Living With Wolfie and other adventures

Over the years I have often ogled over the exhibitions and workshops advertised in Prema’s four-monthly timetable, which somehow lingers around the kitchen table long after it is out of date. But the small art space in Uley seemed so out of the way and the workshops always seemed to conflict with either my finances or with my other commitments, and so I was never able to experience as much as I had wanted.

I heard about Tamany Baker’s exhibition in the newsletter several months ago and made a note to myself to visit. Living with Wolfie seemed such an exciting project, transforming the ‘gifts’ from her cat Wolfie into shrines which are reminiscent of the ways in which Victorians decorate photographs of loved ones with locks of hair or seasonal flowers. Encased in identical bronze painted frames and grouped in threes and fours along the corridors and seating area, the photographs provided a trail throughout the exhibition as if stalking a path of destruction. This collaboration between artist and feline results in some stunning imagery, featuring macabre corpses arranged and photographed with such delicate attention that they are transformed from something squeamish to something astonishingly beautiful.

During my visit I was also able to see the oversized paintings of Colossal Cats by Angela Lizon, a series of incredibly intense images based transforming posters of kitsch kittens into something substantial. The result is something not unlike unease. The humour of pedigree cats dressed in little wigs or headdresses lost, creating something quite disturbing and, perhaps overall, bizarre.

Architects of Air Luminarium

When I discovered Taurus Crafts was the temporary home of a luminarium this week I couldn’t help but approach apprehensively. Whilst filled with an ecstatic desire to lose myself in the wonder of a colourful inflatable structure, I was wary of safety following an incident several years ago where a similar structure wasn’t tied down properly and took to the skies causing several deaths and serious injuries. Logically, I knew this tragic event would have prompted a health and safety overhaul and now it would in fact be safer than ever, but I nevertheless armed myself with a pen knife and a compass in case the worst happened. And sure enough I was reassured once inside when I realised there appeared to be zips forming emergency exists every five metres or so, leaving me free to enjoy the experience.

In any case, the atmosphere inside this womblike structure is so comforting that any concerns were transformed into awe, the outside world forgotten and discarded as a dull, desaturated land. I was lucky enough to come at a time so I could enjoy the Luminarium in its mostly empty state, loosing myself in swaying corridors before larger crowds of bustling people joined. Barefoot, they wandered around like children, seemingly lost in a haze of colour, eyes wide and mouth agape with dreamy smiles.

Fox Tracks

I’ve been thinking a lot about traces recently – the remains of a fire pit once a convoy has moved on, the crumpled shell of a bender tent and tyre tracks in the mud. Couple this with my vulpesmania and it can only lead to me donning shoes with fox paw print soles and trundling about in the forest in the early hours of the morning.

An idea for a documented performance, perhaps? Although, is vulpesmania even a word? It should be.

Tame Foxes

Foxes are beautiful. I have loved them for years. Perhaps it began when I was seven years old, when I stumbled across an adolescent fox whilst walking alone in a corn field where my dad was working. I froze, we stared at each other for three magical seconds, and then she disappeared in an autumnal blur. Five years ago two red foxes appeared at the end of my garden, basking in board daylight and suffering from mange. We slipped medicine into broken up honey sandwiches, and they stayed for a few months before moving on. At the time I was doing an illustration project at college and took advantage of their presence by photographing them from my bedroom window.

Recently I have been investigating getting a collie dog, but the thought of having a fox keeps straying into my head. Whilst I have known about tame foxes for many years – I have a fragmented childhood memory of a documentary discussing the breeding programme – I wasn’t aware people could have them as pets.

In 1959, Russian scientist Dmitri Belyaev headed an experiment which sought to find out how dogs developed different physical features from wolves during their evolution. He believed that by breeding only the tamest silver foxes physical differences would begin to emerge as a result of their hormonal and neurochemical changes. Starting from one month old, the foxes were tested on tameness based on their friendliness, preferred company of foxes or humans and likeliness to let the experimenter pet them whilst being offered food.

This experiment went on for fifty years and over forty generations of foxes. Just two years into the experiment, the second generation foxes were already showing a genetic lack of aggression towards humans, by the fourth generation they began to wag their tails like dogs, and by the sixth generation they began lick humans and follow them around. Supporting Belyaev’s predictions, the foxes developed physical changes to, which included shorter or curlier tails, floppy years and longer reproductive seasons. They lost their musky smell, and their colouring changed. Many of them developed piebaldism, which is extremely rare in wild animals, and refers to white patches on the fur such as those found in Pinto horses or Jack Russel Terriers.

Part of me questions the ethics of breeding foxes. I’ve always had concerns over the health issues surrounding pedigree animals, but with these foxes I also worry about what happened to the ones that weren’t selected, the ones that displayed neither tame nor aggressive qualities.

Nowadays it’s possible to buy a rather expensive tame fox from www.sibfox.com. If you live in America. Not Britain, apparently. It’s worth a look though, to see some of these beautiful creatures, waggy tails and all.

SLR Blues

I have recently been feeling a sense of loss over the digital SLR I borrowed from the tech store at university. We only had one precious week together, but it was a week filled with beautiful focus and wonderful photographs even when I wasn’t trying too hard. Everything was easy, it flowed. We never argued and when we did have disagreements we worked it out quickly, and no tears shed. That SLR never let me down; it was always producing wonderful and accurate colours, and reassured me that my choices were okay: whether it was offering me files types or light balance, it went along with my decisions, without a question asked. It made me a better person and a better photographer. I could depend on it and I could envision a long and happy future with it, filled with photographs and multiple lenses.

But it wasn’t to be. I had to return that SLR to the tech store when I finished my course. My train journey home felt empty, as I realised it would be a long time before any SLR would share my life again. In my desperation I turned to my old camera, a Canon A360. No SLR, to be sure, but lovely in its own way. I remember the beginning of our relationship, when I set eyes on it in the shop and realised how much I needed it. I lusted over the ability to alter aperture, depth of field, light balance and focus on a point-and-click sized camera. I admired its light, small frame and its charming swivel screen.

But now I’ve tasted better things and what I loved beforehand is bitter sweet. Five years since taking that Canon home and the swivel screen has scratches on it, there’s dirt in the lines of the casing and smudges on the lens. 10 megapixels doesn’t seem what it used to be and four AA batteries don’t last long. Despite all this, deep down I remember my love for this Canon, and I know its positive qualities, the qualities I had longed for in a camera. And I know that I never fully appreciated these, with the exception of manual focus, so now I am taking time to appreciate them. I am re-exploring it, testing out aperture and depth of field and light balance – the little things that make it different from the rest, the things I loved about it. It will never be an SLR, but if I can improve my photography skills it won’t matter. And because one day another SLR will come into my life, and on that day I will be able to appreciate it properly.

Taken about three years ago using my Canon camera.