Dialogue #1 28th August

Let’s start with Stones – fragments of geology – that mark the compression of time and place. As they enter a collection, are put in a pocket, or set on a shelf with other found stones, they speak of memories and of displacement, and of their own silence – of exile. -SB/JH

One stone one day, one name at a time. -JS

I always come back to the mountains. -LL

The idea of this physical material thing standing there, for years and years, creating dialogues, the idea of it is like the truth even if it never happened. -DH

There are currently 17 stones on my mind. -SM

There are currently 17 stones on my mind, 5 Sept. 2020


The first 16 are sucking stones belonging to Samuel Beckett's character Molloy, which circulate around Molloy’s four pockets (two in his greatcoat and two in his trousers) and mouth until eventually they are lost, thrown away, gifted or swallowed.



The 17th stone is The Lochmaben Stone, a megalith standing in a field, on the farm of Old Graitney in Dumfries and Galloway on the Scottish / English border, in Scotland. The area is also known as Stormont. Together with a smaller stone it is all that is left of a stone circle dating back to around 3000BC.

The principal stone or megalith has, in the Borders context, an unsurpassed extent of history attached to it. It is an erratic, 7 feet high and 18 feet in girth and weighs approximately ten tons. It is composed of weathered granite, exposed to severe glacial action.

It was frequently used as the meeting place between the Scots and English wardens for the administration of justice, and in comparatively recent times local gatherings took place at this stone.


There are currently 19 stones on my mind, 18 Sept. 2020


The 18th and 19th stones are small amber gypsum crystals collected from the edges of the Holy well in Cranfield, N. Ireland.  These two small crystals have been in my purse for the past 25 years – originally there were four but I ate two. 




I'm saying the above as I sit here trying to absorb the constant changes to what is taking place, with our beautiful government here in UK "acting on my behalf" making decisions, that I don't agree with. 


Is not creative practice a place to create new relationships between things, with new relationships that previously didn't exist, where you find a form for things to be in dialogue? 


Far from wanting to offer solutions, can we work through dialogue here between ourselves, and others, to form and offer a dialogue to point towards what we feel might ask the right questions for ourselves and in our respective fields, roles and lives and see, do, make, think, and ask?


The platform we have here is perhaps one of those moments, a unique moment to us, and offers opportunities and wider dialogues with others to find out?


I think within CCFT we have an opportunity to push what it is we can do, share and create?

whose - are we talking about?





belonging, occupation, marginality,





                              stone lines 


Each on his rock transfixed, the sport and prey

Or racking whirlwinds, or for ever sunk

Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains,

Unrespited, unpitied, unreprieved,

Ages of hopeless end? This would be worse.








 She speaks



“you’ve been here for miles

What did you see”?




The stone speaks


The sky has been falling

Ice on the tips of your fingers

as you tap the table

I’m hoping for a drink.


A line from here to there

Can’t you find a way? You’re so hard to follow.


So much time to cover so many things

I thought you’d say you are in this too.


Can’t you find a way?


I want everything


I’ve been talking about you to myself

A mind not to be changed by place or time

The mind is its own place, and in itself.


O’er many a frozen, many a fiery mount

Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of death – where all life dies, death lives, and nature breeds.

Without dimensions; where length, breadth, and height

And time, and place, are lost.


Steep, straight, rough, dense

With hands, head, wings, or feet, pursues their way

And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies

Of stunning sounds, and voices all confused

Borne through the hollow dark, assaults her ear

With loudest vehemence.


Which way the nearest coast of darkness lies

Bordering on light (which is my present journey)


I thought all this would work out after a while.


Sleeping for miles.




to be continued



There* Russell Glacier is a glacier in the Qeqqata municipality in central-western Greenland. It flows from the Greenland ice sheet in the western direction. The front of the glacier is located 25 km east of Kangerlussuaq.


Also, The Solovky Archepelago Russia, Eidsland, Norway, Sheffield,UK and Paradise lost, a book by Milton

Dialogue #2 4th September












Are these not just the residue of words used by and for ‘white’ identity politics? – post colonial – post religion


Does it feels too easy, to use them now and to assume we all know what we mean by using them?


Do we need other words - or really work at what they mean to us?


It just struck me looking at them that they seemed like very 'trendy' 'arty' 'buzz' words at the moment - the ethics of their meaning and real implications wrapped up in 'soft/lite' curatorial language.


My own view is to avoid any generic assumed understanding - that conflicts and have very specific meanings within each of their fields in social science and cultural studies. It feels like a danger we use appropriated ‘non-sense’ meanings - that we are all really trying to avoid. Is there a way to use them now in a much more specific way, or mess the meanings up to try and avoid the danger of falling into very particular white politics and the ethics of seeing, looking at and talking about others?


                     so CCFT что делать as Lenin famously said

                     "what to do"?

                     whats next with our dialogue and process,

                     we have the questions

                     what is our process and method in the dialogue?            

Seeing Ana’s image of Luds Church reminded both of us of an extraordinary place of pilgrimage that we visited in 2018.  For family reasons, we found ourselves in Auberterre-sur-Dronne, in the SW of France.  There we stumbled upon L’Église Souterraine Saint-Jean – a church carved out of a rock cliff over a period of a century by Benedictine monks.


Apparently, it is the largest subterranean church in Europe.  It’s an amazing piece of carving – or, rather, excavation – from living rock.  The highest point in the main chamber – the nave – is 20 metres, with a gallery extending above it from which we could view the whole space and look down onto a replica of the Holy Sepulchre carved, in situ, out of a single piece of rock.  The C12th landowner who occupied the castle built on top of the stone bluff from which the church was carved had evidently made the pilgrimage to Jerusalem himself; probably as part of the Crusades.  His way into the church was through the surface of the earth, into the upper tunnels that gave access to the galleries and steps down into the body of the church.


It’s other extraordinary feature were the 80 grave openings or sarcophagi carved into the floor of the church entrance at street level.  They had been the final resting place of many of the pilgrims who never quite made it as far as Santiago de Compostella.  L’Église Souterraine Saint-Jean is one of the stopping points along one of the pilgrim routes, and pilgrims entering the church would walk over the graves of the dead, enacting a metaphorical or metaphysical journey:  crossing from the world of the everyday into the liminal space between life and death.


  I died as a mineral and appeared as a plant,

  I died as a plant and reached the animal stage,

  I died from the animaldom and became a human being –

  Why, then, should I fear?  When did I become less by dying?

  Jalaluddin Rumi

54.983875 N 3.076073 W

Ukonkivi Island, Lake Inari, Arctic Finland – An outcrop of rock, sacred to the god of Thunder and a ritual site for Sami peoples.

The remains of a small stone jetty at Houbansetter, Shetland. Beside the family croft dating from the 1840’s - deserted since the 1960’s and now a ruin.  Stones set into the shallows of the Houbansetter Sound - a place to bring the boat and the catch ashore.
Houbansetter from the Old Norm, 'hopr setr’ - meaning:  'the summer hill pasture of the lagoon’.

where did it all go

rabbits down a hole

memories we used to carry like baskets of gold

I leave my mark on this stone

YH  The Kolumba Art Museum in Cologne, Germany/ encased+ embodied the St. Kolumba Church, 22 August 2020.

The ‘rock’ attains new meanings in our cities and our lives. While keeping its ‘solid’ characteristics could claim a PLACE in the Immaterial world. 


AS Lud’s Church: in the middle of nowhere, a meeting point for those looking for the sacred during the pilgrimage, the dialogue with the anonymous rambler, the discovery of nature.


SB/JH   Stone from the croft wall at Houbansetter, Shetland. Jim’s mother’s family’s croft from 1840’s - deserted since the 1960’s and now a ruin:  returning to the landscape from which the rock was extracted.

Set by the waters of the Houbansetter Sound - Houbansetter from the Old Norn, 'hopr setr’ - meaning:  'the summer hill pasture of the lagoon’