Guernsey, Jersey and Puglia 2025

The island was part of a National Park, and one morning at around 6:30 a.m. I decided to go and explore the park and see what parts I can explore on foot. I spent two and a half hours in the park exploring the grottos, different trees and also the faro (lighthouse), or should I say the disused lighthouse that was part of the park. The terrain was rocky, there were really clear pathways, but the roads that had been laid were crumbling from the tree roots pulling them apart. To get to the lighthouse, there was a side path that went down the cliff. Along these side paths were mounds of wild rosemary, growing free and strong. They were covered by lizards that were of sandy and green shades and full of troops of ants, clearly on their day's work. Once I reached the Lighthouse, I realised Oliver was there; he too had taken an early morning walk and was filming these troops of ants for his project. I went for a closer inspection of the Lighthouse, which was left there for nature to run its course. It was on the cliffs' edge, and then I rather precariously looked down to see the replacement, the new installation of multiple light beacons in the sea, big yellow, triangle cone-shaped beacons that now warn the ships of the rocks and the hazards. The Lighthouse was disused, yet there was still a need for warning passing ships. The Lighthouse has similarities to the lighthouse on the Breakwater at Castle Cornet. It had a similar height and was also placed sort of on the edge of the land. It made me think whether any of the ships going past this tiny Lighthouse many years ago also went past the lighthouses in Alderney and in Guernsey,  delivering cargo and goods. The northern part of the island was full of grottos, which could either be accessed by walking down or by boat, but never both. I sat for a while on top of the cliff, listening to the sea slapping and slopping against the inner walls of the grotto.

Our Work/My Work

What I quickly discovered was that whenever people talked about the islands - Tremiti Islands, the Bailiwick of Guernsey, and Jersey, it seemed to fill people up with excitement and wonder. They are like loved jewels of the community. When we were in Foggia, everyone we spoke to about the Tremiti islands replied with jealousy and either showed us their photos or a place we must visit while we were there. I feel like I do not need to speak about the passion I have for the Channel Islands - so trust me, it is there! I wanted to create a piece of work that showed my care and love, which is universally felt for these islands.

 I felt the symbol of ‘mother’ encapsulates our universal adoration. In the 18th and 19th centuries, some views of ‘mother’ in folk songs in the United Kingdom had harsher connotations. It can be used as an adjective to describe a haggard, old-fashioned and poor old woman. This was definitely not the meaning I wanted to explore with my piece Mother Island. I felt in this work the mother was strong, caring, powerful, and holder of nature, truth and community. I believe that Mother Island is a song that reflects everyone's love for the islands, the past, the present, and the need to look after them for the future. For many islands around the world, change is imminent; climate change is significantly impacting many island communities. These changing coastlines remain a constant thought in my life - Where does an island begin? Where does the sea end? This song will hopefully remind us or reconfirm the importance of the islands.

Working with all the artists on the exchange has impacted my creative life as a composer. Sometimes, creating art and music is a solitary experience; you are sitting in a room or studio working on your craft. This exchange allowed me to work with other artists - run through ideas, create edits and improvements, and experiment with sound in a new way. Whilst we were in Foggia, we recorded Katie’s poems, which focused on abstracting her poem through sound, chopping tiny milliseconds of recording to create an abstract view of her poem. To reflect on the inspiration Katie draws from Dante, I abstracted the sounds in groups of threes and nines (these are important numbers to both Katie and Dante) on music editing software. This audioscape was performed in Tremiti and represented to me the essence of this exchange. Interacting with Pascquale’s ‘dentro un cielo torso’ highlighted to me the importance of participation within our works through artist to artist, but also culture to culture. For me, the main highlight was the late evening pizza, and discussions on Italian sayings, dialects, beers, ’moon water’, historical places, and caves created a bond between our group of artists. P.S. Please look up the stele in Manfredonia - they are mysterious and awe-inspiring!

I just want to end on a big thank you to The Guernsey Arts, Art House Jersey and Puglia Culture for this incredible exchange. Thank you.