Geraldine Hudson ‘Ritual as Resistance’

Today I attended a workshop by the artist Geraldine Hudson as part of the They Call Me Witch exhibition at the Crypt Gallery.

It’s a great exhibition, and I’ll go back to see it again on Tuesday.

Geraldine is a fine artist and longstanding magical practitioner . She has been featured at Trans States and created the Conjuring Creativity conference in Stockholm and London. I’ve been an admirer of her work for some time so it was great to have the opportunity to attend the workshop.

Geraldine works with Nature and natural materials in a nature centric feminist way. For years now she has been gathering clay from different potent sites across Britain, in particular sites associated with the misogynistic witch hunts of the C.17th.

Geraldine ushered a group of women into the atmospheric space (the crypt of an old church opposite Euston Station) and invited us to seat ourselves in the order of our Moon signs. Mine is Gemini.

At each place sat a white candle. In turns, we lit it and introduced ourselves. Geraldine then guided us into a meditation. My eyes fluttered and the lids slowly closed as her soothing voice invited me to envision my my feet rooted into the ground, descending past the stone floor and beneath the earth, into the layers and layers of London soil.

In my minds eye I saw my roots encountering moles and beetles and other subterranean creatures, many nameless and fleeting. The scent of mulched leaves and fungi floated past. Descending further, I saw bones, hair, shards, traces. The earth grew softer, spongier. I imagined a warm, almost metallic smell. then I realised that here, the earth is soaked in blood. Hot, living blood, mingled with the dark soil.

Normally I’m squeamish and this would horrify me but in this vision I welcomed the bloody loam, bathed in it, rejoiced in it. Plunging further, I reached a granite layer that I could not pass. It was smooth and possibly unbroken. I turned and, as guided by Geraldine, began the return to reality. As I passed again through the bloodied soil, I felt it cleanse and nourish me.

Eyes still closed I held out my hands as instructed, and Geraldine placed a wad of fresh clay into it.

I realised that I had not touched real clay since junior high school which was the only time I ever did any ceramic work I have tried air dry clay, but that doesn’t really have a very nice feeling texture. This clay was cool as I pressed it between my hands. It just felt so wonderful. It felt like I’ve been waiting for this but I didn’t know it. I really enjoyed the feeling of the clay as I very gently manipulated it between my hands. Geraldine asked us to make an object -keeping our eyes closed- an object that we could use as a votive offering in memory of the women who had been caught up in the witch hunts and been sacrificed. I felt myself slowly shaping a kind of bowl, just a small cup in the hollow of my hand. I took such pleasure in shaping it, feeling the clay, feeling it warm under my hand, imagining the imprint of the lines of my palm on the clay, the imprint of my fingertips The wholly unique pattern on my hand and finger. Eventually she asked us to place our offering object into the circle of candles.

When we opened our eyes, we saw a very beautiful array of objects each completely unique, yet each fashioned in the same way. We were really engaging with the elements, with the imagination , with our desire to reach back in time through the medium of clay.

I looked at my cup, this votive that I’d created largely through my unconscious but at the same time by consciously harnessing my will to the sensation of the body. The sheer pleasure of is touch something that I realise I don’t often reward myself with. I realise that I really enjoyed the connection with the clay and that the Act of doing this (an act that Geraldine described as sympathetic magic), by making this object and imbuing it with my own desire to connect with the women of the past and with the female principle (we might call the goddess principle) actually was giving the offering a kind of power. I really felt something strong from the whole experience. I took the candle home. I’ll use it. I’ll do some candle meditation with it.

I don’t know if the little clay bowl I made could be called art; on the other hand – why not call it art, in a sense? It’s all part of Geraldine’s own artwork; she is orchestrating the project, but inviting us to also participate in it – which is such a privilege.

Such a simple thing, some candles, some clay, some sympathy, some energy, some will, some guidance, some care and a huge amount of love

Geraldine Hudson