The Cruel Sea.

I often pontificate and ramble on about my art regards to my own thoughts and beliefs. I personally feel art should be translated as you see it but there are other people that have asked me to explain my art or try to put it into some kind of context, but this isn't always the case. Sometimes I discuss situations that have struck a chord, such as feminism or my thoughts about the Divine Goddess aspect of my life. I don't tend to stick to one topic and ramble on about many things, I try to be as informed as I can but do occasionally miss something relevant. We can always try and include all points of view but at the end of the day, we are all accustomed to keep with our own ideas on the subject and try to explain why we feel as we do.

I want to write about the migrant situation and the problems that have arisen between the UK and France regarding this. At first let me say quite bluntly that I do not appreciate and actually deplore memes and jokes about sharks in the English Channel and suchlike. These are displaced people, they are human, just like everyone reading this is human and deserved to be treated as such and not as if they are a bad joke or a pain in the rear end. These people have fled terrible circumstances that you and I cannot even begin to imagine unless we have lived through such times ourselves. They have been moved and pursued from one place to another, long before they arrived in France and have received dreadful abuse.

The migrants themselves, apart from fleeing unstable and dangerous countries, are been used as pawns in political battles that has nothing to do with them. One recent example is between the EU, Belarus and Minsk. The EU have accused Belarus of using the migrants in a political game of their own devising, regarding their protest about sanctions. It was reported that they flew migrants from the Middle East and bought them by trucks from Belarus to the Polish border, which of course has been denied by Minsk. At one point, 100 migrants arrived by trucks, they were tired and angry, violence erupted as they attempted to cross the border by force, before they were moved on once again. 10 people died of the cold, this number included a baby of about a year old. They died attempting to shelter in a forest nearby. Since then, the tension has de-escalated and the migrants have been moved to a warehouse, some have been repatriated, many still feel in danger and although the tensions have now died down, many in the EU fear that this situation will rise once again but with refugees from Afghanistan.

Detail of Fire and Ice, The Meeting in False Spring. - Oil On Canvas. Trac Davies, L'arc-en-ciel spirale / Spiral Rainbow.

So, long before any of the migrants arrived in France they have been moved from pillar to post, they have been used in political situations and sanctions that have nothing to do with them and they must feel that their futures are very bleak indeed. Yet the political situation between France and Brexit Britain is extremely contentious and once again the migrants have been caught up in the quagmire that is politics. In France, politicians have stated that lax labour laws cause a haven for the illegal immigrant and this is why they want to go to the UK. Before any of you deny this, know that in the early 1990's, I once worked as a housekeepers assistant for a hotel in the south of England. The hotel I worked in was fairly above-board, but smaller hotels associated with it were full of illegal immigrants. They worked for very little, there was a huge turnover of illegal staff, who I found polite and just kept their heads down and got on with the job. Illegal immigrants have always been able to slip through the nets as such, why should anything be different now? The French feel that the Calais Migrants do not want to live in France because it is easier in the UK. Such legislation has to rest with the authorities, ordinary voters can do nothing about that. However it would be good of the people of both UK and France put everything into perspective and glanced at the graph in Le Monde. The UK has the lowest immigration rate, the French the second lowest, Hungary is at the top for the amount of immigrants that they have taken into their country, so much for these people wanting to go to the UK to live. The British have stated that they feel France do not do enough to police the situation, but they can't police everyone and as the number of refugees have reduced not increased they have been doing their job. However, there is an outstanding bill as £20,000 from £54,000 was alone paid to the French authorities, after some grumbling. Add to this the fishing rights war and the general hostility between the two countries since an already failing Brexit was put into place and you have a recipe for disaster. In short, both sides in some way are to blame for the situation, but they can't be held accountable for the migrants determination to cross the channel in a rubber dinghy, they can't be held accountable for the traffickers, who also tell these people that the channel is a lake. The question should always be asked is why they want to go to any particular country?

Les Gardiens de Bretagne. - Oil On Canvas. Trac Davies, L'arc-en-ciel spirale / Spiral Rainbow.

There seems to be a body of people on both sides of the channel that feel personally affronted about the migrant situation. They seem to think that it is a personal insult, that these poor, displaced people that have been shoved around from pillar to post, exist, especially when they are in their country. There was even a puppet refugee, a 3.5 metre tall child. Her name is Little Amal, which means Hope. Created by Handspring, she highlighted the hostility that refugees often experience as they travel along the Syrian border to the UK or the countries along the way that they settle in. She travelled 8,000km from Syria to Manchester. She was welcomed in Rome where she shook hands with the Pope, she was stoned on arrival in Greece, there were protests in Athens about her planned visit, so her route was diverted and even the mayor in Calais protested about her presence. This, you understand is a puppet and her presence absolutely underlined how refugees are often treated and the strong feelings that are evoked by their presence alone. The journey of Little Amal would not have been able to replicate the experiences a real child would have had and the things they saw. It is always the innocent that suffer but refugees never feel that they have a choice when it comes to fleeing. A child has even less input in these decisions and have to go along for the ride whatever has been decided. What I wanted to say to these people, that are insulted about refugees, that this was never about you. It was about a better life elsewhere, especially if these people had children. The media reports should not aimed to enrage or even disgust you, although the popular press will use any angle to sell newspapers, news is big business after all. Just remember the migrants that have died in crossing those seas, the men, women and children who pinned their hopes on another country welcoming them, somewhere they could call home. Just think of the reality, and realize that the ending painting, but much more horrifying and real, was the last thing that many of them saw and experienced.

After the Storm - Oil On Canvas. Trac Davies, L'arc-en-ciel spirale / Spiral Rainbow.

I wanted to add a personal note. Since Brexit I am now classed as an immigrant, I chose to come to Bretagne but did not have to walk for thousands of miles and despite the political turmoil, I have not fled a war-torn country and neither did I have to face comments when I arrived elsewhere such as, why don't you stay and fight for your country, when the weapons that are faced are vastly technical and all you have is a pitchfork or breadknife. I have thought long and hard about such comments and I find them both insulting and bizarre, I am pretty sure that the people mindlessly spouting such ignorance would run as the migrants have had to, rather than get blasted to smithereens by something that they just don't have the technology to fight against. I have found that even though I am just across the Channel, the culture is vastly different so what it must be like for people that come from further flung places, is anyone's guess. Being English and living in France I can see both sides of the story, but there is an article published in The Local France that covers all sides much more succinctly than I can, including more facts and figures and a global view. I have included it in the links below.

Arrival.

These past couple of years I have struggled with blogging. Some of this is due to a feeling of general malaise regarding the Covid 19 situation, the lockdowns and travel restrictions that have resulted from this, but some of this eternal struggle is due to my my own personal circumstances. Despite this I am still creating as I shed my skin. I have been writing, somewhat sporadically and am at present, editing a book I have been working on, I am brainstorming ideas for the follow-up, I am writing poetry and I am still continuing to paint. I also have been trying my hand at sculpture and thinking about my creative future whilst adhering to the mantra, one day at a time as I wait for circumstances to change and attempt to makes plans.

I tend to have intense periods of creativity and fallow times where I occasionally wallow in thought, whilst reading as much French as I possibly can, wool-gathering as I go. I let myself drift and let the ideas increment and grow into something that I can work with as I meditate and consider.

Prayer - Oil on Canvas, Trac Davies.

Poetry is a form of creativity that I use when I am bubbling over with words and images and there is nowhere tangible for them to go. I tend to deal with ethereal along with real emotions as I ramble along both well known and unfamiliar mental pathways.

The Witching Hour - Oil on Canvas. Trac Davies.

Arrival.

I am both strong and vulnerable,

For I have allowed my entire nervous system to be exposed.

Bare branches of sensitivity lit by cold moonlight

and warmed by sunlight,

As it insidiously crawls to the surface of my skin.

Branching out from the inner core to feel and experience.
Freezing as it hits the outside world

Brittle iciness opposing my tempestuous heat.
I gasp with awareness that plays on raw nociceptors,

Synapses twang in empathy with other people’s energy,
It’s an instrument that I am forever tuning,

My ultra-precise inner barometer.
Sensitive to all thought and nuance,

Measuring both content and context that were beforehand unknown.
Before events I was “too sensitive”,

But these days I don’t apologise any more
For not being enough

for being too needy, too compromising,
So weak, because; “she is altogether too much.”

Conflicting emotions that raged an inner war that I did not be recognize.

I chitter-chatted in automatic response, because I never wished to put my baggage onto broader shoulders.

This verbosity, like wisteria shielded my emotional nudity from the harsher springtime elements,
Forming intense hues, flowering clouds that spiral ever outwards.

Yet at times, I feel like a Goddess with a sword strapped across my back
Viewing a particularly difficult mountain-range that I have to climb.

It’s curious that I feel both these things simultaneously.
Often the Mountains are my own behaviour

My own demons that I have to learn to love and forgive but also my progression
The goals I wish to achieve.

I climb them everyday, attaining a new plateau of understanding

But I have to be careful that I don’t pull myself apart anew
Into the pit of my own shame where I made terrible mistakes

Out of anger, grief or fear,
Or simply not knowing how to approach things.

A chasm between heart and mouth
Which many of us struggle with,

Because our brain is not engaged.
Such is the heart-breaking toll to pay when we wear our nervous system inside-out.

But still climbing, still swimming, still flying,
I know that I will arrive

Only to have to climb another mountain-range,
Swim another sea,

Or fly another slipstream

But I understand

Will

All

Worthwhile.

Eventually.

Detail of a WIP - Oil on Canvas, Trac Davies.

Please be patient, I'm rebranding everything and am attempting to build a website. Thank you.

My work can also be viewed at:

Trac Davies Artist - Musing's from the Depths.

Friday 26 November 2021

The Migrant Crises: A Personal View.

The Cruel Sea.

Thursday 25 November 2021

The Eternal Struggle of the Budding Creative.

Arrival.