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It is always an interesting experience to return to a place where ‘something significant’ began, like in The Wizard of Oz. Sometimes it can be a little scary, sometimes a little surprising, but fingers crossed, always a colourful experience. I was fortunate enough to go back to Africa in the winter of 2008. We travelled the yellow-brick road without the flying monkeys, a scarecrow and an annoying dog - they were regretfully confiscated at passport control. We travelled to the land, environment and culture that truly got the heads rolling, in an ethical and sustainable way of course! It was some 11 years since my last visit, leaving an itch in my creative consciousness that remained, until recently, unscratched. I was lucky enough, in the intervening years, to meet and begin working with Cordelia John. We often talked about Africa, where it all started - the cradle of mankind. Some considerable time later, despite my tendency to drag my knuckles when I walk, it became the launch pad for David Farrer Sculpture! It was important to go back to one of the many places I consider myself to be from (where you choose to leave something of yourself on the journey through). I was interested to see whether it still held any resonance. For the record, I was born in Leeds in 1968 (in an era that apparently classifies me as ‘a child of the revolution’, according to a suspiciously ‘hippyesque’ old teacher). Raised in a village between Wetherby and Harrogate called Spofforth, whose claim to fame (or infamy) was being the birthplace of Hotspur, arch-villain of Shakespeare’s Henry IV. I have lived in Masham, in beautiful Wensleydale, Knaresborough and rural leafy Surrey (almost as nice as Yorkshire). I love countryside, villages and open spaces, all of which have provided inspiration of some kind. I studied a fine art degree in Sunderland and The Hague, majoring in printmaking. I graduated in 1990. I still draw, if not as much as I’d like to and have a printing press raring to go, when I can find a minute! Going back to Africa was like returning to see an old friend. The inspirations were as fresh as they were in 1995, when I tentatively took the long road marked ‘precarious career’. On our travels we were able to see our oldest surviving sculpture, the second one ever made. The first one, suffering a suitably African fate, was eaten by termites. Whether they had good taste in choosing a papier-mache kudu for dinner is debatable. Whether it tasted any good is unlikely. On hearing the news, I reconciled myself with the knowledge that somewhere out there, in an unfortunate mound, were a bunch of termites with bad flatulence and indigestion. The thieving bastards. Cordelia and I have brought our sculpture a long way since we began working together in 2002. Being able to travel and share the environment that originally inspired the work has been a huge privilege. To find it still has that magical ability to do so was a hippo-sized bonus. Being chivalrous and carrying Cordelia’s luggage has been interesting too. Just how many of those hippos can one girl stuff into a suitcase? As for an abiding memory about taking the journey, there is no substitute for being there first-hand for complete sensory immersion. Experiencing the animals we endeavour to replicate within their ecosystem. Realising that they are ecosystems in their own right with a trail of bugs, birds and beasties in tow. The smells and sounds like a micro-town square on a busy market day, were a revelation. These are the things a dusty old encyclopaedia would find impossible to convey, without ruining the carpet!
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