Nic Green on TURN

Last night it was another new moon, meaning two lunar months have passed since we completed TURN. It is no time at all, yet it seems longer. Since then the clocks have gone back, Trump is the president elect, we had a supermoon, the trees have turned and winter is here.

Reflecting on the experience of creating TURN, my overwhelming feeling is one of privilege and gratitude. This is due mainly to having been able to work with so many extraordinary people. All the ringer-singers, the birthday women, the volunteers, our team, everyone at Galgael, and the countless people in Govan and beyond who listened, helped, noticed. This combination made the project what it was. If I were to go back and do it again, would I do things differently? Some things, yes- there is inevitable learning to be taken from something of this scale, ambition and strangeness of idea.

Unusually, although the process lasted a year or more, and the performances took place over a month, it seems some kind of distant dream now. My entire life revolved around this project for at least 12 months, but it feels now a watery mirage of something impossible to grasp, hold on to, quantify or even describe.

I am really enjoying this quality.

The performance came and went with the moon, the tide, the weather, a birthday, a memory. Now it’s like a ripple, or an echo, fading slightly with each palimpsest. I wonder how I will remember it a year from now?

Maybe like looking at a reflection in water.

Spending so much time on the docks, thinking about the histories, the proposed futures, learning about the relationships that folk already have with the space, it felt right to impress something ‘other’ onto the space. At the time of doing this, I did not/do not know what the effects or impacts of such an impression might be, but I know that by creating experiences and associations with space, alters our psychogeography and the way we perceive place and ourselves as part of it.

Voice on granite

Metal on metal

Rain on plastic

Wind on water

Voice on song

I am resisting quantifying, summarising or writing with a sense of completion here. It just doesn’t feel right to refer to TURN as fixed or finished. Much of the art I make remains a mysterious beast, something difficult to quantify in other languages, so I won’t try here, in fact, I will actively avoid it, but perhaps the images and sounds of the work can do a better job of presenting the gentle traces, and watery echoes of this work.