collecting soil from cardiff, June - 2008

This soil is not only from Cardiff, it was collected from the small park which is just next to the Art school that has been my main destination for two years! (By the way, this park includes few tombs placed in a very beautiful way)

It was a sunny day but the weather was hot and cold together I don’t know how! Anyway, the ground looked very hard but the moment I touched it, it turned smooth and offered me some good soil :-)

I grabbed two portions and put them in two different bags, one to be taken with me after two days to Toronto / Canada and be placed there. While the other one is to be sent to Ania at her current place in the Isle of Wight.

England (Isle of Wight) - May 2008

I did not go to the beach to collect the soil. I went there to have dinner, and collected soil before I returned home. I had with me only empty Tesco plastic bag. English soil fits well into this wrapping.
This is my favourite beach on the island. It is quite empty and wild and only ships queuing to get to the harbour spoil the horizon. Tesco bag and the queue - reminders that I am still in England.

















Hanadi said: you collected sand not soil! Technically true. But more I think about the project and soil collection more I feel I come from sand not soil. Sand is more like me. Being relocated with every tide. Never actually sure where its coming from and where it is going next. I like this uncertainty. I envy sand never simply just lying down. Constant sailing and movement rather than hoping to settle down.

Have I mentioned that I suffer from seasickness? I even feel sick while driving a car! Crossing the Solent can be quite painful and i cross it a lot. With all my will and eagerness to relocate and be on a move this condition does not help. Silly body that does not want to adjust to the willingness of soul?

Poland (Warsaw) - April 2008

START: Monday, Hanadi’s soil letter arrived in the afternoon post, it was late.

Lukasz was the only person in. I asked if he could take a few pictures of me in front of the house while I will pop some soil to the transparent bag. He said: fine.

I have chosen the spot just by the entry to the flats, under the bush (probably heavily used by the local dogs). The soil was hard but delicate. I took three or four fistful of it. Just right amount. It took only few minutes. It did not feel as it was long enough, as it had appropriate weight.

Lukasz took some ‘staged’ pictures of me and the bag in front of the flats from various angles, with and without flash. Ania on holiday style, no smile. Neighbours silently smoked their cigarettes in their windows and watched us as a new episode of the daily soap. We went back in.

END: Tuesday, at the crowded airport, security’s about to scan my bag, I wonder if soil looks as a forbidden item (no liquids, no sharp objects, no explosives). It was early. I packed the soil myself.

Pictures by Lukasz Partyka (I said I will mention, he said it is not necessary)

Syria - March 2008

In my last visit to Syria, I collected some soil from a farm and that was my first step towards this project.

engaging with nature and touching the soil with my hand was very important during the collection performance as soil is an essential element in nature and to fulfil the soul, I had to feel the soil..

I asked my sister who was having a walk with me to photograph me while I was doing my performance. Of course, she was shocked enough to ask 'what the hell are you doing?' I simply replied: "This is Art". She did not ask about anything after that and she was smiling all the time while she was photographing me but I still do not know what she was meaning by her smile!

After I put the soil in the bag, I wrote 'Syria' on it just to link the name of the place from where the soil was collected with the soil itself otherwise it could be any soil from any land. This makes me think again about identity and how we can identify something by relating it to something else such as a place... Soil could be soil anywhere but is it really the same?!

My sister's reaction was nothing compared to what happened in the airport when I wanted to photograph the bag on my way back to Cardiff.