Unit 2 Feedback.
Feedback Response.
Receiving the feedback for Unit 2 felt like an important moment of pause. It offered a chance to step back from the intensity of making and reflect on how the work is being read, and where it might be asking to go next. What stood out most strongly was a sense that the different strands of my practice are beginning to come together, even if they are doing so in a fractured and unresolved way.
The course team reflected on my continued focus on drawing trees, particularly those that have been struck by lightning, and how these images were read in relation to my writing around pain and masking. The trees were described as holding on to their dignity despite visible damage, with their long-term survival left uncertain. Questions were raised around prognosis. Whether such trees are damaged internally, whether they can regenerate, and what it means that trees are able to grow new limbs in ways that human bodies cannot. These questions have stayed with me, particularly the idea of internal damage that may not be immediately visible, and how survival does not necessarily mean returning to a previous state.
The feedback also acknowledged my persistence in continuing to make work alongside chronic illness, and reflected back a sentence from my writing that articulated the importance of protecting time and energy for my practice. Seeing this recognised reinforced how closely my process of making is tied to care, pacing, and self-preservation, rather than productivity alone.
Material experimentation featured strongly in the feedback, particularly my decision to begin working on plywood. The course team challenged my response to not enjoying the feel of the brush on the surface, suggesting that resistance may be central to what the material is offering. They questioned whether my use of gesso could be understood as a form of masking, in attempting to create a familiar surface rather than engaging fully with the wood itself. This raised questions around intention. Whether the act of smoothing and controlling the surface is protective, habitual, or something that could be pushed against.
Several suggestions were offered that have opened up new possibilities for me. Working on rougher wood, allowing texture to disrupt mark making, and letting ink spread unpredictably as it finds its way into the grain. The idea of working directly onto a sliced section of a fallen branch felt particularly compelling, even if it means relinquishing the level of control I am used to when working on paper. There was also encouragement to think more deeply about the material origins of the work. Using substances derived from trees themselves, such as oak gall ink or materials from bark, and considering what it might mean to return work made from a tree back to its original location.
The feedback on my research paper was both generous and affirming. The course team described the connections I have been making between bodily pain, altered trees, spines, and landscape as complex and intellectually satisfying. They recognised the depth of research underpinning the work, particularly in relation to women’s bodies, pain, and alternative ways of understanding and communicating embodied experience beyond language. Suggestions were made to extend this research further, including engaging with scientific and psychological perspectives on pain, and considering how this work might be shared with an audience unfamiliar with chronic pain.
This has prompted me to think more carefully about how my research and making might translate into different forms of communication. How visual work, writing, and oral presentation could work together to invite others into these conversations, rather than positioning them as purely personal or specialist concerns.
Moving forward into Unit 3, this feedback has helped me clarify where I want to push my practice next. Rather than radically changing direction, it has encouraged me to go deeper. To stay with discomfort, resistance, and uncertainty, and to allow materials and ideas to challenge my habitual ways of working.
At this stage, I am holding a loose set of intentions rather than a fixed plan. To research the internal realities of damaged trees alongside their symbolic weight. To continue experimenting with wood and tree-derived materials, particularly where they resist control. To remain attentive to moments where masking appears in my process, and to question when it is protective and when it limits the work. To allow texture, unpredictability, and material history to play a more active role in shaping outcomes. And to continue writing alongside making, recognising both as integral to my practice.
Unit 2 feels less like a point of resolution and more like a moment of convergence. The work is still unsettled, but the questions feel generative. As I move into the final unit, I am interested in what might emerge if I continue to follow these questions rather than rushing to resolve them.
Unit 3 Working To Do List.
Research and contextual enquiry
Research the biological impact of lightning strikes and other forms of damage on trees, particularly internal scarring, regeneration, and long-term survival.
Look at how damaged trees are understood within forestry, ecology, and conservation, and note where metaphor and science diverge.
Extend pain research to include scientific and psychological perspectives, particularly around chronic pain, invisibility, and internal damage.
Continue reading around bodies, language, and non-verbal communication, paying attention to how these ideas intersect with landscape.
Material exploration
Continue working on wood as a primary surface, including untreated and rough wood.
Experiment with working without gesso, or with partial or disrupted applications, and document how this affects mark making and control.
Source fallen branches or reclaimed wood and test different ways of creating workable surfaces, including slicing, sanding minimally, or leaving surfaces raw.
Observe how ink behaves when allowed to spread, pool, and follow grain rather than being directed.
Ink and material sourcing
Research and test oak gall ink and other tree-derived inks or substances.
Explore how material origin and process influence the meaning of the work.
Document the making of inks or materials as part of the practice, not just the outcomes.
Process and reflection
Pay attention to moments of resistance or discomfort during making and reflect on where these arise.
Notice where control, precision, and smoothing appear as habits and question their role in the work.
Continue pacing the practice in relation to energy, recognising rest and care as part of the methodology rather than an interruption.
Maintain regular written reflection alongside making, using the blog as a space to think through uncertainty rather than resolve it.
Place and belonging
Consider where materials are sourced from and how this connects to ideas of place attachment and memory.
Experiment with the idea of returning work made from tree materials to its original or related location, even temporarily.
Reflect on how site, landscape, and material histories might shape both the making and presentation of the work.
Visual language and presentation
Explore how drawing, painting, and material experimentation sit alongside one another within a coherent body of work.
Begin thinking about how work might be presented or installed, including scale, grouping, and relationship to space.
Consider how visual work could function alongside spoken or written elements without one dominating the other.
Communication and sharing
Reflect on how the research and practice might be communicated to a wider audience.
Experiment with pairing images and short texts to invite connection rather than explanation.
Consider opportunities for small-scale collaboration or experimentation with other artists, particularly where new processes such as printmaking might open up different ways of working.
Ongoing questions to hold
Where does masking appear in the work, materially and conceptually?
What does survival look like when restoration is not possible?
How much control is necessary, and when does letting go become productive?
How can material, place, and body speak without needing to be resolved into language?
