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Helen Elizabeth Kuumbi |Artist| Cornwall
Walking with the stones
The Procession
Merrivale, Dartmoor, oil on canvas 61x84cm
This painting started on a visit to Merrivale stone rows; a ritual complex of stone monuments in the west of Dartmoor. I was there with a group of other artists . I sat away from the group to sketch and notices the interaction between people and the stones as they explored the site in their different ways.
After an extended time of drawing – when I had disconnected from seeing objects and was just sketching forms – I realised that there were moments when I inadvertently mistook people for stones, and the stones became figures.
I took this idea further as I developed my paintings from this visit. I saw personalities in the shapes and postures of the stones – explored their unique forms and interactions with each other.
Personifying the stones brought a stronger sense of connectedness, across the millennia, to their architects.
This painting started on a visit to Merrivale stone rows; a ritual complex of stone monuments in the west of Dartmoor. I was there with a group of other artists . I sat away from the group to sketch and notices the interaction between people and the stones as they explored the site in their different ways.
After an extended time of drawing – when I had disconnected from seeing objects and was just sketching forms – I realised that there were moments when I inadvertently mistook people for stones, and the stones became figures.
I took this idea further as I developed my paintings from this visit. I saw personalities in the shapes and postures of the stones – explored their unique forms and interactions with each other.
Personifying the stones brought a stronger sense of connectedness, across the millennia, to their architects.
Gatekeepers of the west
Merrivale, Dartmoor, oil on canvas 60x84cm
The terminal stones at one of the double stone rows at Merrivale look west across the Tamar to the high moorlands in Cornwall where the granite rises again. The stream of the setting sun connects the two landscapes where traces of ancient culture remain.
The granite stones stand resilient against time, bracing the end of day.
The surrounding landscape, is soft and ever-changing with the cyclic process of seasons.
As I was painting this picture I was drawn into the deep, stretch of time
that separates us from ancient cultures and the elements that have survived and changed within this landscape.
Within the context of the open moors, perhaps there is more that remains that would be familiar. But we perceive them through different lenses.
To what extent do we still read the landscape and skies? Notice the changes and movements?
I made the initial sketches for this painting last November, on a group residency with Mayes Creative. The ability to explore these sites with other artists and discuss different ideas and understandings fuelled my approach to this series.
The terminal stones at one of the double stone rows at Merrivale look west across the Tamar to the high moorlands in Cornwall where the granite rises again. The stream of the setting sun connects the two landscapes where traces of ancient culture remain.
The granite stones stand resilient against time, bracing the end of day.
The surrounding landscape, is soft and ever-changing with the cyclic process of seasons.
As I was painting this picture I was drawn into the deep, stretch of time
that separates us from ancient cultures and the elements that have survived and changed within this landscape.
Within the context of the open moors, perhaps there is more that remains that would be familiar. But we perceive them through different lenses.
To what extent do we still read the landscape and skies? Notice the changes and movements?
I made the initial sketches for this painting last November, on a group residency with Mayes Creative. The ability to explore these sites with other artists and discuss different ideas and understandings fuelled my approach to this series.
Watchers of the Grave
Merrivale, Dartmoor, oil on canvas, 41x41
The sky is an important and active elements of the work and the specific relationship between the sky and the stones is something beyond the immediate environmental interaction between sky/objects, i.e. how the light changes what we see.
There is interplay between the sky and the stones.
This painting depicts the central ring cairn, positioned along one of the double stone rows at Merrivale. The stones that form the ring cairn, stand like looming figures leaning in to watch over the kist burial – now open and exposed to the weather.
The mound has eroded away leaving the open grave exposed to the sky – but the stones still watch.
The sky is an important and active elements of the work and the specific relationship between the sky and the stones is something beyond the immediate environmental interaction between sky/objects, i.e. how the light changes what we see.
There is interplay between the sky and the stones.
This painting depicts the central ring cairn, positioned along one of the double stone rows at Merrivale. The stones that form the ring cairn, stand like looming figures leaning in to watch over the kist burial – now open and exposed to the weather.
The mound has eroded away leaving the open grave exposed to the sky – but the stones still watch.
Its not about being together again but no longer being apart
Scorhill, Dartmoor, oil on canvas, 51x76cm
One of the things that struck me when I visited Scorhill circle for the first time was the closeness of the remaining stones and the gaps between where others had been removed or fallen. Proximity and absence.
I could not help but be strangely moved by their loss and interaction. I saw a pair, huddled so close they touched, watching the night close in.
Is there a disjunction between an atheistic perspective on death as final, and the draw to explore these symbols of continuation, permanence and legacy.
How do we conceptualise death if there is nothing more, and couple this with the intense experiences of life with ones 'soulmate'.
It is the thing that most moves me; I do not believe that in death we will be reunited, but I suppose there will be peace that we are no longer apart.
One of the things that struck me when I visited Scorhill circle for the first time was the closeness of the remaining stones and the gaps between where others had been removed or fallen. Proximity and absence.
I could not help but be strangely moved by their loss and interaction. I saw a pair, huddled so close they touched, watching the night close in.
Is there a disjunction between an atheistic perspective on death as final, and the draw to explore these symbols of continuation, permanence and legacy.
How do we conceptualise death if there is nothing more, and couple this with the intense experiences of life with ones 'soulmate'.
It is the thing that most moves me; I do not believe that in death we will be reunited, but I suppose there will be peace that we are no longer apart.
Longstone
Shoveldown, Dartmoor, oil on canvas 40x40cm
The Longstone stands high above the moorland grasses at Shoveldown, directing your eyes towards Kes. It is between two of the double stone rows used as boundary marker between three parishes.
The Longstone stands high like figure, shoulders huddled to the wind and guiding the way.
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