By Angel, Stage 5
Art Write Light 2021 is a creative writing project curated by Story Factory, in collaboration with visual artist Blak Douglas. During the program, students from Bonnyrigg High School and St Clair High School were introduced to the work of Blak Douglas, and created written and audio pieces responding to his artwork.
Sirens surround a bloody mess. Chaotic sobbing from the abandoned accompany Mother Gaia’s rustling and growling. There are deep heavy hearted sighs.
I don’t know what I was thinking, why did I ever think this was a good idea? But was it so bad to want to run through the dandelion fields? Even if it killed me, I thought just once, just for once in my life, maybe something would change, maybe I would change. Look, I didn’t want this, I didn’t wish for any of this but what’s done is done. Detached from life you say? Cruel? Emotionless? Is that what you think I am? Why? Why do you say so? Their normally petite and fragile shoulders now puffed out their chest, face red with betrayal, outraged and so hopeless the volume of their voice blasted into a deafening silence, cracking in frustration. Why are they crying? Weren’t they angry? Why are they sad now? Why do I feel a knot in my stomach in response to their hostility?
What is this clench in my chest, like someone’s pulling back at my heart and suddenly my throat closes, I can’t breathe. Nothing is coming through anymore, my body feels like it’s on fire but simultaneously it’s so cold. It’s so so cold.
I never thought or even imagined watching someone else walk away while you’re in pain would be so grey. The clouds above seemed to take pity on me, they flew about and hid my grey under their shadows and with that, the crows cried for me, it’s funny how I have nothing else except for the nature around me when I’m left all alone. All I longed for was the blue of the sky at first, the big blue that covered everyone, now the clouds are blocking even that.
The sun, never found within the grey in the sky, hidden away, always gone in the moment of need. Over in the distance, past the grey concrete alleyways was the same sandstone statue where my fondly painful memories were made. The statue’s shadow now disappeared in the neverending void cast down by the ones who we elected. Those clouds, our friends, our enemies, they aren’t who we think they are, what are we to them? Are we animals for their entertainment? Their playthings? For them to exploit? In the end, do we have any control?
Much is Rife, Blak Douglas, 2021
Art Write Light is generously supported by the Balnaves Foundation.