Stories

In the past few months I have met no shortage of people who have ancestry from or experience with the Grey Islands. Although the communities have long been resettled there is a definite cultural memory of the place that generally has to do with hardship and isolation.

Take for instance a story I heard at a dinner party a little while ago, about a child who stepped on a nail and died after infection set in. There were no medical services on the island and no transportation to the mainland was available for several days because of bad weather.

These are the kinds of stories people tell me when they hear about my project. They don't necessarily do it to discourage or to scare me, but more to get a feel about my commitment level to the project and how I can justify what I'm doing both artistically and personally. I've always believed that art (and craft especially) relies upon the viewer living vicariously through the artist. If, for example, an urban dwelling professional romanticizes about the back-to-the-land movement but can't figure it out how to make it work for herself she might be happy enough to buy a dinner set from a nearby country potter. And I expect The Grey Islands will be no different - there will be an audience for this piece that projects its (usually third-hand) experience of the place onto my actions there.