reflection
I am mindful that not everyone can go for a “walk”. I approached “walking” as an able-bodied person, as that is my lived experience. I would like to think that “walking” as an idea, has a commonality, whether you physically walk, using 2 legs, or whether you wheel, are wheeled, or move around in some other way, but I’m not in a position to comment on that.
At one point, during lockdown, walking was about all we were allowed to do outside of the house. I tried cycling too, but walking became the most common. A lot of the walks took me to the supermarket, many to the park. They were always accompanied by at least one family member.
I used the walks to my own ends. To attempt to make some sort of art during and out of the walks.
I had intended to lead some art walks prior to lockdown. Well, I’ve probably got that out of my system. I’m not sure it’s for me. I think I’d rather walk alone. I don’t have much to say when I’m walking. I like to use the time to think. But everyone wants to talk, walk and talk, the walk sets off thoughts and the thoughts come out of other people. Mine stay inside. I enjoy walking for the internal dialogue. Reflecting on my thoughts. Working through my problems and ideas independently.
I bought a couple of books on walking. I haven’t finished either of them, even though one is really thin.
I thought about protest marches, and then I thought about marching. My time as a majorette, marching for miles and miles in carnivals. I thought about running and how it differs from walking but that’s another story. I thought about Eddie Izzard and all those marathons he did in South Africa. I thought about Nelson Mandela because of that.
I thought about nomads and travellers. And I thought about pilgrimage. I thought I should follow up on my thoughts, but I didn’t expect to focus so much on walking.
I thought I should have thought about time, in a linear way, but I didn’t.
I thought about artists.
And Christian Marclay’s walks referenced time.
Richard Long and his performative art practice. Lucy Gunning and the mirror event, Francis Alÿs and his block of ice, or his magnetic shoes, or the fiery football kicked down the street.
From my phone feed, Ligia Lewis “Walk, walk, walk until” for Hans Ulrich Obrist’s “Do It”.
From my son’s school, Raymond Bradbury’s, The Pedestrian, assigned for homelearning,
“What are you doing out?”
“Walking.”
“Walking!”
“Just walking.” He said simply but his face felt cold.
“Walking, just walking, walking? “
“Yes, sir.”,
“Walking where? For what?”
“Walking for air. Walking to see.”
These walks started to appear in my feeds. Either others were thinking about walking, or that algorithm was thinking of me.
All those walks. Don’t get me wrong. I like trampling, making my mark, I like intervening and documenting, I like journeys and I like Google maps. But I hope I can escape this topic, there has to be more than walking.
I thought about dog walking but not much, as I don’t have a dog. I tried to think of all the different kinds of walk. But mostly I sat. And I haven’t been out for a walk for several days, trying to write something. I’d like to go out for a walk now, but I’ve really run out of time.