Roisin Markham

I spent time by the waterbody that is Lady’s Island Lagoon last week.

Watching swans upended

listening to birds I did not know

staring into murky waters wondering about the depths

the lapping sound of water into a foamy shoreline

quietly observing

if she could talk what would she say?*

This lagoon or lake as it is also called is a waterbody in crisis.

There is an active campaign Save Lady’s Island Lake holding the county council and EPA to account. 30 years reporting about the river catchment pollution with no action to stop or redress ecological harm. Yes it needs to be addressed. It’s complex.

Livelihoods tip 60 tones of nitrogen into the lake as run off from agricultural activities.

In rural communities farmers refuse to believe that their work is impacting the lake as significantly as it is. The scientific facts say otherwise. The tension is significant.

This is an area of rich but depleting biodiversity. The area has heritage tangible and intangible heritage. The landscape dotted with ruins, ring forts and druidic sites holds centuries of human activity.

It is a place of spiritual pilgrimage.

I was invited a few months ago to join a group of artists to give voice* to the lake. We have been meeting monthly. Layering our work, relationship with lake and land, listening, a softness between kin, being curious. It’s a kind of delicious depth that I am wading into.

As I drove down toward the seaward side at the bottom of the lake near the South Wexford Coastal path I passed a car parked. A photographer watching and photographing swans, a mega white zoom lens resting on the drivers door window.

It’s unusual not to meet a photographer down by the lagoon.

I am fascinated by how the rocks appear scattered like they have just rolled off a hill to the lake. I want to know more about these rocks.

This time of year the contrast of colours has a stark quality to it.

Washed out greyness heightens the contrast, the reeds pop in a muted hue.

I search my colour vocabulary for the description of the colour not as away to own it or conquer it with human knowledge but as a presencing.

English offers me not words well. I wonder does Irish have a distinct word for reeds ready to be picked for thatching and what is the colour of that word, the mouth feel as you speak it, the cultural references point in the body. Does it create pattern in your mind when spoken out to the landscape?

around the reeds the lake flows disturbing the smooth water

unable to process the dismantled calm the sounds pull me

a hidden rock is gurgled over like a constant surprise

but the colour evades me,

perhaps it’s that this reed I know it in many hues

here the yellow brightness is pulled out the muted pale tones between orange and yellow dip into browns and dark versions of green.

pale muted tan,

taupe

sage – dark olive green – khaki

oh what word feels right to describe this stalk standing in the water

the contrast of two weeks and 60km apart:

I begin my creative work with documenting, photography, possibilities, creative explorations, reading, a mind-map and a zine or two. Words begin to form perhaps poetically.

I made bad art. It was very satisfying. I plan to make more.

In other work the Community Engagement Lab has kicked off well with mentoring and coaching a small team on project work. I’m beginning to remap what was originally envisioned for the SME. I’ve been speaking to some associates who I’ll partner to deliver some of the work.

Some work is completing as I breath into the last month of Q1, March arrives. Some work is beginning and other bits bridging into further pieces of work or the promise of work. I have availability and bandwidth to take on more work.

February was a lot of

I’m looking forward to client work and leaning a little more into my own creative work. Oh & I do hope some bluer skies now Spring is really here.