Untitled blog post from "Land art project"

Day 3

The morning frost melts rapidly under a glorious, cloudless sky. My string line has left a paper-thin frost free stencil across the grass which I follow with the spade. Tonight I will set this up purposefully for the following morning. The day is spent measuring, aligning and digging. I have begun with the deepest trench, it is hard work but satisfying and I am glad of the exercise. I discover that after cutting down with a spade, strips of earth can be peeled out of the ground like great caterpillars.

A local shepherdess who I met briefly the other day leads her sheep into the neighbouring field and pauses to ask me what Im doing. I rack my brains for remnants of GCSE French and begin by telling her I’m an artist - as if that explains everything. I manage to muster up a few comments concerning ‘la terre rouge’ and coupled with some meaningful hand gestures she seems satisfied, if a little bemused. By the end of the day I have dug two and a half trenches and half filled one of them. If I knew I was going to be spending the 1st of December in a vest top I would have brought my bikini.

Importantly for me, this project is a new one. Whilst it naturally relates to ongoing themes in my work, for example organic processes, evidence of passing time and responses to minimalism, this is my first installation piece to be completed outside and to respond to the elements in such a way.

I am interested in the faith that is required of the viewer when seeing this work after it has just been completed: for the first few months, the red lines in the ground will all appear identical and it is only until they begin to change and degrade that it becomes apparent they are of varying dimensions. The dramatic difference between the structure of the lines happens underground and initially out of sight.

Rona Smith