Sunday, 8 March 2026

Sam Keogh: From collage to performance

Sam Keogh, The Unicorn Surrenders to a Maiden Cartoon, mixed media installation with performance, 2024. Photo credit: Kerlin Gallery

Sam Keogh has work on exhibition at the moment at the Warburg Institute. His collages are attached to the walls and at times he will visit the gallery and animate his work. I have posted in the past on collage as well as animated collages, as extensions of contemporary drawing practice, but looking at Sam Keogh's work gives me an opportunity to look at how collage can quite naturally be extended into performance.

The great thing about collage is that it brings with it the various histories and associations connected to the context out of which the pieces of collage emerge. This approach can also lead to a way of thinking about research. In Keogh's case the research is itself a form of collage, whilst his work uses the cut up and put together forms of collage, but he usually makes the elements himself in response to the research. This sounds complicated I know, so it is probably easier to describe what he actually does in detail.

The Hunt of the Unicorn

The Unicorn in Captivity

The installation in the Warburg institute is a re-staging of some of Keogh's collages that were responses to 'The Hunt of the Unicorn', a series of seven tapestries normally housed in The Met Cloisters, a New York museum whereby medieval architecture is incorporated into a modern building, purpose-built to evoke the Middle Ages. Made in Flanders at the turn of the 16th century, these tapestries have a very complex iconography and provenance. Taken from their aristocratic owners during the French Revolution, they were at one point used to protect fruit trees and potatoes from frost as well as being used as blankets to keep horses warm in the winter. Rediscovered in a barn in the 1850s, they were returned to the La Rochefoucauld family, who then sold them in the 1920s to JD Rockefeller Jr, who subsequently sold them to the Metropolitan Museum in New York. Keogh is obviously fascinated by this history as it challenges our notion of quality and the meaning of art. Something that can at one time be a horse blanket in a stable, can at another time be a million dollar artwork, hung in a major museum. This is perhaps echoed by the artist’s use of blue painters’ tape as a material to both attach his collage to the wall and join together its components. His imagery includes figures from The Lord of the Rings, ‘The Secret Identity Stamp of the Peasants’ from an old edition of Friedrich Engels’s The Peasant War in Germany, Anduril’s Sentry cameras (which operate along the South-East coast of England, an elusive and secretive physical AI border consisting of 5.5 meter tall towers which are fitted with radar as well as thermal and electro-optical imaging sensors which continuously scan the sea for people seeking safety in the UK), as well as other images taken from the Warburg institute's photographic archives. He redraws from his researched sources, using coloured pencils, graphite, watercolour and acrylic, which means that as he cuts and organises the collage, there is a certain 'handiwork' to the surface that gives coherence to its visual appearance.
On March the 11th there will be a performance when Keogh will "activate his collaged drawing in the exhibition with a live performance which brings two of its characters into dialogue as they search to find the origin of ‘The Secret Identity Stamp of the Peasants’." (Taken verbatim from the Warburg Institute advertising copy) In effect the 'script' for his performance, emerges out of the research for the imagery; the "stamp" represents a form of secret identification or clandestine communication used by peasants during the 16th-century German Peasants' War and I suspect that Keogh found in the Engels text, a foreshadowing of what was to become the French Revolution. Peasants, at the time of the French Revolution, comprised 80% of the population, and their involvement was critical to its success. While the revolution was led by the bourgeoisie, it was really the involvement of the peasants that forced the abolition of feudalism, allowed them to acquire the land they had worked on for hundreds of years. The killing of the unicorn is a complex symbolic fantasy narrative, Keogh's decision to remind us of the redistribution of land back to the people after the French Revolution, perhaps representing an even more fantastic fantasy, one where the aristocratic ownership of land in the UK is finally ended and returned to common land.

The Unicorn is Killed and brought to the Castle,

The Unicorn is Killed and brought to the Castle, 2023: colouring pencil, graphite, watercolour, acrylic, painters tape and gold leaf on 70gsm acid free layout paper, mic stands + recording of performance: Installation at The Paper Biennial 2024, Museum Rijswijk, The Netherlands

When you look at his installation for 'The Unicorn is Killed and brought to the Castle', you can see that his installations can also act as stage sets. I was reminded of those cardboard and paper cut out play stage sets for children, that used to be popular during the first half of the last century.

Children's play stage set

These model theatres were often used to stage Shakespeare's history plays, and I sense that Keogh would be happy for his audience to see themselves as if confronting a scene from one of them.

Elden Knotweed NPC, 2022
colouring pencil, graphite, watercolour, acrylic and gold leaf on 70gsm acid free layout paper

Orcish Palisade NPC, 2022

The Unicorn Surrenders to a Maiden

The Unicorn Surrenders to a Maiden: Cartoon: 2024: acrylic, watercolour, coloured pencil, gold leaf and painter’s tape on 70gsm acid-free layout paper

Keogh's response to the The Hunt of the Unicorn is to fill in some of the gaps in our knowledge, not by giving us some sort of historical reminder of what has happened over time to the tapestry, but by creating what his gallery terms, "an indeterminate space in which materials, memories and affects begin to smudge into each other." I.e. he tries to make an analogy, whereby he reminds us how the messiness of history is often cleaned up by historians and artists, who themselves, whether they like it or not, are always caught up in the messiness of life.

I also think that Keogh wants to highlight the fact that writers such as Tolkien and their obsession with recreating history via fantasy, have given us all a certain narrative against which our histories are both compared and inlaid into. In images such as Orcish Palisade NPC, Keogh reminds us that all is in fact narrative and that it is mainly through story that we understand both ourselves and our world. Keogh's story overlaps with my own, I read Lord of the Rings when I was eleven years old. I was entranced by it and even now over 60 years later, that experience still lives with me and shapes my own narrative and how I envisage the stories of war that I hear and see in contemporary news footage. I now understand that Tolkien when writing his grand narrative, had in mind what was then the recent Second World War conflict. The book being a powerful anti-totalitarian narrative, the ultimate defeat of evil, not coming from superior military might or tyrannical power, but through the courage, resilience and voluntary sacrifice of "ordinary people".

These stories are I feel not that dissimilar to those we invent in relation to our bodies, something that makes me thoughtful as to how I might continue to develop work done in response to making my own versions of anatomical flap books.

Sunday, 1 March 2026

Drawing Experience

'Spinal Pain 2', digital drawing.

I have had an image selected for the online 'Drawing Experience' exhibition, hosted by Loughborough University. Work submitted had to respond to the research question, 'how can lived experience be translated into drawing?'. The image selected is from my work in the spinal injuries unit and the fact it was selected means that the work communicates to others beyond the confines of the medical environment.

This is the 'Drawing Experience' curatorial statement:

The theme Drawing Experience had its inception in the impromptu discussions about drawing that took place between Deborah Harty (Loughborough University, UK), Isabel Herrera-Gonzalez (University of Seville, Spain) and Fan Ye (Hubei Institute of Fine Arts, China), who were both Visiting Scholars at Loughborough University in 2025. Having not previously met, whilst discussing our own drawing practices and interests, sometimes through the aid of translator app, at other times through bodily gestures and emphasised expressions, we came to realise that we all had an interest in the potential of drawing to trace lived experience. The crossovers in our practices and approaches, alongside an interest in the potential of drawing to be able to bridge language barriers and highlight cultural differences, led us to begin the curatorial collaboration. We conceived the research question, how can lived experience be translated into drawing, to be investigated through the format of an open call for drawings for an online exhibition. This format enabled us to extend the discussion to others from across the globe, whose work sits within a context of drawing in the expanded field. From the call, we received a high volume of drawings in a variety of formats and media, including works on paper, moving image and performance drawings.

To evaluate the submissions, the main criterion was to what extent the work responded to the question posed in the call. For this, the curators considered the information provided in the short textual statements and the drawings themselves. These provided lively debate, as we negotiated the line between interesting drawings, personal responses and drawings we all agreed were convincing as traces of lived experience. The curators considered drawings that evidenced innovative approaches, which challenged the notional limits of drawing to consider lived experience. We particularly valued those proposals which looked for indirect ways to answer the question. Whilst acknowledging the aesthetic quality and the technical virtuosity, we prioritised the coherence between form/material and discourse. We leaned into works where the trace of lived experience felt tangible, whether through subtle textural choices, personal symbolism, or the emotional resonance of the imagery. We also selected works that felt authentic in translating intangible experiences into visual form, as this alignment between intent and execution made the theme feel alive.

In the works selected for inclusion in the exhibition, the artists pose fascinating reflections on what it means for them to translate experiences and sensations of the body into a graphic code. An interesting consequence of viewing the group as a whole, was seeing and comparing the multiplicity of different answers to the same question; all whilst using the economical means of drawing. Some resort to visual syntax to express (or, better said, 'narrate') the tacit part of their experience, as in the colours of Mahsa Makki Alamdari or Deepani Seth. Some use intense, precise forms to convey profound experiences, as in the evocative drawings of Helen Goninon or Lauren Arnott. Whilst others, such as Ellen Bell and Janice Nadeau, use sparse lines to evoke the quiet repetition of daily life. These powerfully evidence lived experience traced into drawing. The drawings do not shout, but rather linger, just like many of our most intimate memories. Others use a more figurative language to give concrete form to sensations and impressions that are abstract and difficult to verbalise (sometimes barely remembered), as perhaps in the case of Garry Barker, Camille Courier, Rachel Gadsden-Hayton & Jeremy Hawkes, or Lisanne Sloots. Some transform drawing itself into a medium or space for encounter with others, capturing dialogue and exchange in line, such as in the drawings of Mary Yacoob or Joanna Leah and Orla Bates. While others focus on the immediacy and honesty of drawing as to directly convey embodied knowledge in real time, like Ipek Yeginsu or Caroline Wright. As a whole, these works seek to confront traditional conceptions of drawing, with artists like Rachel Colley (through material experimentation), Sarah Tutt (through performative encounter), or Helen Farrell, Ella Emanuelle (through technology), expanding its limits beyond what is expected and predictable. The works in the exhibition emphasise the breadth of contemporary drawing practices evidencing the ability of drawing to be a living trace of experience.

One of the most rewarding aspects of curating this exhibition was reflecting on how cultural contexts not only shape each artist’s way of approaching the theme, their inclusion in the exhibition, enables a sharing of diverse experiences to a wide audience. Whilst the central question remained the same, how can lived experience be translated into drawing, the responses were filtered through diverse traditions, personal histories, sensibilities and materials. These different cultural frameworks influenced the metaphors used in the drawings, some artists drawing on collective cultural symbols, while others focused on hyper-personal, yet universally relatable, moments. This reinforced the idea of drawing as a universal yet deeply individual language, one capable of bridging cultural differences while highlighting unique perspectives. This mix showed that while lived experience is personal, drawing acts as a common thread, allowing us to understand perspectives that might otherwise feel distant, simply through the language of line and form. Perhaps the best proof lays in the fact the curators all come from different cultural backgrounds and use different spoken and written languages, but we have still been able to read and understand the meanings behind each drawing.

Curating these submissions has been both humbling and inspiring, as it has reminded us of the power of drawing to make the invisible tangible, and to connect us through what cannot easily be put into words. The selection of works has highlighted how drawing can be a silent conversation between artist and viewer. During the process of selection, we were not just curating works, we were witnessing artists sharing personal experiences that words might fail to capture. The contrast between the ephemerality of experience and the potential permanence of drawing felt particularly poignant. It is a reminder that this exhibition is not just about art, not just about evidencing how lived experience be translated into drawing, it is about preserving and connecting human stories.

Taken directly from the Drawing Experience online exhibition

This exhibition is hosted by the Drawing Research Network, an organisation that I have always found extremely useful when trying to think through my role as both an academic and artist. The important thing about networks is that you can see how your peers are thinking and find out what is happening in terms of contemporary practice. I was particularly pleased to find that they had accepted a digital image, as my point in making it, like others that have been generated as part of this project, was that it would be seen mainly online, either on a computer screen or on a mobile. The first audience for these images being patients and medical staff who need to see them in a clean hospital environment. I am very aware when drawing competitions are announced, that at times digital imagery is regarded as less authentic than drawings made using traditional art materials, but if I am to be fully inclusive in my awareness of audiences and the appropriateness of communication media, I feel that working both analogically and digitally, is the best way forward for myself. The question, 'how can lived experience be translated into drawing?', being one that at times we all need to ask ourselves, if drawing is to remain central to our practice as artists.

Reference:

Drawing Experience

Monday, 23 February 2026

Maggi Hambling and Touch

Back in September 2016 Lund Humphries published the first book to focus on the drawings and prints of Maggi Hambling and it was called 'Touch'. The book was designed to accompany an exhibition of Hambling's works on paper at the British Museum and had a text written by Jennifer Ramkalawon.

Dancing bear

Elephant without tusk

Laughing

The book's text opened with three quotes by Rodin, Derrida and John Berger, all of which are thoughtful reflections on the relationship between touch and sight.

What is this drawing? Not once in describing the shape of that mass did I shift my eyes from the model. Why? Because I wanted to be sure that nothing evaded my grasp of it … my objective is to test to what extent my hands already feel what my eyes see.

AUGUSTE RODIN

A draftsman cannot but be attentive to the finger and the eye, especially to anything that touches upon the eye, to anything that lays a finger on it in order to let it finally see or let it be seen [donner à voir].

JACQUES DERRIDA

Her fingers touching the paper with a stick of charcoal or graphite pencil or rubber. Yet is that all they are doing? Are they not touching the face too, the face, the nose, the hair, the eyes – so that they shut a little, the corners of the mouth? What is the relation between tracing and stroking, between an erasure and a caress?

JOHN BERGER

Maggi Hambling was quoted as having this to say about drawing; ‘Drawing is an artist’s most direct and intimate response to the world. The touch of charcoal, graphite or ink on paper is full of endless possibilities. I try to distil the essence of a subject and capture the life-force of a moment.'

I first became interested in Maggi Hambling when she came to public notice because of her portraits of Max Wall. She was interviewed several times on TV and I thought she was an artist well worth following, as she seemed to take seriously the business of finding mass in space. She was searching for something and in asking Max Wall to be a subject I could see her looking for the drama of a life. Wall was both a comedian and a dramatic actor, especially when taking on Samuel Beckett. I had seen Wall's TV version of 'Waiting for Godot' and he used an awareness of his own physicality, to give the role a tragicomic depth. I presumed this was what Hambling had seen in him, a face and a body that were very physical, that had spent a lifetime on stage and that projected a unique theatrical presence. I felt that Hambling was presenting to us the theatre of the body, even if the only member of the audience was her own cat, Onde.

Max with Onde: 1981

She is particularly good when faced with mortality. Her drawings of her father below, reveal a delicate search for that life spark that we all have, even when it is dimmed with age.

Father

Hambling's drawing of her mother when dead, is another attempt to find what lies beneath the surface of appearance. As Hambling herself put it, "The challenge is to touch the subject with all the desire of a lover" 2016.

My mother dead: 1988

Hambling has a rather theatrical personality, or at least it appears that way from the various interviews I have seen with her. Her cigarette often being used like a marl stick, a support that operates as a conversational prop. I read this as a type of nervousness, being very aware of my own anxiety as soon as anyone asks me to talk about my work. Most artists are visual thinkers which is why they stumble when it comes to translating what they do into words. (Except for David Hockney, who is always beautifully articulate.)

She also looks a lot at the sea; she lives close to the coast and often draws and paints waves and spray and the hard to see shifts in form and energy that constantly come into and out of vision, as that huge body of water does the things it does.

Hambling says this:

‘Most people know the life and death feeling when they look at the sea, it is so huge. Water is a metaphor for life. A wave approaches, then becomes solid before it dissolves, that’s pretty sexy. Someone once asked me why I keep painting waves and I replied I go on painting them because they are orgasms!'.

She recognises that we are all energy, that is all there is. The traces of charcoal or paint seismically record the energy of looking, as well as the energy of making and the energy of being. Perhaps because she is a popular artist, she is sometimes underrated, but I hold a special place for her in my heart and love her unremitting confrontation with that élan vital which she finds both in people and in the sea's waves. She has made a body of work that has communicated to me at least, her great joy in visualising life's experience and you cant ask much more of an artist.

Monday, 16 February 2026

The Vertical

I put up a post on horizontality a while ago and as I'm seeking some sort of balance in my reflections, think it's about time to explore the vertical.

From: Felix Moscheles’s 1896 book, 'In Bohemia with Du Maurier'

When you begin a course in objective drawing, one of the first things you will be asked to do will be to practice measurement and one of the main elements of that will be to establish a vertical against which you can check both angles and relative sizes. Basically in order to establish measurement you need to compare a known element to an unknown one. One of the most common “known” elements is one that exists due to gravity.

A drawer establishes a vertical by using a plumb line

A plumb line is one of the oldest measuring devices, one that has been used to establish verticality from time immemorial. It is also used to check relationships.

Checking the relationships between the corner of a sculpture's base and the carved head

As you can see from the image above, by using a plumb line we can easily check what lies directly above the vertical line established by the corner of the sculpture's base. We can also begin to assess by eye angles that relate to our vertical, such as the angle of the chin, of an eye or a cheek bone. By assessing a measure of length in relation to the plumb line, usually the artist's thumb slid up and down a pencil, you can also begin to establish size constancy.

Using your thumb and end of a pencil to find a unit of length.

In the image above you can see how the plumb line establishes a vertical and how in relation to that you can find a unit of measurement; often in the case of life drawing using the head as a unit. This is of course 'sight size', so if you want your drawing to be bigger, you multiply the measured unit by the percentage larger you need it to be, leading to what is usually called proportional or scaled drawing.

From: Charles Blanc’s 1867 book, Grammaire des arts du dessin.

Charles Blanc in his 'Grammaire des arts du dessin' uses an illustration that depicts a human being standing on top of a semicircle that represents the sphere of the world. A vertical line runs through both the standing human and the world and this in turn represents a plumb line, which visualises how everything standing on the Earth relates to its centre of gravity. By using this line Blanc shows how the human figure and any other form, can be drawn as if firmly standing on the ground. Any deviation from this vertical creates some form of movement or emotional exchange beyond the establishment of uprightness.

From: Grammaire des arts du dessin.

We have already looked at Humbert de Superville's work, a man who had his own three line scheme for expression; 'expansive, horizontal, and convergent', a scheme that he believed affected fundamental emotions. This 'off the vertical' scheme, was taken up by Charles Blanc and used to explain why it was so important to establish verticality as a measure against which all other angles could be compared. Therefore quite early on we have a relation between the vertical as a support for measurement, but also as a comparator in terms of emotional register. The vertical in the visual arts representing an upright character, one associated with resilience, growth, inner strength and quiet confidence. Vertical lines conveying a sense of nobility, spirituality and stability. They can also communicate a feeling of loftiness and spirituality, as vertical lines may suggest a relationship with the sky and other untouchable cosmic entities, such as the sun, moon and stars. Extended perpendicular lines suggesting an idea that goes beyond human measure.

If however you want to specify the establishment of a vertical line without any emotional or spiritual implications, you can do this by referring to it as a Unicode Character. U+FF5C represents the Fullwidth Vertical Line.

Unicode Character “｜” (U+FF5C) The Fullwidth Vertical Line

Unicode stands for ‘Universal Character Encoding’ and is a global standard for representing text characters in binary form. It enables consistent storage, exchange and processing of text across different digital systems and platforms. Unicode was created with the aim of serving as a unified standard for representing all writing systems and characters developed by humans.

But if we look at heraldry the primary name for a single, wide, vertical stripe located in the centre of a shield is a pale. A palet or pallet, being a thinner version of the pale. The pale may occupy one third of the width of the shield. It has two diminutives, the palet, which is half as wide as a pale and the endorse which is by some said to be one eighth of its breadth, by others one fourth. However, being upright and red, it also signifies courage.

A Pale

If considering the cross of the crucifixion, the 'stipe' is the vertical beam or upright post driven into the ground. A vertical view of the crucifixion refers to both the physical, upright orientation of the cross (crux immissa or crux commissa) on which Jesus was executed, as well as the theological, vertical relationship it represents between God and humanity. This theological, vertical relationship represents the direct, personal connection between God and humanity. Often symbolised by the vertical beam of the cross, it represents the reconciliation of sinners to God through Jesus Christ, facilitating a "God-ward" orientation of worship, prayer, and obedience.

Michelangelo: Crucifixion

In Michelangelo's drawing the outstretched arms of Christ metaphorically fly him into that other world that sits above the humans that support him; humans, who Christ will in turn support as he makes his way to God's side. The vertical of the cross extends out of the ground at the base of the drawing and into infinity at the top. As it is cut off, the implication is that it continues out into the cosmos, invisibly extending far beyond the physical edge of the paper it is drawn upon.

The vertical of the cross is perhaps one of the most spiritual metaphors associated with verticality, but it is not the only one. The vertical, invisible line that extends through the body as an energy channel in Eastern spiritual traditions is most commonly known as the Sushumna Nadi in Hinduism and Yogic philosophy. In Chinese Taoist alchemy and Qigong, this central axis is often referred to as the Central Meridian (Zhong Mai) or the Taiji Pole.

The Sushumna Nadi

In Hinduism the 'Nadi' are astral channels, made up of astral matter that carry Pranic currents and the Sushumna Nadi is the most important one. It is a three in one symbol; the sustainer of the universe, the path of the universe and the path of salvation. It joins the back of the anus, via the spinal column, to the Brahmarandhra of the head and is invisible and subtle. In everyday life we feel this as we breath in and stand more upright, letting the top of our head becoming attached to an invisible thread that helps us maintain that upright vertical stance. This is again something I've become much more aware of as I continue with my research into visualising interoception.

The Chinese arts of health, maintain that an upright posture for the cultivation and circulation of energy is vital. The Taiji Pole, is said to run directly through the centre of the body from the top of our head from the (Bai Hui) Spirits Door energy point (Qi Xue) down to the (Hui Yin) Meeting Yin energy point which is located between our anus and testicles. It is an energetic line on which are found the three elixir energy centres ( Dan Tians) of the upper Dan Tian, which is located in the head, the middle Dan Tian located in the chest and the lower Dan Tian located in the abdomen. The Taiji Pole also has three major energy channels that connect to it; 1: The Govenor channel (Du Mai) which travels up the back from the tail bone to the roof of the mouth and is considered a Yang channel. 2: The Conception channel, that travels from the tip of the tongue down the front of the body to the (Hui Yin) energy point between the legs is considered a Yin channel. 3: The most important energy channel that is also connected to the Taiji Pole is known as the Thrusting channel (Zhong Mai) which travels directly between both the Governor and Conception channels. In medical Qigong practice, a priority is regulating these two channels in order to balance Yin and Yang in the body.

Taiji Pole

Governing Vessel Meridian Acupuncture Points

Conception Vessel Meridian Acupuncture Points

Our backbones are also a protection for our nerves. Each vertebra has a hole in the centre, so when they stack on top of each other they form a hollow tube that holds and protects the entire spinal cord and its nerve roots. The spinal cord itself is a large collection of nerve tissue that carries messages from our brains to the rest of our body. Working in a spinal injuries centre, has highlighted for myself how important this is and the complexity of the body's wiring is such that doctors are still not quite sure as to what the effects will be of any spinal column breakages. As we can see from the acupuncture charts above, each point along the spine is linked to a different effect. For instance CV10 is linked to issues with the lower stomach, such as stagnation, bloating, distention, weak digestion, diarrhea, undigested food in the stool, vomiting as well as rumbling or gurgling noises made by the movement of fluid and gas in the intestines.

We are it seems both physically wired and mentally wired. Energies flow between parts of the body in ways that at times are confusing, but perhaps only because we don't quite yet understand the full complexity of their interrelationship.

Like trees we have evolved to stand tall. Trees maintain their verticality by constructing a scaffolding of trunks, limbs and branches that enable them to rise from the ground into the upper atmosphere. This makes them free of competition from ground covering plants and shrubs. In landscapes humans and trees are often the verticals against which the horizontality of the landscape is measured. In fact you can structure a landscape around a vertical and horizontal axis.

The differences between forests and woods, agricultural land, park landscapes, reed-beds and marshlands are recorded using height, openness and density of vegetation. All vegetation aspires to reach upwards and turns towards the sun. Whether a grass stalk or a fir tree, plants have evolved a vertical structure, designed to be able to bend with the wind and at the same time achieve maximum height by building rows of semi-rigid cells upon rows semi-rigid cells in the form of complex matrices.

It is gravity that rules this world. However, although it was the first force to be described mathematically (by Isaac Newton in 1687), we still do not know how it really works; the best modern description apparently being the general theory of relativity. We know what it does, but not what it is. The mystery of gravity is that it is an attractive force, but while the other forces such as electro-magnetism, can be both positive and negative and cancel each other out, gravity is only attractive, with no way to repel it, except it would seem to me metaphorically. Every time we stand up, we fight against gravity, we are in effect by living, a type of anti-gravity force.

Georgia O'Keefe wrote the following to her husband Alfred Stieglitz in 1929:

"There is much life in me...I realised I would die if I it could not move towards something...it makes me feel I am growing very tall and straight inside...and very still."

The flat landscape of New Mexico had given her a new life, one that she sensed verticality, as she measured herself against her surroundings.