Day 8: Home, The Finnish International School, Art Gallery, Library, Playground<\/p>\n
Where is the art ? The art always appears in places you least expect. Maybe it is just a game of hide and seek? I found a hidden staircase leading to a locked door in our apartment. Naoise found me hiding under the bed and when I got up my clothes were caked in dust. The under side of the bed has not been touched in a long time.<\/p>\n
We are the art. Me and Naoise. We are the subject. You can find us in Takahuhti. We are here. We breath We move. We look after each other. We are a temporary performance negotiating this place and time.<\/p>\n
Sometimes we struggle. Sometimes we feel at home. Naoise told me that he likes this house it is calm and quiet and peaceful. If he had to live here he would do so happily.<\/p>\n
Naoise is sleeping while I write this. We can not always be making together. There at least has to be a record. A document. Some evidence. I cannot rest……but as the days speed past I feel more relaxed. I am occupying this space I AM PRESENT.<\/p>\n
We are all just passing through, moving on, tracing a line.<\/p>\n
I have not stepped out in the dark yet. I am always inside when the night falls.<\/p>\n
A virtual breakfast via Skype \u00a0helped to get Naoise off to school. We missed the bus that we had aimed to be catching. I excepted that we would be late and just hoped that the teacher would be kind and understanding and thankfully she was.<\/p>\n
We arrived to building caos, as the school was undergoing some refurbishment work. There was no reception, no security, we just walked in. There was no fear. There is less anxiety here. There are no child snatchers, or boggy men or wrong doers waiting to get inside. Only an open door.<\/p>\n
The welcome is warm. The children all smile and smile and want Naoise to sit with them. I am delighted and have to hold back the tears. It was the love and company of children that Naoise has been wanting for.<\/p>\n
I cannot be everything for him. He needs others…..other children. They are his real playmates, not me, they really understand. I have been a child, I crave to return to that childish place. I glimpse it. Sometimes I inhabit it for brief moments. Then I have to be adult again. I have to be adult for him.<\/p>\n
The teacher is reserved, strict, a reassured and calm voice. Occasionally she rings a bell to get the children’s attention when the class becomes noisy. The lesson is art. The children are painting an autumn scene of birth trees shedding autumn leaves. The art lesson is ordered and structured but there is space for creativity within. The children paint with watercolours.<\/p>\n\n\t\t