Risograph Print for the film launch, printed by Dizzy Ink
‘Desire Lines’ Film Premiere , 16 October 2021, Keswick Alhambra
Desire Lines: a short film made on Crow Park in Keswick
Crow Park was once the site of an ancient oak woodland; when the trees were felled in the 18th century, a view across Derwentwater was opened up, and became both a focal point of the early conservation movement and a picturesque ‘Viewing Station’.
The ‘Desire Lines’ film explores how a familiar viewpoint can reveal different ways of experiencing place - including the more-than-human; and brings together research, design and creative writing from the project.
Seven characters roam Crow Park, revealing aspects of the landscape from different perspectives. Garbed in unusual costumes that reference different entities - including weather, bird, and rock - the characters move through time and space, feeling out their relationship with each other and the land. From tensions between characters, to interdependence; ancient fish to mineral extraction; the rise and fall of the lake to transformed landscapes; the film explores many-layered histories and imagined futures of Crow Park.
The film is the result of an art project led by Rebecca Beinart, engaging with local communities and exploring connections humans have with the natural world, hosted by the National Trust. The words, ideas and costumes for the film were generated through community workshops from 2020-21.
www.nationaltrust.org.uk/desire-lines
Credits
Performers: Livi Adu, George Cole, Monique Gadella, Emily Johnston, Carly Raines, Jack Utting McBride and Jordan Worsfold
Voices: Gillian Scholey and Jordan Tweddle
A film by Rebecca Beinart, produced by: Rebecca Beinart, R.L. Wilson, National Trust
Cinematography: R.L. Wilson and Laurence Campbell
Post-production and Sound Design: R.L. Wilson
Words by: Rebecca Beinart, Jessie Binns, David Haley, Angi Holden, Geeta Roopnarine, Gillian Scholey
Quotes from: Thomas Gray’s Journal, Thomas West’s Guide to the Lakes, Maurice Pankhurst, The Met Office, Environment Agency
Costumes: Rebecca Beinart, Maggi Toner-Edgar and Viri Sica, kindly supported by Alpkit Keswick
Script advisor and Writing Workshops: Wallace Heim
Movement Workshops: Simone Kenyon
Colour Grade: Laurence CampbellSubtitles: Stuart Bannister
Production Assitant and Photography: Lexie Ward
Thanks to: National Trust North and West Lakes, Theatre by the Lake, St Herbert’s Primary School, Keswick Museum, Keswick Explorer Scouts, Full of Noises, Kat’s Kitchen, Keswick Brewery, Tim Allman, Jessie Binns, Cathy Newbery, Kiki Claxton, Maya Chowdhry, Dave Cryer, Michael-Anthony Ward.
The Desire Lines project is part of Trust New Art, the National Trust’s programme of contemporary arts, supported using public funding by Arts Council England and supported by Arts&Heritage.
Excerpts of creative writing by workshop participants, spring 2021.
Short sections of these were used in the film script. Writing exercises devised by Wallace Heim and Rebecca Beinart.
Desire Lines
The water is cold, and as I wait for my body to become acclimatised, I trail my hand in the water and watch the drops fall back in the lake... I think about the idea of memory. Many people believe that water has memory. I wonder at the nature of that memory, what it means. I open my mouth and sip water. The water is cool on the tip of my tongue. It is slightly brackish, but pleasant. I trace the passage down my throat and into my belly. It is soothing to my warm tissues. I wonder if that memory of water becomes part of me, transforms to something else, something I cannot decipher. – Geeta Roopnarine
Wobbling, sinking, balancing, oozing, cold smell of decay as the swamp embraces my boots. The springy spongy firmness of a patch of hopeful moss, branches scratching my skin with dry papery leaves… The shock of cold water like an enemy stabbing my ankles, so I no longer have feet only raw nerve endings that wince and stumble over these sharp angled pebbles. – Jessie Binns
Ask the water and ask the wind and ask the insect what they need...
An Archeology of the Future
The artefact was discovered near the ancient oaks, just inside the confines of the dig. As it was carefully lifted out, flakes of a crisp, orange-black material scaled away from its main structure. On picking up a fragment, it crumbled in my fingers and left a dark, powdery residue on my skin.
On the less damaged sections there were hieroglyphics. They were from no known alphabet or language. An angular squiggle has been deciphered as linked either to an ancient power source, or a fictional figure called ‘Harry Potter’. Possibly some type of weapon that was used by Voldemort, this character’s alleged enemy...
Did this cylinder contain a substance at one time? Something that has perished and been lost forever? Further analysis is needed. – Gillian Scholey
I arrive at the site. It’s dry, dusty, hot.. they tell me a lake of water used to sit where the land slope downwards. There’s a hill in front of me, I assume it used to be an island. One of the excavators hands me two finds bags. One has a piece of something that looks like string coiled up inside...
A sound is coming from the machine, it’s beautiful. But it’s the words and emotions that they conjure up that have me immobilized… I’ve seen footage of events, I think they were called concerts, where people would gather in large numbers, listen to musicians and drink something intoxicating and generally have a good time. That must have been long before the virus took over. – Suzi Richer
Portals
The world around me condenses into a single point of white light. A fracture in space and time splitting away from a single point, light refracting in all directions.
A strange bird flew out of the rift and fell to the floor dazzled.
– Keswick Explorer Scouts
There’s the sound of the crash of waves thudding in your head but bar that it’s painless. And on the other side, everything is flipped. The sky’s the same but everywhere that was land, grass, trees, mountains, is now water, inexplicably holding its shape in these forms. And where the lake was, it’s like someone scrunched up all that earth and unfurled it to fill the shape of the lake, but everything overlaps like crumpled paper. – Lexie Ward
Writing a Crow
My distant town is pinprick small,
the gravel path I’ve climbed
no more than
a snake
winding between the scrub.
I settle on a stone
worn smooth by pilgrims,
gaze out over the fells.
Clouds gather,
casting shadows
blotting out the sun.
The wind rises – in an instant
I am no longer
on firm ground
...but airbourne...
on eye level with a coal-black crow.
Instinctively
I stretch out
feel the lift beneath
arms turned to wings
anorak to feathers.
I open my throat to cry out.
My coarse caw
echoes across the valley.
– Angi Holden