Pigeons

Im slowly working on this installation inspired by pigeons and the people who keep them. I am an avid pigeon fancier myself, a great admirer of the birds and the diversity of the breed.

I have been using a jig to cut out these wooden pigeons from recyled wood that I have poached from around the property. Ive never used a jig before so am quit pleased with the results. It is unfortunetly quit difficult on the hands and arms so I have to take alot of breaks between each session. Im not sure when i will be cutting again as am in a bit of a flare up, the frustration is unreal.

The idea is to have as many as I can of these wooden pigeons. painted using the ink and gouache wash off technique. I then used a wood cutting tool to create texture and emphasis the lines. They will be hung slighly off the wall in a large flock. I was going to have free standing arms raising up from the ground towards the birds but now i am not so sure. These would also be made of wood. I as also thinking of making a set of lungs, in ode to all those fanciers who have had to give up the hobby due to getting pigeon lung, but in hindsight this seems to literal and a bit of a bore.

You can see (just about) my original sketchbook idea below.

What I do think would be interesting would be using one of the pigeon cutouts as a wood block and printing another flock going in the opposite direction in just plain black.  Shadows. If you have ever observed pigeons flying they tend to fly in a loop.

The hardest part as always will be finding somewhere to display it, if I ever finish it...Like so much of my work and othe small installations I have made they are packed away as soon as they are made.

A small poem I did quickly one day. Not quit finished. 'Ode to the Pigeon Keeper.'

The pigeon keeper,

The pigeon men and women,

The boys and girls,

The sound of the silvery flutter of wings on air.

The mad rush of beating flapping wings on breath,

The smooth touch of the pigeons breast.

The gentle flutter of the heart, beating madly and the softly

with knowing and trust.

Inspecting each tail feather and wing with care.

Ode to the pigeon keeper!

What love you give,

What hearbreak,

To each bird you call your own,

knowing they could never really be owned.

That they could leave if they chose once set free, 

Each night counting them in,

Glad they are safe and are home.