SF x WBF Writer in Residency is now in its second year!
This two part residency involves the writer immersing themselves in all things Spring Fling Open Studios and then presenting work in response to the event in May at the Wigtown Book Festival in September.
Wigtown Pippins What will become of our pippins Planted for reasons of our own To take scrabbled root on rocky soil And bear fruit when we are gone Become an ancient variety ourselves Black and white images Archived for future generations How will we celebrate our being Our liv
Joy Division after the work of Hilary McElderry Life was never black and white, If only it had been. Separated from others, And within myself; A cruel cut. Slashed diagonally across – One side open, bold, The rhythms flowed; Shapes rounded, And th
“I’ve brought you a paper flower.” (inspired by Paper Flowers by Isabelle Buenz) There was a knocking at the door. The girl opened it, saw who was standing there, and promptly shut it again. “Wait,” the young man said, wedging a foot between the door and
Long Meg and her Daughters (inspired by Long Meg and her Daughters by Sarah Keast) Long Meg and her daughters stand in what once was moorland and is now just a field, and they stand and they wait. (Like many standing stones, they aren’t really sure what they’re waiting for
Inspired by Geoff Forrest He wove her a basket that was purposefully off-kilter. He wove her a bell which spiralled and spiralled. He wove her a boat, he wove her a fish. He wove brown willow, he wove green willow. She broke the basket, she lost the bell. She burned the boat, s
Wet Woven Willow (Inspired by the work of Geoff Forrest ) Objects made by hand handled by hands, wet and mailable, formed in tension intentionally shaped by innate grace a dance escapes the hand, and flies in imagined space. Forming my mind as it goes a release from information a bles
Gift tag for Isabell Buenz’s paper flowers I bind the stems with willow ribbon display this bouquet in a mossy field hydrate at the stillest pool on the Braid under the parapluie of one of our ashes – the Weltasche or Yggdrasil Helen Boden