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<title>Ashley Sheekey</title>
<link>https://ashleysheekey.co.uk</link>
<lastBuildDate>Wed, 02 Apr 2025 00:00:00 +0100</lastBuildDate>
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<description>Latest writing by Ashley Sheekey</description>
<item>
<title>Hjorths Fabrik Apprenticeship / Collection 01</title>
<link>https://ashleysheekey.co.uk/writing/hjorths-fabrik-apprenticeship-collection-01</link>
<guid>https://ashleysheekey.co.uk/writing/hjorths-fabrik-apprenticeship-collection-01</guid>
<pubDate>Wed, 02 Apr 2025 00:00:00 +0100</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[
<p>
Notes</br>
Tuesday 1st April 2025</br>
Hove / Bornholm</br>
</p>
<p><span class="kt-smallcaps">Last summer I</span> spent seven weeks working as an apprentice at <a href="https://hjorthsfabrik.dk/en/fabrikken/">Hjorths Fabrik</a> <img alt="" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/hjorths-fabrik-apprenticeship-collection-01/6992d881af-1743607135/factory-shop-front-film-q80.jpg">, a ceramic factory and museum in Rønne, the largest town on the Danish island, <img alt="" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/hjorths-fabrik-apprenticeship-collection-01/051c4bc586-1743607135/ronne-shoreline-q80.jpg"> <img alt="" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/hjorths-fabrik-apprenticeship-collection-01/1a3f5613f4-1743607135/sandvig-sunset-1600x-q80.jpg"> Bornholm.</p>
<p>I applied for the apprenticeship to give myself focussed time to improve my throwing skills, wanting to learn from people more practiced and experience than myself. I had been feeling limited in what I could make, lucky on the occasions that something pulled from the wheel had a likeness to a sketch or an image in my mind. On good days I could throw something I felt pleased with and reproduce it a few times over. Later — more honest — looking however, would reveal discrepancies between the original and each subsequent attempt, these subtle differences often missing the essence of what I enjoyed in the initial form. I would also notice that I couldn't recall the specific movements of my hands in the clay, their positions at various stages of the process, the physical motion that produced a particularly perfect, gentle curve. I wanted to build this muscle memory so I could rely on it as a base to make work from. I wanted to come to forms I thought were beautiful on purpose as well as by chance. </p>
<hr />
<p>Most of my days as an apprentice were spent sat at an old kick-wheel in the throwing room, <img alt="" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/hjorths-fabrik-apprenticeship-collection-01/c76378c55a-1743607135/me-in-throwing-room-medium-format-1600x-q80.jpg"> my right leg settling into a rhythmic back and forth over the worn flywheel underfoot. <img alt="" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/hjorths-fabrik-apprenticeship-collection-01/998e0bef12-1743607135/throwing-room-film-q80.jpg"> I started working to reproduce a popular teacup <img alt="" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/hjorths-fabrik-apprenticeship-collection-01/a0a0d5b4d7-1743607134/leather-hard-mugs-q80.jpg"> <img alt="" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/hjorths-fabrik-apprenticeship-collection-01/37bcbe8b92-1743607135/hjorths-teacup-and-hollyhocks-q80.jpg"> from the factory's longstanding range of tableware, throwing the body over and over again while aiming for specific dimensions from a set weight of clay. For visual reference I had a bisque fired model and a couple of pieces that had been freshly thrown by factory manager, Karina, to demonstrate the process and the appropriate grips. As well as the technical skill involved, her examples also demonstrated that there was <em>some</em> tolerance within the set dimensions; knowing the object well let her judge which of her reproductions fell within the acceptable bounds.</p>
<p>At the end of each day I would look over my work and notice the outliers, pieces thrown to the correct dimensions, yet somehow wrong in the context of the larger group. <img alt="" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/hjorths-fabrik-apprenticeship-collection-01/638d883f81-1743607135/early-mugs-q80.jpg"> When viewed en masse I could more clearly see where I had failed to translate the original form. It might be that the very slight outward taper from the mug walls into the rim would be too apparent, or perhaps the overall taper of the shape would not be apparent enough. Something about it would be undeniably off. <img alt="" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/hjorths-fabrik-apprenticeship-collection-01/711fba9a0f-1743607135/early-mug-cross-sections-q80.jpg"> This process of translating very-close-looking into a physical object was something I found extremely satisfying, in part because being able to get near to the ‘truth’ of the object represented a big progression in my throwing ability. <img alt="" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/hjorths-fabrik-apprenticeship-collection-01/18d2e146a8-1743607135/mug-trimming-at-wheel-q80.jpg"> Careful looking produced a more faithful translation. </p>
<hr />
<p>Since getting back from Bornholm I have been developing my own collection of tableware. There’s a coffee cup I made in 2023 which I have come to see as an ideal of sorts, and I have used its characteristics as the start-point for new pieces. <img alt="" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/hjorths-fabrik-apprenticeship-collection-01/2305443820-1743603140/p24-001-group-04-1600x-q80.jpg"> It has pleasing proportions, a soft 'V' shaped body, a nice tapered rim, and two curved indents that cradle your index and middle fingers while you drink. The glaze is soft and diffuses colour across the surface, a shiny coat that is not too obscuring of the form beneath. It has qualities that come together to be something I find lovely, basically. It’s been so satisfying to come back to this piece now that I have the skill to translate it from my much practised <em>close-looking</em>.</p>
<p>I think this first collection will be formed of a cup, a bowl, and a plate — each in two sizes. <img alt="" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/hjorths-fabrik-apprenticeship-collection-01/7f8a1f079a-1743607770/p24-002-bowls-02-1600x-q80.jpg"> These are the forms I have been focussed on developing first as they feel like the minimum required parts. I’m also considering including a jug, but we’ll see. (Jugs are objects I really enjoy making and <a href="/writing/generous-objects-a-jug">thinking about</a>, but don’t actually use in my day-to-day life, so the inclusion of one feels less urgent. I think they are an interesting object to potters... they’ve become a standard as I see it, hard to resist.)</p>
<p>Other than the coffee cup for which I had a model, I have been throwing freely <img alt="" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/hjorths-fabrik-apprenticeship-collection-01/e21d2fba50-1743607839/glazed-mugs-01-1600x-q80.jpg"> to give myself a lot of forms to look at rather than drawing out any ideas beforehand. Then I spend time deciding what their merits are, picking and choosing aspects from each piece to try and bring together into one harmonious form. I’ll start documenting the making process here, alongside some of the notes I keep when thinking about how to develop each object and the collection as a whole. <span class="kt-end">●</span></p>
]]></description>
</item>
<item>
<title>Generous Objects: A Jug</title>
<link>https://ashleysheekey.co.uk/writing/generous-objects-a-jug</link>
<guid>https://ashleysheekey.co.uk/writing/generous-objects-a-jug</guid>
<pubDate>Mon, 03 Jul 2023 00:00:00 +0100</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[
<p>
Notes</br>
Sunday 2nd July 2023</br>
Hove</br>
</p>
<p>The jug is a generous object, or at least one that presents an opportunity for generosity. I’ve noticed from being in restaurants and cafés with friends that there is a pleasure derived from being the one to to fill everyone’s glasses from the communal water jug. The person pouring takes care to distribute the contents as evenly as possible, filling their own cup last. It’s one of those small acts that gets interpreted as being revealing of person’s character - their willingness to share, consideration of others needs etc. It’s an easy, kind thing to do - a simple gesture that makes people think well of you. It’s in these situations that a jug seems to embody feelings of care and tenderness; they become vessels through which a person can offer such acts to others.</p>
<p>An image which depicts these feelings is Johannes Vermeer’s painting The Milkmaid <img alt="" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/generous-objects-a-jug/d697392f7b-1688383190/the-milkmaid-johannes-vermeer-1600x-q80.jpg"> (c. 1657-1658), held in the <a href="https://www.rijksmuseum.nl/en/collection/SK-A-2344">Rijksmuseum</a>. Though the woman is painted alone in the scene, she appears to be in the process of baking something, presumably to be shared with others judging by the quantity of ingredients. She pours from the jug with such softness, gently cradling one hand around its belly while the other, grasping the handle, guides the stream of milk beyond the spout and into the bowl. She looks totally absorbed in her task, concentrating on the liquid running steadily from the jug. When I look at this image, I’m also thinking of the scene that would follow it - people gathered at a table to enjoy a meal together, much noisier and more energised than the calm, quiet scene in the painting.</p>
<p>I’ve been thinking of communal eating while making these jugs, picturing them sat upon tables covered with food outside in the sunshine, people reaching across one another to load their plates and pour drinks. A classic sort of still life image in lots of ways, just with more people present. It’s a very romanticised image - one I can’t actually bring to life myself given that I don’t have a garden to construct it in - but this idealised aspect of the image is also what makes it pleasing. It’s a simple little fantasy in which I happily fill the glasses of my guests while they look gratefully upon the table I’ve laid with an abundant lunch. None of the food is overcooked or badly seasoned; no one bickers or finds anyone else irritating; there is plenty for everyone. After eating we all laze about and chat easily, basking in the warm afternoon sun. As in Vermeer’s painting, serving others becomes a virtuous act, to enact slowly and to find pleasure in. </p>
<p>The imagined scenario I’m describing here is also partly informed by looking through cookbooks at the stylised images of food. One in particular that sticks in my mind comes from Anna Jones' book, <em><a href="https://annajones.co.uk/my-books">A Modern Way to Eat</a></em> from 2014. In my memory the photograph, taken by <a href="https://www.instagram.com/brianwferry/">Brian Ferry</a>, shows a large platter with a crisp-looking salad piled on top of it, juicy red tomatoes and some kind of cheese all coated under a glistening dressing. But the stronger sense of the general atmosphere of the image: the apparent warmth implied by the light cast over the tablecloth, the sense of it being early evening, the buzz of people as they approach the table ready to eat and drink. It’s an image I’ve been thinking of a lot when photographing my work <img alt="" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/generous-objects-a-jug/11a086134f-1688383531/small-cream-plate-in-background-of-scene-1-1600x-q80.jpg">, wanting to imbue this atmosphere of communal gathering into a staged image that exists totally separately from anything like the aforementioned scenario. Interestingly, searching for the image in the cookbook to reference here, I was surprised to find it different than I remembered - no tomatoes or cheese at all, but a totally different plate of food comprised of squash and lettuce. This image was flicked past in search of the one I held in my mind, not totally able to describe its detail, but sure I would know it when I saw it. It took a bit of convincing to realise that this <img alt="" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/generous-objects-a-jug/e8b1b4476f-1688383190/anna-jones-summer-image-q80.jpg"> was the photograph, and then an understanding that this literal image had essentially acted as a start point for the formation of my own scenario, the overall atmosphere the same but filled with specifics that are to my preference, in this instance, tomatoes and cheese. </p>
<p>It’s interesting to think about the power of a singular object to convey such a strong narrative or fantasy, how easily we are able to project ideas and images onto them, to conjure all the other elements needed to form a cohesive narrative. A person might look at a jug and imagine grasping the handle, how heavy it would be when full of water, the liquid flowing steadily from the spout as they tilt it, how they could make a show of pouring from it at height to lengthen the stream. I want a jug that I make to have this capability, for a person to look at it and have an idealised scene– made specific with preferences of their own – brought to mind. <span class="kt-end">●</span></p>
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<item>
<title>Plants Contained Within Railings</title>
<link>https://ashleysheekey.co.uk/writing/plants-contained-within-railings</link>
<guid>https://ashleysheekey.co.uk/writing/plants-contained-within-railings</guid>
<pubDate>Fri, 16 Jun 2023 00:00:00 +0100</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[
<p>
Notes</br>
Thursday 15th June 2023</br>
Hove</br>
</p>
<p>Iron railings run parallel along the seafront promenade in Hove, painted in peeling layers <img alt="" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/plants-contained-within-railings/8eff4aa31e-1686929102/hove-seafront-ironwork-railings-1600x-q80.jpg"> of turquoise and green paint that are many years thick. During the summer months the railings that line the grassy edge of the lawns are transformed, hosting a bounty of unruly plants. </p>
<p>These railings are more simple in design than those on the southern side of the walkway – less ornate and shapely detail, more utilitarian and prong-like <img alt="" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/plants-contained-within-railings/5a8db9eabc-1686928648/hove-lawns-railings-2-1600x-q80.jpg"> From around May or June, the negative space between the iron spindles reduces, filled by plants that grow rampantly in mad, tangled clumps. <img alt="" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/plants-contained-within-railings/69b272d5b0-1686928648/hove-lawns-railings-1-1600x-q80.jpg"> It’s a chaotic addition to the otherwise static order of the railings, but each seems to improve the other. The grasses appear softer, more pliable against the unyielding metal. The railings behave like a frame, presenting the plants for admiration. This year there are more poppies than I remember previously, their red petals burning in brilliant contrast to the grass, and some small white flowers I’ve not seen before with a bulbous <img alt="" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/plants-contained-within-railings/2991237a3d-1686928648/hove-lawns-railings-3-1600x-q80.jpg"> bell shape to them. </p>
<p>At the end of the season the plants turn leggy and brittle <img alt="" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/plants-contained-within-railings/d86e8a729b-1686928648/hove-lawns-railings-4-1600x-q80.jpg">, spent after long, dry weeks of sun. Foliage dies back <img alt="" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/plants-contained-within-railings/b3f4cb4420-1686928648/hove-lawns-railings-5-1600x-q80.jpg"> Stems that once energetically wove themselves among the metal take on a similarly static quality. <span class="kt-end">●</span></p>
]]></description>
</item>
<item>
<title>From Ferwig to Cardigan</title>
<link>https://ashleysheekey.co.uk/writing/from-ferwig-to-cardigan</link>
<guid>https://ashleysheekey.co.uk/writing/from-ferwig-to-cardigan</guid>
<pubDate>Wed, 29 May 2019 00:00:00 +0100</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[
<p>
Walking Diary</br>
Friday 10th May 2019</br>
Ferwig</br>
</p>
<p><span class="kt-smallcaps">This morning we’re walking into Cardigan</span> to explore the town for the first time. Getting there along the road should take about an hour. We set off around 08:45, looking forward to getting breakfast once we arrive. </p>
<p>In the week since we arrived to Ferwig for my residency, we’ve so far only walked two different routes from the studio — one taking us to Gwbert, where we get a drink and a portion of chips at the local hotel, the other a running route to Mwnt beach — so it’s good to be adding a third to our collection. We take a road <img alt="The image is focused on the road in the center. It is between two grassy verges and bends to the right and out of frame. On the left in the distance there is a telegraph pole. The sky is bright blue behind thick white clouds." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/from-ferwig-to-cardigan/fe20acf917-1685113112/1-path-from-ferwig-q80.jpg"> to the left of a small disused building, its sign reading ‘John Player Special’, making our way uphill along the narrow road for a while. </p>
<p>There is so much space here. So wide open and green, all lush and alive. The thick hedgerows <img alt="A road bends through this image, snaking slightly to the left before disappearing behind a hedgerow. On the right the foreground is taken up by a lush green hedgerow that is thick with small white wildflowers." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/from-ferwig-to-cardigan/1c55801bea-1685113113/2-path-from-ferwig-q80.jpg"> that line the roads are peppered with yellow, white, purple wildflowers that seem too delicate to survive in the wind but hold on somehow. Made up of long grasses and countless ferns, they look dense enough to swallow you should you fall in. It’s like walking through a perfectly imagined vision of the countryside. </p>
<p>When nearing a downward bend <img alt="The road in the center of the image bends down to the left, curving behind a hedgrow and out of sight. There is dense green woodland surrounding the path." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/from-ferwig-to-cardigan/5582cfd32c-1685113113/4-woodpecker-curve-q80.jpg"> in the road we hear what we think is a woodpecker — though neither of us has seen or heard one before, so in retrospect this seems a strange assumption to make — and spend some time being still, listening. We want to locate the noise so we might catch a glimpse of the bird but have no luck. Further on we pass a farm with lots of buildings in varying sizes and materials, a mix of in-use and not. Some of the buildings are just full to the brim of stuff — chopped wood, bricks, old machinery, small gates and things like that. <img alt="The image shows two old, rusted objects sitting in a field. They look like hollow, cylindrical metal drums of sorts. They have no bottom to them though, and the top half of them is made of metal bars. They sit among lots of trees and the bigger of the two objects is turned onto its side." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/from-ferwig-to-cardigan/d2209ecd81-1685113113/3-farm-materials-q80.jpg"> I watch the cows stare at us as we walk by. </p>
<p>For maybe the next 10 minutes or so the scene around us is largely unchanging, rolling hills in the distance sitting behind the river. We move through the view, passing the occasional idyllic countryside house. </p>
<p>The next part of the walk is different — not a town, maybe a village at a push. Really though, it’s a road with more houses on either side; people have neighbours here. <img alt="A road runs down the center of the image. To the left are a few bungalows, their roofs just visible beyond a grassy verge. In front of the bungalows are two Welsh flags blowing in the wind." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/from-ferwig-to-cardigan/610cdb1a5a-1685113113/6-bungalows-w-flags-q80.jpg"> Some places have neat front gardens, cordoned off from the road with red brick walls, while others are left wilder with longer grasses. Pretty much everyone seems to have a greenhouse. The architectural style is very varied, <img alt="The image shows a house and smaller garage to its left. They both feature a strange, ornate facade that looks as though it has been stuck on. The house also has this same facade on either end, making the whole building look as though it were a model." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/from-ferwig-to-cardigan/d5e7cfc3c7-1685113114/10-folly-house-q80.jpg"> newer homes tower over the bungalows opposite, but the space around them prevents them from being too imposing. It’s interesting to see new build homes in this way, resisting homogeneity. I have gotten so used to seeing them appear in bulk, each one barely different from the last. In a place like this, maybe one or two plots of land become available at a time, as opposed to whole fields succumbing to developers plans. It makes for a much more interesting setting. The newer homes also tend to have pavements outside them — presumably because they have to — so there’s a sort of stop/start rhythm to the path. </p>
<p>Up ahead a blue metal fence runs along a grass verge that sits above the road. <img alt="In the background to the right is a large beiege coloured house with a dark red roof. In the foreground a blue metal fence sits atop a grassy verge. Some pink flowers are in bloom on the grass behind it." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/from-ferwig-to-cardigan/290a80e2d7-1685113113/7-blue-fence-q80.jpg"> I assume we are approaching a primary school but am surprised to discover a bungalow. <img alt="A white bungalow with a greyish–brown roof is in the background of the image. A blue fence enters the frame from the right hand side, spanning three quarters of the image before stopping next to a small brick wall that leads up the driveway to the property. Behind the fence is the front garden. There is a beautiful red flowering bush in bloom next to a rounded green hedge." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/from-ferwig-to-cardigan/bfe80f6c6d-1685113114/8-blue-fence-q80.jpg"> I don’t associate this kind of fencing with residential buildings — it seems so ill–fitting and bizarre, striking me as an unlikely choice. We talk for a bit about how something so simple as the colour of a fence can so clearly influence the assumptions you make towards a place. It’s strange that such small moments like this can feel significant, somehow becoming the most intriguing part of a walk. Occurrences that you don’t expect manage to command your attention, anchoring you in the moment you’re moving through, forcing you to slow and notice them. <span class="kt-end">●</span></p>
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<item>
<title>Walking Home: Heybridge to Maldon</title>
<link>https://ashleysheekey.co.uk/writing/walking-home-heybridge-to-maldon</link>
<guid>https://ashleysheekey.co.uk/writing/walking-home-heybridge-to-maldon</guid>
<pubDate>Wed, 08 May 2019 00:00:00 +0100</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[
<p>
Walking Diary</br>
Tuesday 16th April 2019</br>
Maldon</br>
</p>
<p><span class="kt-smallcaps">I’ve just had a haircut</span> and am walking back home; it’ll take about 45–minutes. I decide to walk through an alleyway that I vaguely understand to be a shortcut, or at least a route that provides a bit of distance from the busy causeway. Normally I would decide against this as I’m not totally sure of the way, but today I must be feeling less concerned about getting lost or hitting a dead–end. There are no time constraints on me either, so I don’t worry. I pass through the narrow alley, crossing over a short bridge above a tiny stream. <img alt="This image shows a concrete path leading off to the right, disappearing behind a small grassy hill. We can see that the photo has been taken while standing on a bridge, two wooden railings on either side of the image alognside the path. To the left is a tall willow tree, and in the background to the right are five or six parked cars." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/walking-home-heybridge-to-maldon/7d81dae91b-1685113115/heybridge-shortcut-2-q80.jpg"></p>
<p>The path is for cyclists as well as pedestrians and it snakes its way through long grass to my right, and lush green trees which line the stream on my left. Ahead is a large, ugly looking corporate building <img alt="In the foreground of the image is a green, grassy verge. The area looks quite dry, and the small trees in front of the verge are without leaves. In the distance, beyond this verge we can see a beige warehouse–like building. To its left is light grey warehouse." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/walking-home-heybridge-to-maldon/5c908c2500-1685113115/heybridge-shortcut-3-q80.jpg"> with a warehouse alongside it. I don’t know what kind of business occurs in these buildings, whether they are shops or offices, and the acronym displayed front and centre does little to enlighten me. The scene is uninspiring; no more or less worth walking than the way I would usually, maybe not worth having discovered at all. Instead of walking alongside a busy road, on this route I walk through a couple of quiet carparks — vehicles stationary, bar one passing lorry.</p>
<p>Still, it’s while walking this new route that I begin thinking more about the interesting mix of rural <img alt="A green tree is just off center in this image. It is surrounded by long grasses and smaller bushes in varying shades if green and brown. The area is dense and overgrown. In the background there are some distant buildings. The sky is clear and blue." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/walking-home-heybridge-to-maldon/a11ee93f09-1685113114/heybridge-shortcut-1-q80.jpg"> and industrial landscape here, noting that this combination feels more apparent lately, heightened by the ongoing developments. Each time I come home I am struck by them, how they attempt to coax the town’s edges further and further outwards. I find it quite jarring to be among this near constant state of construction here, aware that I am becoming less and less familiar with the place. Maybe this is why I feel more inclined to explore like today. In my mind I always picture this place as a small town, feeling that I know it in its entirety. This isn’t true though — like everyone else, I know the places I go and have been before. But it’s never felt big, and despite its expanding edges it still doesn’t. The new housing developments feel like separate places; islands. Places that I don’t need to know. Other than their proximity, nothing links them to this place. They don’t make attempt to reference the place which they claim to be part of, and as such their presence feels forced, clumsily elbowing their way into fields and gaps. It’s not that I’m against new housing and developments, I just wish they didn’t have to be so dull. It feels to me as though no thought has gone into them — no interesting questions have been asked about the ways that people might like to live in towns like this. Despite the loss of some of these fields — hidden away behind branded hoardings — the town feels greener and more alive with Spring than any other year I can remember. Having spent five weeks prior to this in Seville — a drier, hardier place, yet still generously perfumed with orange blossom — our local landscape welcomes us back with an exaggerated version of British Spring time. Vibrant, practically neon, rapeseed is everywhere, oversized tulips stand open and enticing in front gardens, and the magnolia <img alt="In this image is a red brick bungalow, the view of which is mostly obscurred by the front garden and the red brick gate leading into it. In the foreground there is an ornate, black metal fence leading into the garden. There is a magnolia tree coming into bloom just off center to the right of the image. The sky is clear and bright blue." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/walking-home-heybridge-to-maldon/6d0fc0472d-1685113116/wantz-chase-3-q80.jpg"> still lingers, to my surprise. The notion of front gardens being a generous gift to the street and passers-by is something we have been talking about a lot lately. <img alt="This image shows a front garden with small yellow flowers. Just underneath the yellow flowers we can see a few red tulips. The flowers are arranged in a circular space with lots of greenery beneath them. Above the flowers is a willow tree. In the background is a white bungalow with a red tiled roof, though it is mostly obscured from view by the willow tree." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/walking-home-heybridge-to-maldon/180c72bcbb-1685113116/wantz-chase-2-q80.jpg"></p>
<p>About halfway home a new retail development has been built. It’s unclear to me if it’s finished or not — the shops are open but there are still corrugated metal hoardings up, <img alt="There is a white metal fence running along the left hand side of this image. It is made of corrugated metal, and has been ererected as a temporary measure to hide building works. It runs adjacent to the pavement." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/walking-home-heybridge-to-maldon/5a49451a28-1685113115/metal-hoardings-q80.jpg"> and a nearby bus stop is being engulfed by metal fencing. <img alt="" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/walking-home-heybridge-to-maldon/fa93c0d4c4-1685113114/fenced-in-bus-stop-q80.jpg"> The whole area has been designed to be accessed via car, so walking by it feels strange, like I am more exposed. I do that awkward little half run when crossing the road, putting a hand up to thank the car driver for not running me over as they pull off the roundabout and into the Costa–fronted complex. </p>
<p>Once up the hill I walk through a chase <img alt="This image shows part of a road. On the floor to the left of the image there is an arrow painted to inform drivers they must turn right. To the right of the image there is a zebra crossing. A black car can be seen just passing it. In the distance there is a tall tree with beautiful red blossom behind a manicured hedge." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/walking-home-heybridge-to-maldon/2d25a3ab53-1685113115/wantz-chase-1-q80.jpg"> that leads me home, passing by my old school. <img alt="This image shows a group of six red brick buildings, looked at over the top of some metal railings through a gap in the trees. These buildings are just beyond a large green school field. There is a white football goal in view in the right half of the image" src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/walking-home-heybridge-to-maldon/0a9eb7debe-1685113115/lower-plume-q80.jpg"> I check my phone and am surprised that so little time has passed, that it could be moving so slowly. <span class="kt-end">●</span></p>
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</item>
<item>
<title>Dériving: Can it be Experienced in Retrospect?</title>
<link>https://ashleysheekey.co.uk/writing/deriving-can-it-be-experienced-in-retrospect</link>
<guid>https://ashleysheekey.co.uk/writing/deriving-can-it-be-experienced-in-retrospect</guid>
<pubDate>Tue, 07 May 2019 00:00:00 +0100</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[
<p>
Essay</br>
Monday 8th April 2019</br>
Seville</br>
</p>
<p><span class="kt-smallcaps">To dérive is to drift</span> with purpose and critical awareness through an urban landscape. It is being observant within a situation you have constructed in order to explore, to feel present in and attuned to your surroundings. According to Debord, “dérives involve playful-constructive behavior and awareness of psychogeographical effects, and are thus quite different from the classic notions of journey or stroll” . As opposed to setting out with little expectation or plan, when dériving we should be purposeful and have clear intention, perhaps using our time to consider questions such as the following:</p>
<ul>
<li>How do we define one place in relation to another? What demarcates the ‘limits’ of each place if not a physical boundary?</li>
<li>How do we feel moving through place to place? Does our behaviour change at all?</li>
<li>What are the aspects of this place that influence these particular feelings or encourage a specific mode of behaviour?</li>
<li>What are the qualities of this place that inform its image, and how do we imagine its image might differ between individuals, if at all?</li>
</ul>
<p>In considering such questions we become active participants within public place, drifting purposefully. But I wonder, what exactly this purpose is, and what should our intentions be for this personal data that we collect from our experience? Are we looking to make improvements to the quality of our urban landscapes, or simply attempting to better understand them (and ourselves within them) as they are? The Situationists believed that a dérive presents a means of getting beyond the predictable banality of daily life. It offers the chance to engage with spaces in a way that goes beyond the usual and the routines to which we have become accustomed, allowing us the opportunity to see them afresh, and to recognise ourselves as truly being a part of our surroundings; affecting them as much as they affect us perhaps. </p>
<p>The presence and meaning of geographical borders is a pertinent consideration of dérivers, as discussed by Debord:</p>
<p>> “Today the different unities of atmosphere and of dwellings are not precisely marked off, but are surrounded by more or less extended and indistinct bordering regions. The most general change that dérive experience leads to proposing is the constant diminution of these border regions, up to the point of their complete suppression.”</p>
<p>We might be motivated to dérive as it presents the opportunity to traverse borders and regions within the urban landscape, moving freely through a myriad of spaces and communities. In doing so we engage in a rejection of these borders — refusing to be limited in these constructed situations in the ways that we are in usual, everyday life. </p>
<p>In writing this I have started to wonder if we can say we have dériven in retrospect? Can the term be applied after the fact, before we knew what we were doing, or in the absence of clear intention? In beginning to learn about this theory and subsequently the beliefs and values of the Situationist International, I have been thinking back to walks through urban spaces where I have been aware of the landscape changing as I move forward — not in a clearly defined way, but more so in the feelings that were evoked in me as a result. </p>
<p>Shortly after arriving in Valencia back in January, we took a walk through the city to visit the beach. The journey was about 40 minutes on foot, so struck us as a perfect opportunity to better familiarise ourselves with layout of the city, exploring beyond the areas we had started to become accustomed with already. Thinking back to the walk now I could break it up into maybe 3 distinct parts before we reached the beach, even though the route existed almost entirely along a straight line. </p>
<p>The first part of our walk was set in the old town we were living: residential streets lined with mid–rise buildings, more tourists due to the close proximity of areas of cultural interest (the cathedral, <img alt="In the right half of the image is Valencia's Cathedral, built in a predominantly gothic style. From this angle we see an arched doorway beneath a large round window decorated with a complex star pattern. To the left of the cathedral is an ornate pink building with a domed roof covered with blue tiles. The foreground shows the public square in which these buildings sit. People are walking around alone or in couples, enjoying the last of the afternoon sun before the square is covered in shadow." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/deriving-can-it-be-experienced-in-retrospect/d98006f59e-1685113118/cathedral-q80.jpg"> beautiful public squares, an old 14<sup>th</sup> century gate), very few cars, and lots of café’s and bars dotted around. This familiarity didn’t really last for long given that we had not yet explored much beyond our immediate context — aside from the route we took to the park <img alt="A dusty biege path runs through a grassy green field, it's intersections creating a cross shape across the image. Several trees in the foreground have lost their leaves and are looking bare. There are a lot of trees in the background of the image, all varying shads of green." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/deriving-can-it-be-experienced-in-retrospect/44d6247094-1685113116/1-jardin-del-turia-q80.jpg"> almost daily — it didn’t take much time to feel like we were in a very different space, keenly observing our new surroundings. The majority of the journey was made up of this middle section, taking place on a very long, straight road through the city. The buildings here were considerably bigger, more high–rise apartment blocks <img alt="Two large apartment blocks are in the background of this image. They are viewed from underneath, at street level. They are a peachy–orange colour, and some of the balconies have green netting over them. The view of them is partially obscured by a tree in the bottom right corner of the image." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/deriving-can-it-be-experienced-in-retrospect/904aaf9510-1685113116/4-apartment-buildings-q80.jpg"> — presumably housing local people as opposed to the city’s tourists — with foyers opening straight onto the wide, tree–lined pavements that straddled the busy roads. Beautiful university buildings and libraries were fronted with generously wide steps providing space for people to gather, large groups sitting and catching up with each other between lessons. We commented that this would be an amazing city to be a student in — so many amazing public spaces to be with your friends, and a general slow, relaxed pace to the city. Despite this perceived slowness, the people walking on these streets felt like they were on more purposeful journeys, likely on their commute to work or university as opposed to wandering the streets for pleasure in the way tourists do. There were still café’s and shops along the way, but they appeared less inclined to draw people in in large numbers, instead having just a few seats outside their shop fronts. I had the impression that the people using them went there all the time. While continuing on this long road we spoke more about what it would be like to live in Valencia, imagining a scenario where one of us would take up further study here should the right opportunity appear. Maybe we spoke about this most during this part of the journey because this area appeared to give the most ‘realistic’ impression of everyday life in Valencia. </p>
<p>This part of the journey did not really come to a clear end so much as the next suddenly began. As I’m writing this I have been wondering if maybe the ‘end’ of a place can only be defined in relation to the start of a new one, and without this means of comparison, each place could just go on indefinitely. Does the end of a place ever become apparent without the start of another?</p>
<p>This final part of the walk was defined by a palpable shift in atmosphere, giving rise to feelings of uncertainty and apprehension for both of us. Sitting by the beach <img alt="A collection of footsteps left in the sand on a beach. The footsteps have been left by multiple people going in multiple directions, demonstrated by the different tread marks left by the shoes." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/deriving-can-it-be-experienced-in-retrospect/f578899c3a-1685113118/beach-q80.jpg"> and speaking after, we agreed that we felt less safe and more uncomfortable, picking up our pace to get beyond these streets. Instead of walking side by side and chatting as we had been previously, we walked separately, more single file as if to take up less space. It was odd because the buildings here were more typically domestic than elsewhere on our route, painted in a beautiful array of bright colours. <img alt="In the foreground of the image is a zebra crossing. Beyond this, a row of beautiful ornate houses, painted in green, orange and peach sit to the right of the image. There is a small table and four chairs to the right of the zebra crossing. A person crouches down near these, almost out of shot. Other than this person there is no one in the image. It appear eerily quiet." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/deriving-can-it-be-experienced-in-retrospect/0cf73790fe-1685113117/8-ghost-town-3-copy-q80.jpg"> However, they had clearly been abandoned, existing now as run–down versions of any former glory. There was a lot of work being done on these streets, <img alt="A row of houses sit on either side of this image. The buildings look to be quite grand and beautiful. Running through the middle of the image towards the horizon is the street where reconstrucitve works are being done. The road has been dug up to allow for these repairs, and workmen in high–vis clothing are to the left of the image, undertaking various tasks." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/deriving-can-it-be-experienced-in-retrospect/6d338cbdfd-1685113117/6-ghost-town-1-q80.jpg"> perhaps to regenerate them, but for who it wasn’t clear — the former inhabitants appearing to have left a while ago, whether at their own will or not I don’t know. There was an eerie feeling about the place thanks to its curious emptiness, and it generally just felt like a ghost town. <img alt="The focus of the image is a derelict resedential building, two or three storeys high. The building is mainly biege, the lower third is painted yellow and brownish–red. The building has no windows, and a green net hangs over a balcony on the right hand side. A man walks past along a narrow pavement to the right of the building." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/deriving-can-it-be-experienced-in-retrospect/a55c5a1a18-1685113117/5-derelict-building-q80.jpg"> It’s strange that this feeling persisted because in reality there was so much activity with the people working to re–pave the sections of road that had been cut away and whatever else they were doing. But actually, I think it was their presence that heightened this feeling we had of being out of place, walking somewhere we shouldn’t. The noise and chaos they were making sort of implied that they didn’t expect anyone to be there, that it didn’t matter what they did because they weren’t disturbing anyone. It felt quite bizarre to go from this eerie commotion to turning the corner and suddenly being able to see the sea and the horizon, feeling the sense of calm this nearly always brings with it. <img alt="An image of the sea and the horizon line. The sea takes up the bottom two thirds of the image, and is a denim–like blue in contrast to the light blue of the sky. The colour along the horizon line fades to be almost white. Across the center of the image a small wave begins to break. The sea is calm, waves lapping gently." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/deriving-can-it-be-experienced-in-retrospect/a8f9a10b23-1685113118/sea-q80.jpg"></p>
<p>Looking back to this walk a few months later, I would consider it to be a dérive. While it clearly lacks the initial intention to construct an opportunity to explore the city in this particular way, I would argue there is (or should be) space for this activity to be recognised and engaged with in hindsight. I realise that I prefer to take the time to think back over my walks and time spent in urban places retrospectively, noticing what sticks in my mind and presents itself as being important or worthy of more analysis. In the moments when I am walking, I feel more present and able to be affected by the place when I let my observations and thoughts drift in and out of my mind with little effort to hold them there, not feeling that they have to be questioned in that moment. This way of traversing urban space is undoubtedly different from the nature of a dérive, but it results in what appears to be a similar consideration of the landscape, and a belief in the importance of analysing the world around you from the point of view of every day life. <span class="kt-end">●</span></p>
<div class="footnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn:1">
<p><a href="http://tbook.constantvzw.org/wp-content/derivedebord.pdf">Guy Debord, Theory of the D&#233;rive, 1956, p.2.</a> </p>
</li>
<li id="fn:2">
<p><a href="http://tbook.constantvzw.org/wp-content/derivedebord.pdf">Guy Debord, Theory of the Derive, 1956, p.6.</a> </p>
</li>
</ol>
</div>
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</item>
<item>
<title>On Being Open and Affected: Jardin del Turia</title>
<link>https://ashleysheekey.co.uk/writing/on-being-open-and-affected</link>
<guid>https://ashleysheekey.co.uk/writing/on-being-open-and-affected</guid>
<pubDate>Thu, 10 Jan 2019 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[
<p>
Walking Diary</br>
Thursday 10th January 2019</br>
Valencia</br>
</p>
<p><span class="kt-smallcaps">This walk began</span> with a set destination in mind. While running through Jardin del Turia both this morning and the day before, I came across an area of the park that struck me as jarring and strange. I resolved to return and occupy this particular space purposefully, as opposed to being transient in it. </p>
<p>The space spans the width of the park, situated beneath a white bridge — one of the more modern ones in the park. Its floor is paved in grey stone slabs, with large triangle shapes made from (what I assume to be) reinforced glass arranged in diamond patterns across the center of the area. <img alt="Six pyramid–like stone objects sit beyond a large shadow cast by a bridge above. Beyond these objects are palm trees and lush green vegetation. There is bright sunlight beyond the shadows." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/on-being-open-and-affected/06a4e590a3-1685113119/unadjustednonraw-thumb-f8c-q80.jpg"> This was quite a surprising space to find in the park, or at least it was in comparison to the serene tree–lined path I’d just been running on. It was as though I had changed course unwittingly — taken a wrong turn and emerged onto this curious forecourt, once again in a city. Immediately I was tuning into traffic passing nearby, watched over by looming apartment blocks, <img alt="A group of three apartment blocks viewed from a distance. They sit behind a modern white bridge which cuts across the center of the image. The light is soft and the sky is a deep, flat blue colour. There is a shadow of a palm tree on the concrete floor in the foreground of the image." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/on-being-open-and-affected/33211cf13e-1685113119/unadjustednonraw-thumb-f78-q80.jpg"> navigating a route through cyclists. Within this grey area sat a collection of strange stone objects, shaped like small pyramids. <img alt="Five pyramid–like stone objects sit in a line, cutting across the center of the image. They are the same greyish colour as the paving slabs they sit upon.  Above them is a white bridge, its underside visible." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/on-being-open-and-affected/3b90f52f07-1685113118/unadjustednonraw-thumb-f8d-q80.jpg"> Placed at equal distance along the width of the space, it was hard to discern whether they were decorative or functional, immediately making me think of a series of drawings I started working on recently, in which ideas of confusing purpose are present. These few quick moments in this space were my initial motivation for this subsequent walk. I would come back to sit and draw elements of this space, focusing on these strange stone shapes.</p>
<hr />
<p>The distance between my entrance to the park and the grey area is around 2.5 kilometres. I had clocked this earlier on my running watch to have an idea of how long it would take me to walk there. Quite soon after setting off I realised that I was no longer focused on the destination, just enjoying the walk itself. <img alt="A group of rectangular white columns grouped together in the distance. A hanging tree branch in the foreground partially obscures the view." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/on-being-open-and-affected/a9e295a48e-1685113119/unadjustednonraw-thumb-f6f-q80.jpg"> For a while now, I’ve been thinking through the idea of developing my MA dissertation into new works that that document a search for/discovery of ‘smooth space’. Until now, I had been thinking about walking to smooth space, as opposed to the walk being the central focus. When picturing it as a location, I visualised it as a defined space — albeit a vast one — rather than a sort of developing flow state. While on this walk it seemed obvious that smooth space should be found when walking, as opposed to within a larger static environment. Never set, always moving and evolving, sprawling endlessly. These attributes clearly describe the act of walking. In light of this train of thought, the walk took on a new purpose, becoming an opportunity to try and experience smooth space. </p>
<p>On reflection, a lack of focus on my destination was crucial in opening up this new mind state. The walk cannot only be a means of getting from A to B but should be an experience in its own right. Even though I actively wanted to experience smooth space — to be sure of it somehow, as if I might be struck by an overwhelming feeling of certainty that had eluded me so far —this goal was not always at the front of my mind. Thoughts came and went with no burden on me to try and contain them, my gaze wandering and reacting to surrounding stimuli. My responses to the space were all very much in the moment, so there is some difficulty in writing about the walk retrospectively. I do remember thinking that it was as perfect as a walk might get, looking forward and contemplating the idea of continuing like this forever. There is something about walking alone that makes this kind of thinking all the more enjoyable. Had I been with someone else and decided to give voice to this thought, it would present itself as an irrational idea or worse, a clichéd statement; said for the sake of having something to say. Such scenarios are best enjoyed in the privacy of your own mind, played through slowly, free of the need for rational critique. </p>
<p>The notion of being affected by a space feels very pertinent in my research thus far. The ability to be affected seems to begin with being present — aware of the impact your surroundings have on you and vice versa. At the moment it’s winter in Valencia. The skies are clear and perfectly blue almost every day <img alt="A large greeny/yellow tree sitting to right of a biege path. The behind sky is bright blue, highlighting the yellow tones in the tree." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/on-being-open-and-affected/0ccf107900-1685113119/unadjustednonraw-thumb-f6d-q80.jpg"> — unlike any January I’ve previously known — but there’s still a distinct chill in the air that’s exaggerated when breathed in through the nose. On the day of this walk though, there was a lovely warmth emanating from the low sun, gently warming my eyelids. The light filtered through the trees in a way that made them glow. In one instance this sight was so disruptive that I was compelled to stop and take a photograph, failing of course to record the moment sufficiently on my phone screen. <img alt="Soft golden light filtering through trees. The scene is very green and alive looking." src="https://cdn.ashleysheekey.co.uk/media/pages/writing/on-being-open-and-affected/21305fa470-1685113119/unadjustednonraw-thumb-f6c-q80.jpg"> My being moved by this moment of beauty indicates to me that I was present in the environment, inquisitive of it and open to such responses. Yet —perhaps crucially — I wasn’t intentionally searching for them, not consciously judging what was and wasn’t worthy of being deemed as moving/affecting/beautiful. This definition of being affected is one I will sit with for a while, not forcing it. </p>
<h2>Thoughts/moments of significance:</h2>
<ul>
<li>Smooth space as a flow state, both as physical/geographic and a state of mind</li>
<li>Being open to being affected by the environment, but not actively searching for these moments</li>
<li>Even though this park is situated within a city, and home to a number of rules and expected modes of behaviour (no bikes in certain areas, directional signage, dictated paths/routes), I was able, for a time, to reach the desired flow state/smooth space</li>
<li>Being alone</li>
<li>Desire to walk forever, and this not seeming unreasonable</li>
<li>The idea of combining Deleuze and Guattari’s smooth space with Augé’s non–place for a kind of sweet spot </li>
<li>Numerous pathways. The element of choice would not be present if too few</li>
<li>Travelling forwards, not looking back. Acknowledging the periphery as it develops</li>
<li>Low, warm sun and cold air. Hands feel smooth and cold </li>
<li>Relatively fast pace of walking, unobstructed</li>
<li>Feeling of possibility — ideas enter the mind and they feel achievable no matter the size</li>
<li>Being anonymous to others. This was especially heightened in a foreign country. We pass each other with no effort to remember one another, likely we will never see each other again <span class="kt-end">●</span></li>
</ul>
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