‘But the forest IS queer’ part 1

Beech forest, Brandenburg, Germany

‘But the Forest is queer’, or so said Merry Brandybuck in Chapter 6 of Tolkien’s The Fellowship of the Ring. He was telling Frodo and his friends about the strange and rather forbidding woodland that faced them as they passed out of The Shire on their journey east to Rivendell.  

One of the many, many things I love about The Lord of the Rings is Tolkien’s use of the word queer. Firstly, he uses it SO often; 9 times in the first chapter alone! He finds endlessly different ways to apply the word, to people, places, feelings, situations – pretty much anything and everything can be queer in the LOTR universe. It is such a rich and varied use of a single word. 

As a gay man, ‘queer’ is a word that I’ve had a particular connection to for most of my adult life, but it is Tolkien’s liberal sprinkling of it all over his great work that is probably my favourite use of it in literature. Again and again ‘queer’ is used to describe something out of the ordinary or not easily explained. The meaning of the word itself cannot be precisely pinned down and hence it remains beautifully nuanced throughout the book, no matter how many times it appears. For example, when Merry is describing the Old Forest to his friends he tells them how the paths through the wood seem to ‘shift and change from time to time in a queer fashion’. In another example, when Frodo first meets Strider at The Prancing Pony, he doesn’t take kindly to the Ranger at first. Strider doesn’t blame him; Well, I have a rather rascally look, have I not? said Strider with curl of lip and a queer gleam in his eye.’ 

Some uses of the word may make us smile today, if not snigger, as Farmer Maggot says goodbye to Frodo and friends and declares ‘it’s been a queer day and no mistake’. There is also writing to delight anybody who has ever felt a bit ‘other’, such as in Chapter 1, when the Gaffer is standing up for the Baggins’s during a discussion in the local pub; ‘If that’s being queer, then we could do with a bit more queerness in these parts’ – here here Mr. Gamgee! And one my favourite lines, when Merry tells the gang ‘We don’t want to go that way! The Withywindle valley is said to be the queerest part of the whole wood – the centre from which all the queerness comes, as it were’.  It sounds like my kind of place.  

LOTR was written between about 1937 and 1949 and ‘queer’ certainly had various meanings by then. It was already in use as a term to describe an aspect of gay subculture, namely gay men who self-identified as more conventionally ‘masculine’. But it became a much more pejorative word later in the 20th century until it was reclaimed in the 1980s by activists who sought to challenge homophobia and prejudice against people with HIV and AIDS. It was also used by the more radical end of the LGBT community spectrum to set themselves apart from the ‘gay’ movement which they felt was too cosied up to the liberal conservative mainstream. 

Today, queer is everywhere, it’s meaning having broadened to include an ever-wider group of minority identities. Perhaps the meaning has evolved into something a little closer to the way Tolkien used it in his writing; unusual and hard to pin down. 

I don’t describe myself as ‘queer’ mainly because I’ve never felt entirely comfortable being part of a group or a particular category. I’ve always hated those diversity questionnaires you fill in when you apply for a job where you have to tick a box to describe yourself. I prefer to be a bit more free-floating, on the margins with one foot in and one foot out as it were (it’s typically me that I choose to live life across two countries, Germany and the UK), but maybe that just makes me even more queer! 

For the birds

A Sudden Spring, mixed media collage on paper, 25 x 32 cm, 2021

It’s been no surprise to hear that so many people have taken up birdwatching during the lockdowns and the Covid restrictions. I guess we’re even more in awe of their ability to fly, and rather envious of it too, as we’re stuck in out little patch, with little prospect of flitting anywhere for a while.

Rain Clearing, Moonrise, acrylic on paper, collaged onto panel, 40 x 50 cm, 2021

Even if you’re locked down in a city, living in a flat, like I do, you can still enjoy seeing these wonderful creatures. Flying, coming and going with the seasons, nesting, raising young, feeding, fighting, getting on with their lives, they help keep us in contact with the natural world we’re a part of, even if we’re not able to engage with it very much at the moment. But from my balcony, in the middle of the city, i’ve seen an amazing variety of birds flying by or in the trees outside our home; woodpeckers, nuthatches, jays, jackdaws, gyre falcons, herons, tits and finches.

Now I’m starting to hear more birdsong too, and I realise how much I’ve missed it and what a wonderful, evocative sound it is.

We’ve had a particularly cold winter here but it’s changed, almost overnight, into a particularly warm spring. This is probably not good news, climate-wise, but it does lift the spirits 🙂

The Old House Candle Company — Red’s Kingdom

My dear pal in Whitstable, Phil Gomm, has launched his own scented candle company recently with the first range of aromas inspired by a wonderful old French farmhouse he often stayed in before Corona restrictions kicked in last year. The candles have a lovely country farmhouse kitchen vibe and they smell divine.

Right now, locked down in deepest winter, these smells plug me right in to lush gardens, cool stone interiors, aromatic herbs, and, best of all, sunshine 🙂

Here’s Phil’s blog post from last week when the web shop launched –

Over the past year, and prior to the UK’s first lockdown, when I suspect many people’s thoughts turned to the therapeutic value of making, I’ve been developing an idea for a range of scented candles. Written down in black and white like that, I can’t help but reflect on how improbable that may sound – certainly to those who know me well, and even more so to those people who only know me from what I choose to put out on here. Are these scented candles somehow a bit uncanny, perhaps? Do they have a nasty surprise in them, an unwelcome bit of grit, or chink of razor blade? Are they somehow spooky, or kooky or fragranced bizarrely? Nope.

The Old House Candle Company — Red’s Kingdom

Spellbound

Spellbound, acrylic on paper, collaged onto panel, 40 x 40 cm, 2021

After several days of snow and bitterly cold temperatures the sky cleared today and turned a deep, clear blue. Everything sparkled and the streets were looking like a Christmas card. So, to keep in tune with the seasons, I’m making more winter-themed work at the moment, including this scene with a barn owl flying over a frosty landscape.

The cold here in Berlin has been intense, but, thankfully, our flat is toasty and we’re cosy indoors. I wish we had an open fire though, that would make the snug feeling perfect, that and maybe listening to the shipping forecast whilst sipping a cup of hot chocolate – there’s nothing so cosy as being indoors under a blanket listening to news of a howling gale somewhere else.

I’ve made images with barn owls before, I find them so awe-inspiring, I never tire of trying to paint them. Whenever I return to Sleaford, the town where I grew up, I take a walk out of town along the river at sunset and I often see a barn owl flying along the river in exactly the same place each time. It always stops me in my tracks and I’m utterly spellbound. I don’t know anybody who reacts differently when they see one of these birds, they are such a magical sight.

I’m not surprised that so much folklore has grown up around barn owls, they are so arresting. Most of the associations are rather doom-laden though; foretelling a death etc, and it was a custom to nail a barn owl to a door to ward off lightening strikes and other evils. I’m glad they don’t do that any more; their habitats are under constant threat and they’ve been struggling in places so they need all the help they can get. Funnily enough, when i see one, they always make me think of my Dad, who passed away a few years ago, perhaps because he was the person who first took me birdwatching when I was a child. I always want to turn to him and say, ‘wow. Dad, did you see that?!’

There are few sights that make me catch my breath like seeing the ghostly shape of a barn owl flying at dusk, it’s just marvellous.

Life, still

Winter Gathering, acrylic, paper collage on panel, 50 x 70 cm, 2021

It’s become a bit of a cliché but I’ve been paying more attention to what’s around me on my doorstep during the lockdown. Without the prospect of flitting about, winter holidays or days out of town into the country, I’ve been seeing a lot more of my immediate neighbourhood while we go for a walk around the block to get some fresh air each day.

During a recent stroll I collected a bunch of winter leaves and berries to put on the table to draw. There was so much out there, so many interesting shapes and colours, I don’t think I’d fully appreciated it before. They’ve provided lots of subject matter for drawing and painting during a very grey, cold January. My painting desk has become more like a nature table, covered with jars of twigs, seed heads, berries and fungi.

Still Life (Midwinter), acrylic on panel, 30 x 40 cm, 2021

I’ve only just discovered the wonderful podcast called The Stubborn Light of Things by Melissa Harrison and I’ve been listening whilst painting these still lifes. The sounds of the countryside are so lovely, and while life has been so restricted, I think they also help remind us we’re all part of something much bigger. It’s good to know that, despite the disruption and difficulties we’re going through, the world keeps turning, the natural world carries on, time keeps passing – we’re not stuck.

Each episode of The Stubborn Light of Things is structured around a particular theme; hope, meaning, weather, to name a few. There are poetry readings, guest speakers, the diaries of Gilbert White (the pioneering 18th century naturalist), and the sounds from around Melissa’s Suffolk home. If you don’t know it already, you can have a listen on Melissa’s website here.

Sketchbook page, coloured pencil on paper, 30 x 30 cm, 2021
Winter Foliage sketch, charcoal on paper, 40 x 50 cm, 2021

I’ll be staying close to home for a while yet as lockdown is set to continue, and also because we’re about to have some bitterly cold weather here in Berlin and it won’t be much fun going out for very long! Of course I can’t wait to travel again, and when I do i’ll so appreciate it, but, for now, what’s on the doorstep is enough.

Winter Twigs study, oil and acrylic on paper, 2021