As a part of the Vii collective we created a publication in January 2022. The consensus was that we would each find a poem and then create a collaborative work in response.

Diary Entry 4th January 2022

“I am in rainy Paris, it’s been a tumultuous few weeks and I am sitting at Cafe de Flore drinking a hot chocolate and I somehow still feel a little sorry for myself. I am in the same spot that Pablo Picasso, Truman Capote, Juliette Greco and Ernest Hemingway used to spend their days. Who knew you could feel numb in such a special place. Maybe by reading some of their wisdom I can be jolted out of this heavy feeling… I have just read some of Hemingways work, what a cool place to do it. I really admire his adventurous lifestyle and general frankness. “The best people possess a feeling for beauty, the courage to take the risks, the discipline to tell the truth, the capacity for sacrifice. Ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable: they are often wounded, sometimes destroyed.“ - Ernest Hemingway. As I sit here feeling wounded and really leaning into the small pleasure of this hot chocolate, i’m taking in each of his words, I want to feel into Hemingway’s spirit and what better place than here. In my numbness I feel brave enough to be confronted with the truth of the Hemingway’s poetry, so that’s what i’ll do, I better go now… and sit with it. And maybe order another hot choc.”

Hemingway’s words were hard to sit with, I felt it was a poignant moment to find them as I sat where he sat. I read the words over and over I could feel them going into me, this moment that could have been very romantic was very uncomfortable. My response, an urge to go home and change boots. I know that I lean into my RM Williams. They’ve been a part of my art practice from the beginning. When I feel lost, I put them on. For big shoots they’re my uniform, or for adventures into remote locations they’re the perfect boot. They’re a boot that can withstand a lot, as long as you look after them they’ll look after you. When I got back to my apartment I knew I needed to dig them out of my suitcase and put them on. I realised the strangeness of my work boots on the Parisian floor boards beneath my feet, I stood up strongly and set my camera on to a 10 second timer. A self portrait of my boots. Completely out of place, not so different to me.

I had hoped Hemingway’s wisdom would jolt me out of my sorrow, but in fact his words did the opposite. It flung me further into it, and perhaps that’s where I am meant to be. Through my response I wanted to turn up the volume on my own ways of coping. My contribution to this publication was a knee jerk response to Hemingway’s words, “ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable…“.