Mycelial musing #2 - Escaping Categorisation

Springtime pottering and collage radios, intergrating all the parts

Spring really has sprung hard here in the UK, as I return to the nest just in time to dodge the power outage that wiped out most of Iberian Peninsula on Monday. As I try to land on a mycelial-themed ‘chapter’ for this seasons blog post, I realise that in my subconscious desire to segment things into neat boxes I’m defying one of the principle lessons of Let’s Become Fungal (the book that influences and underpins my thinking in this writing) and so, escaping categorization is where I find myself back to.

Spring is an interesting time. The composting of the previous winter has done its job. There is a change in the air. It’s not abrupt, but a certain heaviness has lifted. Friends enter the house and they notice something is different. The light is great! There’s less stuff! I’ve been slowly, over the last few years of sporadic visits, transforming my late father’s study into a makeshift studio, and in the reorganising of his materials, new creative connections make themselves known . Yes, I am also already gathering some roots from the garden.

Pushing for results right now just isn’t happening. Even with this writing, it just keeps looping back. Composting, the subject of my previous Substack, dredges up countless associations, memories, objects, papers, hi-fi’s (my father was a sound engineer and a hoarder, an interesting combination). It's not just a question of throwing it all in the garbage, and the responsibility of rehoming it ethically falls on me. As a custodian of the space he left behind, I feel a gentle prod toward recycling, gifting, and reworking his creative pursuits toward those who would appreciate them. Time well spent? For a deeper peace of mind, yes.

Last year I tried to give a drawer load of disposable airplane headphones to a project in the New Forest called Collage Radio. Unfortunately I was too late as they had already sourced their materials. I realised that the opening for the show was last night, and so went along. The gallery space of SPUDworks was empty, and in the centre was a table full of radios. We were invited to grab one, move around the space and tune into different recordings from local residents and musicians, artists and poets. It struck me as a beautifully simple way to demonstrate how we can choose to remain with our own narrative, or tune into other ways of relating with the world.

The light of the evening ekes out the day and creates new pockets of space. Pottering sometimes feels productive, although from a distance I must look like I’ve retired. (I’m just retiring from my previous 40 years, but there's work to do yet, I tell myself). Actually the focus becomes somewhat clearer when I step back. I realise that, along with a lot of friends of mine, this is a midpoint, and the years behind us are receding. Better not cling on to past hopes and dreams. The future seems vague and fuzzy. Is this a problem? Perhaps not. The present is where it’s at, after all, I say to myself as I enjoy the sun hitting the sea on Mudeford Bay at 8am. Expression breathes in, breathes out. To go out we have to go in. Cycles can vary in length. This one has been long. But some things keep returning in different forms.

Portrait credit: Vitorino Coragem, 2023

Using collage is a channel for self reflection, processing, composting, goal setting, visioning. I find myself creating new versions of myself. We are all in progress. I choose the image that resonates - a feeling that I want to embody more often. I’ll be facilitating a workshop on this later in the month. It's deceivingly simple and yet very powerful. (I’m a fan of Tara Swart, who backs this with neuroscience, which can ease me from the woo woo to the somewhat more logical. Redefining categories? always.)

It's not that I don’t agree with the categories, it's important to know what we are doing, for sure. I do have an issue with the definitions that become attached to us as we do it. The resistance towards being categorised is ever present, and I believe I am not the only one who has this. Describe what you do in one sentence… (wait, let me just open my google drive…) is sometimes a mouthful, although I am learning that context is everything. Last night, amongst artist-sound engineer-musicians who utilised collage thinking to unite a community they had to enter from the outside, I felt at home.

Where do I leave this? Just now, a good friend comes around and starts pruning the begonias in the garden. ‘At this time of year it’s a good idea to take away these dead bits so they don’t drain the new shoots of nutrients’. Of course, if wisdom is short, turn to the garden. (Perhaps the need to iron these dead parts will pass?) What lessons am I hoping to glean from them? I believe that the answer is in the process. And for now, the weather is ‘fair’.