HOWL, 2008 Onyx. 2.5metres

HOWL

PRE-EMPTIVE MOURNING

This is the howl that we all have inside us. It's born of love, and loss.

The howl comes with our birthright of experience and love.

It was carved with an acknowledgement of human frailty in the face of death and loss and change. It's a monument to those who came and went before us, unmarked and unmourned, and for those in the future, who come after us, who will bear the dreadful repercussions of the profligacy and cruelty of our time.

In the age of this piece of stone, in the hundreds of millions of years shown in the physical, material presence of it, and its variegated beauty, lies the story of it’s formation through deep geological time; geology and physics can read in stone the creation of the planet, it allows us to imagine the cosmological time scale, the billions of years it took for our solar system and galaxy to form. We can start to get a hint of a sense of the pace and power of the creation of our planet, and our universe........ a notion of where, and what, in fact we are.

After the howl, sometimes, there is quiet and peace, the grace even, that comes with the knowledge of how beautiful and complex are the people and places we loved, and lost, and are losing; and sometimes, possibly, gently, a surrender to the sense that we are here to serve the Earth, and the Earths future...

Emily Young, London, 2008


A STONE STORY
NOTES ON WORKING WITH STONE IN THE 21ST CENTURY

When I first started carving pieces of stone, I was constantly saying to myself: this is extraordinary – what on earth am I doing? I seem to know what to do, how to find a form I like, but how, why, what for? What is it that is happening when I carve stone? Many answers came, none the final one: but the best answer is – I am doing Nature’s bidding. I am a part of Nature, and I am a manifestation in human form of her creativity; me carving stone is one of the infinite ways nature expresses itself. I am compelled by everything that I have ever experienced, or was born from, or know about, to do this, here, now...

There is a story told in every piece of stone that is more magnificent than any creation myth; it’s a story that shocked and astonished the Christian geologists of the late 1700’s in England, when they first started to decipher, through the fossil record, the history of life on Earth. Then, through learning to read the tracks and traces of the cataclysmic and remorseless geological changes that formed the planet, this story was uncovered which led directly to the computing of the true age of the Earth, the Solar System, our galaxy and the Universe. The science we depend on in our everyday lives is tied in, inextricably, to that history of learning to read the fossil record, in the stone, in the land.

So here we are, integral parts of the natural world, acting as natures’ agents, infinitesimally tiny players in the vast cosmos. In my particular little corner, when I carve a face into the stone, I seem to be acting out my self consciousness onto the stone, a stone that holds some of the history of the globe, formed of the very same original kind of material that I am formed of – a process begun billions and billions of years ago in the origins of our universe. I put a little modern consciousness back onto nature, who made both me and the stone. I carve the stone into familiar forms, carrying with them an emotional charge; the forms are beautiful, the stone broken. The expressions of sadness, of reflection, are easy to read – I like to think that anyone who ever lived on Earth, anywhere, any-when, would recognise these forms, and the expressions.

These expressions, and the breaks, showing there on the pieces of old stone, also tell another story: there is in our human nature, fully created by the laws of Nature, something urgent, always desirous for more, a short-sightedness and self obsession that while being born of necessity, of survival, now appears to lead to self destruction: this self-destruction has two effects: one, we destroy, profoundly change, our physical habitat as we strive to feed this infinite desirousness, and two, we lose our dignity in that process. Our dignity is made of care, of a rational and feeling response to our surroundings, to the land, the sea, the mountains, the air and of course our fellow creatures, both human and all the other inhabitants of Earth. The whole of the rest of the natural creation in fact.

So my work is a kind of temple activity now, devotional; when I work a piece of stone, the mineral occlusions of the past are revealed, the layers of sediment unpeeled; I may open in one knock something that took millions of years to form:  dusts settling, water dripping, forces pushing, minerals growing – material and geological revelations: the story of time on Earth shows here, sometimes startling, always beautiful.

What is this beauty? The shapes I impose on the stones are formal, discs, waves, the shape made by a planet as it moves through time around the heavens, or the familiar faces and bodies of my own species; graceful, strong, thoughtful, reflective – there are no huge mysteries here, nothing particularly demanding.

But the stone itself, that’s something else. The loveliness, power and strength in the stone is the raw beauty of nature herself; I can put a more or less familiar shape onto it, like a suit of clothes, and then eyes can look in and see what has been there for millions or billions of years, made with water, made with fire and gravity, made with time; majestic and ancient, and alien, our ancestor, part of that from which we came.

And along with this readable embodiment of the past, comes a sense of the inexorable drama that is the Earth’s history, the almost incomprehensible passage of time. The Earth behaves as she must; she is acted upon and obeys the laws of Nature. But we, mankind, the most complex thing in the known universe, now turn on our creator, our mother planet, changing her into a different, less hospitable place.

We walk blindly into our future, seeing the past, but seemingly unable to understand the depredations we wreak on the land, the air and the sea, the harm we do.

The average Westerner doesn’t see or suffer much of these changes – we suffer the age old pains of Death, disease and loss; we may hear a bit in the news, but our supermarkets are well stocked, our banks and corporations profiting; we may have heard that in the global South the deserts are growing, or the floods are destroying the fields, or that the glaciers are melting. We hear that perhaps the Amazonian forests will soon be too dry not to burn: that when the polar ice caps melt, the seas will rise up onto the land: that the global South will be hardest hit: that we may well survive quite comfortably, those of us with money and choices, and that the African poor will not. Oh.

So these old stones, that tell us the story of the Earth, the studies of which pushed away the confines of superstition and ignorance, these old stones will outlive us, and remain like the ruins of a lost civilisation. In case technology doesn’t sort the problems, and we don’t all make it through to a happy future, these stone carvings will lie waiting to be read in some future-scape of strangeness, and be a memento of us, and a memorial to us.

The Earth is and has been so powerful, so wild, so completely the source and the surrounding of all that we are and are capable of – a long view of it shows it to be utterly beautiful and utterly rare. But our primitive respect and our physical sense of her honour is crumbling. And somehow we have become the gun that we shoot into the hearts of the innocent. We destroy, and as we destroy, we watch ourselves dancing and weeping on their graves.

And so I protest, in stone; I want people to imagine what we will look like to posterity, how we would judge ourselves if we had such vision, and what we would do differently now: I want to speak down the years and tell the future of that bit of it’s past that was us – about what happens in our hearts now – about our surprise, our fear and sorrow, and shame – our apology. These pieces can be seen as memorials to a lost future, to lost wildernesses, to lost innocence; to the pointlessly, needlessly dead.

And also they can be testaments to our desperate dream, to somehow make it better again – that I am, we are, sorry, angry, forlorn, for the Earth and for ourselves.

I carve in stone the fierce need in millions of us to retrieve some semblance of dignity for the human race in its place on Earth. We can show ourselves to posterity as a pitiful and brutal life form – that what we are best at is rapacity, greed, and wilful ignorance, and we can also show that we are creatures of great love for our whole planet, that everyone of us is a worshipper in her temple of life.

There is a great story told of how our ancestors were the best, the most successful hunters and warriors and breeders; the cleverest, most creative strategists; the lucky; the survivors, who were also the best poets and singers and story tellers. We are their descendants, and here’s another story, in stone. Our past is gone; our future is endangered. Here are stony tears, pathos, and passion; a subtle memory of stillness, of joyful surrender to nature: a dignity.

Emily Young, London, 2007


A LIGHT TOUCH AND A LONG VIEW

When looking into a piece of stone, one can read its history, both its geological formation far back in distant time, and its more recent experiences of the world; the surface signs of sun, wind and water, the cuts and bruises left by its journey out of the ground or the quarry.

To see how beautiful are these traces is to be lifted out of the present and to touch for a brief moment the natural processes that formed our planet, almost beyond human comprehension in their immensity and violence, almost inconceivable in their time scale. And behind the creation of our planet, hangs the creation of our solar system, and behind that, our galaxy, and behind that, the universe.

The grace, power and pleasure the natural world can show us is what drives the making of these pieces. The human form, the most complex of all life forms on earth, is carved out of stone, out of the same minerals, elements, atoms and molecules that have always made up our physical universe. These carvings, cut from stone hundreds of millions if not billions of years old, can survive a few more millions, or billions of years into the future; (to be seen by whom?). Our senses let us know what we can of our planet; we are always limited, always a part of the whole. The body is those senses, biologically constructed out of the same minerals, elements, atoms and molecules that form the stone, the land, the planet.

These angels, warriors and poets who people the stone, are born of sunny, windy hill tops, and the dark light of caves; a kind of ecstasy, a stillness, a remembered energy from childhood, from dreams of fish memory, from dreams of flying and the silence of stone.

The torsoes are stiller still, holding the feel of lying on warm grass, or stone, feeling the hard deep planet under the back, winding back a trail to the first  kinds of births, a frozen moment of fullness, in stone.

At the same time, I want the work to bear witness over time against our failures,  and  to stand as  a testament to our 'feeble tinsel winged hopes' and successes - our aspirations  towards compassion  for this precious beautiful globe and all who sail in her amazing arms.

Emily Young, 2005


WORKING WITH STONE

A piece of stone, formed a hundred million years ago, worked now, could still be here in another hundred million. Who would see it? What would they see?

The stone is hard. It takes diamonds to cut it. I can hurl myself at a piece of stone, full strength, with hammer and chisel and not a lot happens. I do that a few times, and it will accept a small mark. It's strong, wild, ancient and it has a cold dark heart.

The stones seem to exist in an utterly different way to us, so slow, so silent and so long-lived; but to me they're kinds of ancestors.  They are made (like us) of particles that were born in starbursts, in galactic winds, in that first big bang. They participated more closely in the formation of the earth. There’s a poetry in them, in their impossibly long slow dance. They were here before and will be after us. They show their history, and thereby ours, and the earth's and the universe's.

Some stones ring or sing when I knock them with the right thing. The sound they make will tell if the stone is sound, solid, flaw-free, good to work, a quality that can be completely musical.

The exterior of a piece of stone is often a disguise: old, dull, weathered: but after a few hours of polishing, its surface shifts and reveals an extraordinary world of colours, whirls, stripes, dots; configurations of inhuman complexity and beauty.

Certain stones, when I break them open, give off a quick flash of stink, of sulphur, or petrol, or the ocean, (seaweed? old fish?). I know as I fill my head with the brief whiff of stony breath that the smell was sealed away, over how many millions of years ago?

Sometimes I'll polish a piece of stone and it'll gradually show a semblance of water, or the night sky, or flames, or honeycomb, or feathers, or snakeskin, or clouds, or melting ice cream and I am delighted and surprised, charmed.

In the past, stone was used to tell stories, to let people know about the Gods and Queens and Princes, the athletes and victors, the famous and the glorious, the vanquished and the foes. Stone was the best material to serve man's grandest ambitions. I don't want to make the stone my servant: a much bigger wilder story can be shown by the stone itself, of its history, of the earth's, and the universe's: the geologists of the C19th read in the stone a better explanation of our origins than the fabulous mix of myth, poetry, and history told in Genesis. Perhaps I use the human form to introduce people to the stone itself, so it can tell its story, which is part of my story, our story.

The word angel is derived from the Sanskrit Anjiras, meaning messenger from the gods to man. It seems to me that stones can also be seen as messengers from the gods. They are carrying information from our past, our creator.

The stones whisper to us about things older than we can conceive, gloriously mysterious, yet they are hard, and real; I can touch them with my hands, look into them with a microscope. Here, now, I make my marks on them, and then they carry on with their journey. Some of these stones are over 3 billion years old, and it is just possible that they could last for another 3 billion, becoming then messengers from us.

The looks on the faces of the angels are not planned as such, they arrive and surprise me often with their softness and sadness, and strength and calm. But like all good angels, they have a certain graveness, an objectivity, a touch of the infinite, and a certain compassion.

The discs, lunar or solar, are also like angels, heavenly bodies, stars, whirling in dark space, carrying information about our origins and throwing out light to us.

The great discs of our solar system, the planets, our moon, the sun, are embedded deep in the history and creation of our planet. The Disc is the mother of all shapes, primal and ubiquitous,  responded to by all life forms in the shape of the sun, the disc of light, photons streaming through to all of us here on earth. And galaxies are spiral discs, and in sub atomic physics, innumerable tiny circles dance and jiggle together, and in our our solar system we whirl together in great swooping cycles around our mother sun.

Emily Young, 2003


EARTH ANGEL PROJECT

The Earth Angel Project consists of placing twelve large (at least three tonnes in weight) partially carved stone heads around the world.Three are already sited, with four more in planning stage. The heads have the demeanour of wildness, gravity and beneficence. They will stand both as testaments to our nobler aspirations and as exemplars of the geological history of our earth.

Each one can be seen as acting as a kind of prism between the past and the future. They will be presented with accompanying information spelling out their geological history, age etc.

Each piece of stone is a complete piece of nature in its own right, found in a quarry, with no sawn sides. The raw surface skin is left so that the natural history of each piece of stone can be seen.

Our aims are:

1. To present the story of stone as a literal embodiment of the planets past, with an emphasis on the enormous time scales involved, leading back to the creation of the planet;

2. To allow the stones to tell their own stories, by giving the stones a face, a voice.

3. To invite people to imagine a time in the distant future where these heads might still survive, and be seen;

4. To provide work and training for local stone masons around the construction of these sites.

This project is in no way religious in intent or practice.

We already have three installed in Paris and London, with plans under way for China, the USA, Australia, India, Brazil and Italy.

I call these stone carvings Earth Angels, consciously using the Sanskrit origin of the word angel, (i.e. Anjiras, meaning messenger), as the best word to describe their function. They are “art”, sculptures, but they also carry a rich, particular and literal story just as pieces of stone, of their origins and the creation of our planet and universe. I see the stones as kinds of ancestors, speaking to us from aeons ago. Messengers from the past.

Because of the durability of the material, it is possible to imagine the heads lasting for many more years, the quartzite pieces for instance having a life span, potentially, of millions of years. Some of these pieces could plausibly survive into the future and be seen millions of years from now by future inhabitants of the planet or the galaxy. Messengers from us.

I always leave some of the original quarry skin of the stone showing, so that it’s formation in nature can be seen and touched, experienced.

Some sitings are public commissions, while others will be paid for by private benefactors.

Emily Young.