Guardian article, 3rd March 2011.

One day in March, staff at the Scottish Poetry Library came across a wonderful creation, left anonymously on a table in the library. Carved from paper, mounted on a book and with a tag addressed to @byleaveswelive – the library’s Twitter account – reading:

It started with your name @byleaveswelive and became a tree.… … We know that a library is so much more than a building full of books… a book is so much more than pages full of words.… This is for you in support of libraries, books, words, ideas….. a gesture (poetic maybe?)

For @natlibscot – A gift in support of libraries, books, words, ideas….. (& against their exit)

Guardian article, 30th June 2011.

For @filmhouse – A gift in support of libraries, books, words, ideas….. and all things *magic*

Amongst the audience is a figure with Ian Rankin’s face, clutching a Deuchar’s.

Scotsman article, 11th July 2011.

For @scotstorycenter – A gift in support of libraries, books, works, ideas….. Once upon a time there was a book and in the book was a nest and in the nest was an egg and in the egg was a dragon and in the dragon was a story…..

Having been on display in the Scottish Poetry Library for a few months, the poetree is now kept behind the counter for safety, but if you ask nicely I’m sure they would let you have a look.

The National Library’s gramophone is in a display case near the front door.

The Filmhouse’s cinematic diorama is currently not on display.

The Scottish Storytelling Centre’s dragon is probably going to estivate during the Festivals to avoid any possible manhandling by infant hordes but will surely make a return in the autumn.

UPDATE: The dragon has been moved out of harm’s way but is still visible to the public!

One, addressed to @edbookfest (the Book Festival), was left on one of the signing tables in the Bookshop.

To @edbookfest ‘A gift’ This is for you in support of libraries, books, words, ideas…… & festivals xx

It includes a teabag filled with cut out letters, on the tag of which are the words “by leaves we live”. The cup on the top has a swirl of words which read ” Nothing beats a nice cup of tea (or coffee) and a really good BOOK”, and on the ‘tray’ next to the cupcake it says “except maybe a cake as well”.

The other, addressed to @edincityoflit (UNESCO Edinburgh City of Literature), was secreted about their stand in the entrance tent.

To @edincityoflit ‘A gift’ LOST (albeit in a good book) This is for you in support of libraries, books, words, ideas…. “No infant has the power of deciding….. by what circumstances (they) shall be surrounded.. Robert Owen

Intriguingly, this is crafted from a copy of The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinnerby James Hogg.

Guardian article, 24th august 2011

Edinburgh International Book Festival blog post, 24th August 2011

Anna Not Karenina’s blog post

Once the latest additions to the family have found offical homes I will update with further images and information…

UPDATE 30/08/11

Another has appeared in the Central Lending Library on George IV Bridge.

For Central Library ‘A Gift’ @Edinburgh_CC This is for you in support of libraries, books, words, ideas…. LIBRARIES ARE EXPANSIVE

The word “expensive” has had the E crossed out and replaced with an A. No question of the creator’s views on library cuts… The tag then notes, “Words on book – Edwin Morgan”. No talk of Rankin this time!

In the news:

Scotsman article, 30 August 2011

Library blog post, 31 August 2011

A plastic cover has been placed on it and for the time being at least it is on display where it was left.

UPDATE 16/09/11:

The ‘poetree’ is now on display in the reception area of the Scottish Poetry Library.

The Edinburgh Evening News claims to have discovered the identity of the sculptor. The general view is that We Don’t Want To Know…

23/11/11

“Hopefully next time I’ll be able to linger longer – I’ve left a
little something for you near Women’s Anthologies X. In support of
Libraries, Books, Words and Ideas….”

A quick dash into the library led to the discovery of another gift.

“To @ByLeavesWeLive…….
THE GIFTS “Gloves of bee’s ful,
cap of the Wren’s Wings…….”
Norman McCaig
…. maybe sometimes impossible things…
In support of LIbraries, Books, Words
Ideas….”

And with the suspicious addition in the corner reading 10/10.

“It’s important that a story is not too long ……does not become tedious …….

‘You need to know when to end a story,’ she thought.

Often a good story ends where it begins. This would mean a return to the
Poetry Library. The very place where she had left the first of the ten.

Back to those who had loved that little tree, and so encouraged her to try
again …….and again.

Some had wondered who it was, leaving these small strange objects. Some
even thought it was a ‘he’! ……. As if!

Others looked among Book Artists, rather good ones actually…….

But they would never find her there. For though she does make things, this
was the first time she had dissected books and had used them simply be-
cause they seemed fitting….

Most however chose not to know….. which was the point really.

The gift, the place to sit, to look, to wonder, to dream….. of the impossible
maybe…….

A tiny gesture in support of the special places…..

So, here, she will end this story, in a special place … A Poetry Library …..
where they are well used to ‘anon.’

 

But before exiting …a few mentions. There could be more, because we
have all colluded to make this work……. Just a few though.

- the twitter community who in some strange way gave rise to the idea in
the first place

-@chrisdonia who gave the story a place, a shape and some great pictures

- and not least @Beathhigh whose books and reputation have been shame-
lessly utilised in the making of a mystery ……..

…… But hold on. Someone’s left behind a pair of gloves and a cap……….?

Cheers Edinburgh It’s been fun!X

A wonderful end to a wonderful story and a lovely mention for a humble photographer! But talk of ten sculptures had everyone a-flutter. There were only eight we knew of, what of the remaining two? Could they have been lost? stolen? or worse, thrown away by someone who didn’t realise what they had found?

Mercifully the answer was forthcoming the next day. The National Museum of Scotland had received a gift, found on the plinth under a skeletal stag. A consciencious member of staff had found it and passed it to his supervisor, thinking it might be something more than average lost property. It soon made its way up the chain of command until it came to rest in the Director’s office for safety.

Meanwhile the museum staff were abuzz with the imminent arrival of their millionth visitor since reopening (which was a surprise as that wasn’t really expected until about August 2012) so they didn’t have time to tell the world about it until that had died down.

And so another is unveiled!

“For @NtlMuseumsScot A Gift
Your friends at @edbookfest
suggested you might like this.
…. In support of libraries,
books, words, ideas and those
places that house our treasures……”

And in the corner, 9/10.

Hidden amidst the tattered leaves of the book are tiny men with weapons that probably wouldn’t do much damage to the beast, as its bloodstained jaw seems to prove.

The museum hope to exhibit this as part of the 26 Treasures series.

And what of the last?

Yesterday afternoon staff at the Writer’s Museum found something atop the donations box in the Robert Louis Stevenson room.

“@CuratorEMG A Gift
“The stories are in the
stones” Ian Rankin
In support of Libraries, Books,
Words, Ideas …… and
Writers.”

And the 8/10 in the corner, confirming that we’ve found them all!

So this seems to be the end of the story. There is talk of organising some sort of exhibition but so far it’s just an idea. Some of the ‘gifts’ are viewable anyway – those in the Scottish Poetry Library, the Scottish Storytelling Centre and Central Library (the gramophone in the National Library seems to have been temporarily displaced). The rest will hopefully find a place in the public eye and I’ll keep an eye on them as I have grown rather attached.

Many thanks to whoever has been crafting and distributing these magical objects, and thanks on behalf of the creator to those who have followed their discovery with such infectious delight.

Saturday 17th December

A mysterious new Twitter account called “a book for xmas” has appeared and is tweeting @ various recipients of sculptures and others involved.

The tweets read “In support of libraries, books, words, ideas and wishing you a magical xmas” and link to a video on Vimeo:

One of the best things about the paper sculptures is that everyone who sees them, even online, gets excited and wants to share the joy.

And so last week the BBC were in town for a day, visiting the Scottish Storytelling Centre, National Museum of Scotland and Writers’ Museum to make a short piece on them. Since they didn’t have time to get around every venue the rest are represented by some of the pictures seen here.

You can see it here.

This quickly took up residence in their Most Popular section, in the top 5 for ‘Shared’ and ‘Video/Audio’. Because everyone loves them!

Small note though, I’m not sure who the journalist featured has been talking to but since we’re fairly certain the anonymous artist is a woman I suspect they’ve got it wrong…

We were all so excited about the final sculptures that the bonus one rather slipped by…

On 25 November 2011 Ian Rankin got in touch with the Edinburgh Bookshop and said that he was expecting a parcel to be delivered and asked if they could let him know when it arrived.

When the parcel arrived the writing on it seemed familiar. A quick text later and Ian arrived to open it. Sure enough, there was another fabulous papery delight, marked 11/10!

The tag reads:

For @Beathhigh A Gift
“…. something in us never dies” (R. Burns 1790)
In support of those who turn ideas
into words, words into books ……
& of course books into libraries.”

//////

Take a look at more suggested blogs by artists here.

Glencoe II by adelinesuvdal

Playground 1.0 by rosscolquhoun

Winter Sleep by sarah_amy_fishlock

a snowy day at home by lcmackay1

Meall a’ Bhuiridh #LV, Glencoe Project © Copyright Jennifer Wilcox 2010 by Jennifer_Wilcox

Talbot Rice Gallery, Until September 25th.

‘There is a sweetness about these paintings that can immediately make you think that they are just sentimental, historicised images of children from the 1950s- with their buckled shoes and their party dresses- but you need to look again.’ Pat Fisher, Exhibition curator.

Staying Together, 2010

Seventeen children gaze out from a large bank of pencil drawings- some stare absently into the distance, others squint oddly, whilst some confidently look the viewer straight in the eye. They resemble normal portraits of happy children, posing for their annual school mugshot- but something here is not quite right. Julie Roberts’ works have a disconcerting quality- an awkward dual impression of contemporaneity and out-of-time-ness that creates a sense of the uncanny that is not instantly possible to equate or resolve.

There are no adults here. One young girl prays alone at the edge of her bed, another carries a bouquet of flowers as an unexplained offering, three adolescent boys tuck-in to an anonymously prepared meal- all sharing a contented commitment to their respective mundane pursuits. There are none of the traditional vibrant primary colours of childhood here- instead the work is realised in a stern, muddy palette that Catriona Black describes as being ‘evocative of urine, vomit, and nicotine stained minor’s clubs.’  However, in spite of (or perhaps as a result of) the austerity of their surroundings, there is no sense of despair or longing- each child exhibits a level of mature self-sufficiency that is at once as admirable as it is disquieting.

Will Bradley notes that Roberts ‘builds up meaning in a network or relationships between paintings that extends across her whole body of work, apparently innocent images taking on new overtones as they echo more sinister set-ups’. A consideration of the artists’ early life and previous works is vital in fully appreciating the paintings in Child. Having spent periods of her own childhood in care- Roberts brings an autobiographical implication to the work and, tracing back her previous artistic exploration of institutional structures of power, renderings of medical equipment and apparatus, as well as her depictions of various corpses and cadavers- the works adopt a richer, foreboding aura that resonates around the yawning main gallery space.

There was an initial proposal to adopt Feral Child as title for the whole exhibition- an idea that was rejected for being too emotive and limiting, in favour of the more arresting and ambiguous nature of the shortened Child. Whilst ‘feral’ evokes immediate wild and animalistic connotation, it also defines an organism that leaves or escapes from domesticity to return to a more natural, intrinsic condition. For Roberts’ children, who have been displaced from their familial environment, be it through evacuation, being orphaned and/or taken into care- the description rings with a poignant aptness. (It is interesting also to note that the word feral has a second, unrelated meaning from the Latin ‘feralis’ meaning ‘belonging to the dead’).

Advocation of childhood independence was among the main principles taught by Italian doctor Maria Montessori in her pioneering child education work in the early 19^th century. She promoted a hands-off approach to teaching, allowing for the child’s inherent natural directives to guide their development. Roberts overtly introduces the method in Refugees at the Montessori School, depicting children within an environment designed for this development to flourish; tables and chairs are of a proportionate size and pictures and tools are hung at an appropriate level, allowing the children to function and learn without adult interference. In this instance however, they have been disturbed- all activity is paused, replaced with a collective outward gaze towards the intruding spectator. Their stares filled with puzzlement and annoyance at the unwelcome interruption.

Roberts works from photographs, both found and from her personal family archive, a fact that accounts for the uneasy composition of some of the work here. In Human Material a young boy sits in a stark bathtub- he has no toys, no bubbles, no potential for fun. Curator Pat Fisher invites the viewer to ‘consider the position of things like the soap. Now that is obviously not within the child’s reach’. Reasoning that ‘it could only be me who could reach that soap and wash him.’ Since the original photographs where presumably taken by an adult, this is the perspective offered to the viewer- they are unwittingly implicated as the absent grown-up in the scenario, cast frustratingly in an unfulfillable position of responsibility.

Anne and Margot Frank, 2010

A strong notion of kinship is fostered in Child. The work Staying Together depicts a brother and sister hand-in-hand, strong in the face of their shared isolation and many of the ‘feral children’ exist in bonded pairs- siblings in matching jumpers. Exemplification comes in the painted portrayal of Anne and Margot Frank. Anne (who herself attended a Montessori school) is generally recalled as a lone-figure, but here she is found alongside her elder sister Margot- bound together by a striking facial likeness, matching tunics and grins. The girls, iconic figures of childhood resilience in the face of extreme adversity, remained together through their years of hiding and incarceration before they both finally succumbed to illness within days of one another. Knowledge of the tragic future awaiting Anne and Margot haunts not only their own carefree faces, but extends to the other children in the room, prompting bleak contemplation of what similar fate may lie ahead of them. 

Upstairs in a cabinet of curiosities are old photographs, swatches of aged patterned fabrics and artists’ sketchbooks- as a ‘good housewife’ from the 1950s beams beside her sink in vivid retrocolour, Roberts’ pencil rendering of her stands alongside like an eerie, pallid twin. This offered glimpse into Roberts creative process goes some way to aide the understanding of the uncanny tension found in the final works. This collated material, themselves already depictions of the real, are then subjected to further transition by Roberts through her re-drawing and interpreting them into her stylized paintings. Each stage of the process, from research and collection to the development and realization of the finished works, are directly mediated by the artist, thus being subtly yet indelibly impregnated with traces of her hand and private experience. The results are images that whilst holding a familiar sense of the real, remain inexplicably off-kilter. 

Other works on the upper floor reflect Roberts’ exploration of traditional gender roles- namely within the family institution; daughters act as domestic apprentices to their watchful mothers, folding sheets on wash day and peeling vegetables- at the far end an infant girl tenderly cradles her doll, preparing to train the next generation and perpetuate the established domestic cycle.

The final child to meet is Edna (British Evacuee). Orphaned in the galleries round-room, she is surrounded by an unwieldy floral wall-painting that feels somewhat incongruous to the archaic and autonomous worlds captured elsewhere. Regardless, Edna boasts a now familiar, stoically confident complexion- hat donned and duffle coat fastened to the neck- fully prepared for whatever she is set to face.

Edna (British Evacuee), 2010