SWIMMING WITH MY MOTHER, a work-in-progress.
Field trip to Sandymount Strand:
On Sunday last, I took the opportunity of the lovely weather to go back to a special place for me, which as a child was my expansive front garden.
Sandymount Strand.
In 'Swimming with my mother' I thought it important to go right back to the heart of my earliest water memories. I want to be able to create a duet between my mother, Madge and myself, which would be informed by shared stories of earlier memories. I want to explore the idea of memory and what informs the dances we dance. Using our shared swimming-life as a metaphor of life itself, our relationship and bonds.
How would we react in this space, The Strand, which we have not been on together for many years?
I found it liberating. Getting out of the studio and into the huge open space, unlocking an inner-emotion.
I became the child again. Running and dancing on the beach. I could see Madge looking off into the distance, towards Howth.
What was she thinking about?
Past swims in the sea at the 'Shelly banks'?
Was she remembering the many happy years of watching the sea, as it curled around Dublin Bay, twice a day, and covering the entire stretch of sand we were now both standing on?
This idea, of the sea covering and uncovering vast areas of the beach seemed to ring home a truth to me, and possibly a way forward with the dance.
We talk together for a little and every now and then, we would just both fall silent. Staring off out over the bay.
We walked on and passed the Martello tower. Then on again to the old public sea baths to take some photographs. The baths had been decommissioned a long time ago. I remember hearing stories of the wooden walkway that ran from the roadside to the entrance. How during the summer months people would travel from miles around to swim in the chilly water, which was trapped into the baths by a very simple method. They would open the gates of the baths during high tide and trap the water within. Then over time, the water was treated. The seawater would warm by a few degrees in the sun. (Of course the weather was always better then! When summer meant sunshine and warm breezes). The old swimming pool walls now are crumbling and being eaten away slowly by the force of the tides. The baths have become a playground for graffiti artist and the remains of late night parties were evident. There were several people gathering cockles in the pools of water, which the baths still traps. A rich mixture of urban art and nature taking over.
What surprised me the most was the changes of the sand banks. How they have shifted from how I remember them. As a child, I remember playing a game we had made up called 'Fast Corner's'. Where we would walk out to one of the sand banks. Our feet would sink into the sand. We would run in ever decreasing circles as fast as we could, getting closer and closer to the ground. Without falling over. This was the aim, to stay upright the longest. We knew this place like the back of our hands. Time has changed it. But it still felt like our playground.
I will be returning to the stand this week on my own. Trying to bring to light and find the dancing that this incredible space has choreographed for me. I would like 'Swimming with My Mother', to evolve from these type of field trips. Piecing together the story, which feels natural and unforced. While being relevant to both Madge and myself.
David Bolger April 2010.
