Nithraid procession marching over the Devorgilla Bridge
Ode to a Moody Cow
She can be a moody cow, This town of ours. Swinging between Udderly lovely and Udderly unbearable, Just as her unmarked udders Swing, Back and forth, Almost clanking Like a long-forgotten souvenir Swiss bell. Heaving with untapped potential. Nostalgic for a time long gone, That was never really there— Endless sunny days And sweet pastures, Not having to lock front doors, And tender loving care. Where the milk of human kindness flowed abundantly And you knew the names of all your neighbours.
Moody she may be, But her mind is open, As she stands by the river, Sniffing the air, And smiling at the heady scent of a New Calf On the Block.
Intoxicated, She welcomes the change, This moody cow, Happy that her milk, Again, Can nourish. Her wisdom valued, Just filtered differently, No longer weighed down By burdens of her own making.
The sun returns, Igniting hope, Flooding dark, Forgotten, Moody corners. And she can flourish in its glow, This moody cow, This town of ours.
A tide turned. Goodbyes waved. Missions accomplished. Rebooted. Updated.
Nithraid was conceived as a public artwork to activate the riverside in Dumfries in the summer of 2013, bringing new focus and people down to celebrate the Nith. Now in its third year, Dumfries is preparing to welcome sailors upriver to the heart of the town as Nithraid 2015 sails into town on Sunday, 2nd August. Nithraid is free and open to all, and last year saw crowds of 4,000 lining the banks to watch the winning boats cross the finish line. Find out more about this year’s Nithraid.
The discussion is open, and we invite contributions to our artistic conversations. Whether you’ve been involved in Nithraid in previous years or are interested in the changing face of public art—where a sailing race becomes an artwork—please get in touch via the comments box below or send your contribution by email to [email protected].
Months of planning, budgeting, and—most importantly—creating had led to the Young Stove finally making their debut on the art scene of Dumfries and Galloway. Not to Be Sold Separately, our maiden voyage into exhibiting as a collective, launched on the 3rd of July and was met with a wave of excitement and glowing feedback.
As a group of eight young artists, each with contrasting styles and creative visions, coming together to form a cohesive show seemed like a daunting task. However, rather than becoming an obstacle, it turned into one of our greatest strengths, resulting in a vibrant and diverse collection of work that reflects who we are as a group.
Installation day brought its own challenges. With only a matter of hours to transform a beautiful yet unconventional space—complete with complex lighting—and to install all our work before opening that same evening, the pressure was intense. The learning curve was steep, as our experience ranged from seasoned exhibition veterans to those of us (myself included) who had never exhibited publicly before. Yet, remarkably, we pulled it off without a hitch! Having complete creative control and taking responsibility for hanging our own work proved to be an invaluable experience, one that will undoubtedly shape how we approach exhibitions in the future.
Not to Be Sold Separately closes on the 26th of July and will travel to Dumfries to be reimagined and reopened at the start of August. With a new space, fresh pieces, and even more artists added to the line-up, it presents an exciting opportunity to redevelop and build on the success of the exhibition’s first leg. Mill on the Fleet has been a fantastic opening venue. Transplanting a thoroughly modern, edgy collection of work into such a historical and characterful building has resulted in a glorious, colourful discordance—truly symbolic of the Young Stove.
The centred text of a poem, making the outline of a cow's teat on the page, threw me back to my childhood when we milked by hand in that famous winter. All frosted, the universe, but my cheek was warm on her flank when I stripped—that's what we called it, stripping—two quarters into the pail.
Black-and-white backs smell so pink in the byre. The weight of a full udder, its high shape between her hocks, and her sighing, her blowing, as I get the feel of it and she lets down her milk. Blessed animal, still giving her warmth when there's nothing outside but ice.
Neatsfoot oil, I thought today, a last gift rendered from her hooves and cannon bones. And "Near," an archaic name for cattle, or "Kine", "Dà" in Welsh, the same as the word for "good".
Nithraid was conceived as a public artwork to activate the riverside in Dumfries during the summer of 2013, bringing new focus and drawing people down to celebrate the River Nith. Now in its third year, Dumfries is preparing to welcome sailors upriver to the heart of the town as Nithraid 2015 sails into town on Sunday, 2nd August. Nithraid is free and open to all, and last year saw crowds of 4,000 lining the banks to watch the winning boats cross the finish line. Find out more about this year’s Nithraid here.
The discussion is open, and we invite contributions to our artistic conversations. Whether you have been involved in Nithraid in previous years or are interested in the changing face of public art and how a sailing race can also be an artwork, please get in touch via the comments box below. Alternatively, to send your contribution, please email [email protected].
When the Earth’s crust thickened and cooled deeply, it cracked, and four avenues dropped neatly in lines: four invitations for four rivers—Annan, Nith, Dee, and Cree. Water, washing soil over the rock, posted another invitation—for a beast to graze the land, to break it with footprints for germinating seeds, and to re-fertilise it with their dung.
We know the coos, slabbed together on a cold, damp morning, their breath hanging together like the breath of the Earth; or contented and dispersed across a summer field, chewing in deep rhythm. We know them as part of the oneness of our place.
Our land is pastureland, home to a kinship between humankind and cookind that has spawned a million inventions with milk, meat, and leather.
Our coos have been our wealth—their mobility precious in times when you couldn’t hide a field of barley from ancient raiders. Always moving from winter to summer pastures, and to market over Annan, Nith, Dee, and Cree.
Humans moved too. In tough times, we spread far across the seas, and as migrants found their feet, they called for their coos to follow. Great Uncle Jimmy raised Shorthorn cattle in Wigtownshire to send on boats to the Argentine. The canny exiles sent us meat home in cans. Corned beef is still the favourite food of one of Jimmy’s daughters, and the other drank unpasteurised milk straight from the farm all her days.
We are Nithraid, and this land is where we bide; so we race the tide up our river to release the salty spirit of Coo.
Nithraid was conceived as a public artwork to activate the riverside in Dumfries during the summer of 2013, bringing new focus and drawing people down to celebrate the River Nith. Now in its third year, Dumfries is preparing to welcome sailors upriver to the heart of the town as Nithraid 2015 sails into town on Sunday, 2nd August. Nithraid is free and open to all, and last year saw crowds of 4,000 lining the banks to watch the winning boats cross the finish line. Find out more about this year’s Nithraid here.
The discussion is open, and we invite contributions to our artistic conversations. Whether you have been involved in Nithraid in previous years, are interested in the changing face of public art, or are curious about how a sailing race can also be an artwork, please get in touch via the comments box below. Alternatively, to send your contribution, please email [email protected].
THE OLD MEN TAKE THE SALT COW DOWN TO THE RIVER TO DRINK.
THE OLD WOMEN REMEMBER WHEN THE FIELDS WERE FULL OF SALT COWS.
THE YOUNG GIRLS WATCH AS THE BOYS LEAP OVER THE BACK OF THE SALT COW.
THE YOUNG MEN SADDLE THEIR SALT COWS IN PREPARATION FOR WAR.
THESE THINGS BEING SO, CAESAR SET OUT FOR THE LAND OF THE SALT COW.
Senes vaccam salsam ad flumen ut bibat ducent.
Aniculae quando vaccae salsae agros olim operiebant recordantur.
Puellae pueros qui super salsam vaccam salient vident.
Iuvenes parati bellum suscipere vaccas salsas sternent.
Caesar his rebus factis ad terram ubi vacca salsa habitat discessit.
Nithraid was conceived as a public artwork to activate the riverside in Dumfries during the summer of 2013, bringing new focus and drawing people down to celebrate the River Nith. Now in its third year, Dumfries is preparing to welcome sailors upriver to the heart of the town as Nithraid 2015 sails into town on Sunday, 2nd August. Nithraid is free and open to all, and last year saw crowds of 4,000 lining the banks to watch the winning boats cross the finish line. Find out more about this year’s Nithraid here.
The discussion is open, and we invite contributions to our artistic conversations. Whether you have been involved in Nithraid in previous years, are interested in the changing face of public art, or are curious about how a sailing race can also be an artwork, please get in touch via the comments box below. Alternatively, to send your contribution, please email [email protected].
Vacca! The strange case of the lost locative. The Cow, subject and object as symbol. After Bonum, and Beckett (ablative, or is it genitive?)
Vacca, (the)Cow nominative, Vacca, Oh, Cow, vocative, Vaccam, you cow, accusative, Vaccae, of (the)cow, genitive, Vaccae, to or for (the)cow, dative, Vacca, by, with, from, or in (the) cow, ablative
Remember that? Of course, it would have been Mensa, table, when we of a certain generation of the modern era were learning the first declensions; female gender singular. The Latin primer, being an expression of the late classical form, omitted the locative case of colloquial or early Latin. Ah, that hushed and subtle tongue.
Oh, the locative, (vocative case, denoted by Oh… as in: Oh, Caesar… or an exclamation mark, as in: Christ! Look at the time…) the locative! It must not be forgotten for it describes the rightness of place and the infinite distance of one location from another. It was reserved for speaking of small islands alone in the Mediterranean; no archipelagoes here, no chains of thought, no Peloponnese or Balearics, no reefs, no connections to the mainland by causeways impassable at high tide, or bridges or small ferry boats. No, and no barren rocks.
The locative speaks of being separate, of being appropriately self-contained, and it can refer to being in the earth, to death and burial, that is, to humiliation. Or, to being at home, at the hearth, focum, foc, and being in the field or fields, when that had some meaning. Specific, you see, to a state of being in place, self-sufficient, separate, discrete. If they had thought of it then, on line, on the net, would be a perfect locative; in a state of separateness described by the place—the net.
Being in a State of Grace? The Cow’s case: (genitive surely; the case of the Salted Cow, but…) Our cow’s argument is locative.
Oh, Locative, (vocative) You obsolete case; you last fragile threads of pre-classical illumination, Be exhumed in this ritual
And roar your bovine craving at us for the case we are losing from the locative field. But, pitiless grammar will not bring the bull. You shall die fallow, unfertilized In the shallows.
Cleave then, oh beast, With your split hoof and state your case, Standing up to your classical canons in it. After all, This is the sharp season of your atomized shit. Homunculus eyes focus on a darker green field. Yes, pump it out, boys. More shit, more grass, more beef, more milk, more shit, more grass, More gas, yes. More, more, more. That is our locus, our focum vivendi, our domicile, And we are such classical agrarians. It is the locative case of Shit.
Cow! (Vocative) You are sacrificial, you see? To the modus, (modo, to or for the way, dative case) to the modus, While the grammar of thought, the rules of understanding Are wiping this island from the charts. But some pre-classical urge, some visceral memory knows An identical ritual killing takes me too. Letting go so much for the sake of so it is a sacrifice alright, And we, in our improved datives, are sensible of thy gift, oh Cow, And preserve thee, black and leathery, from a hook somewhere We can no longer quite describe.
Salt beef, my life. Oh, holy shit.
Salt beef at Blum’s on the Whitechapel Road, And the long walk home through the pre-classical period When we were emergent, Or what passed for young, and understood where we were. But Blum’s, oh my dears, is gone. It was, not is And in its place, I leave my dybbuk. For we too are ephemera, Singing our hearts out In the locative case.
Nithraid was conceived as a public artwork to activate the riverside in Dumfries during the summer of 2013, bringing new focus and drawing people down to celebrate the River Nith. Now in its third year, Dumfries is preparing to welcome sailors upriver to the heart of the town as Nithraid 2015 sails into town on Sunday, 2nd August. Nithraid is free and open to all, and last year saw crowds of 4,000 lining the banks to watch the winning boats cross the finish line. Find out more about this year’s Nithraid here.
The discussion is open, and we invite contributions to our artistic conversations. Whether you have been involved in Nithraid in previous years, are interested in the changing face of public art, or are curious about how a sailing race can also be an artwork, please get in touch via the comments box below. Alternatively, to send your contribution, please email [email protected].
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