimental artificial beginnings, nurtured, fed with the local community, and now pass into the natural soil to begin their next stage.
6
John kneels before the first hole, extends his arm, and opens his hand letting several 2 pence coins fall into the ground. Both he and the Mayor of the Borough of Broxtowe feed soil into the ground before carefully lowering the first living sculpture into its new place of growth, cushioning its arrival with more soil. The artificially grown roots entwining with their natural counterparts for the first time.
7
The group surrounding is encouraged to help with the rest of the planting. Spades and conversations are shared between strangers as soil, tree and measured values combine. Most people get their hands dirty with the community burial. Rebirth.
8
Small deaths that continually regenerate. How something passes through and touches its past and its future with the present. Is this the capacity for love? Tomorrow this circle of trees will grow, and with it a clearing will slowly form. Into which people will wander looking for knowledge among however their surroundings find them.
9
A dog appears around us and sniffs our unfamiliar smells as it bounds between the kneeling and standing bodies. Its walker, on the periphery at first, joins hesitantly, intrigued by the gathering and our activities. The trees are planted, but nothing is finishing. There’s soup being warmed nearby. And whispers of a walk along the canal later, in which the clouds may clear and light may pour down.
