As part of the run up to the hardcover release of my book, Walking as Artistic Practice (softcover comes out in April!), I’m going to be publishing some brief interviews with the various artists, authors, researchers, creatives, collectives, and platforms whose art practice, written material, or other works I cite and mention.

My fourth interview in this series is with Phil Smith, who is a writer, researcher and performer specialising in mythogeographies. With visual artist Helen Billinghurst he is a member of Crab & Bee. He is an Associate Professor (Reader) at the University of Plymouth.

EM: First, thank you for chatting with me about your work and writing, which I mention multiple times in the book. Here, I’d like to specifically focus on a mention of the concept of falling from your jointly authored book with Alyson Hallet, Walking Stumbling Limping Falling (2017), which I cite in chapter ten (Embodiment) in the subsection on “Falling.” How would you describe this text for people who might not be familiar with it?

PS: a dialogue which was a result of two walking artists discovering they were unable to walk – one due to a bad hip requiring surgery, the other due to a mysterious debilitating illness; and so rather than a planned series of walking experiments, we conducted a conversation around our very limited movements before recovery, musing on these temporary moderations of our wanderings and of other minor interruptions, falls, and so forth, and how they had affected our work and art.

EM: I know you have a lot of them, but I wonder what some of your most recent thoughts are on walking as artistic practice?

PS: that it is now so diverse that it no longer constitutes ‘a thing’ in a way that it probably did 20 years ago; if I detected anything coherent from the gathering at the 2019 ‘Walking’s New Movements’ conference in Plymouth it was that many walking artists’ were turning their attention to unhuman others.

EM: Can you tell us about any recent or upcoming projects you are excited about?

PS: I am conducting research in two areas: diagrammatical performances and eco-gothic fictions; I am in the early stages of the research, but hope to publish some findings towards the end of 2024; in the mean time I have published some provisional fictions:    https://www.triarchypress.net/silversnake.html

As part of the run up to the hardcover release of my book, Walking as Artistic Practice (softcover comes out in April!), I’m going to be publishing some brief interviews with the various artists, authors, researchers, creatives, collectives, and platforms whose art practice, written material, or other works I cite and mention.

My third interview in this series is with John Schuerman, who is a self-taught artist and independent curator. His aesthetic style and social consciousness formed as he grew up on a dairy farm in southern Wisconsin. He is an environmental, and documentary artist, exploring the physical, social, and psychic landscapes through drawing, video, photography, and walking-based art forms. His curatorial projects engage viewers on today’s most pressing issues: empathy, human overpopulation, gun violence, money, time, nationalism, identity, conflict, environmentalism, and abuses of power.

EM: First, thank you for chatting with me about your work, Precinct Perimeter (2020). I cite this piece in chapter two (Analyzing Walking Works) in the subsection on “Drawing and Painting.” How would you describe Precinct Perimeter for people who might not be familiar with it?

JS: In the summer of 2020, I was reeling from the murder of George Floyd, the riots and destruction across our city that followed, and my reckoning with America’s violent culture and systemic racism. I live near where Floyd was murdered, and not far from the 3 rd precinct that was destroyed along with most everything else in that vicinity. I walked almost daily as an artist to think, document what I experienced, and to come face to face with things as best I could, and then to examine my thoughts, complicity, activism, limits, etc. On this specific walk, I followed the perimeter of the 3 rd precinct (about 22 miles), I camped halfway around in a former homeless encampment, and filtered water from the lakes and streams –all public sources of water were shut down due to covid. I made the journey in 23 hours, which was just long enough to really feel the exposure of what was happening in our community and in my psyche which was struggling to make sense of things. I documented the experience with words, drawings, photos, maps, etc. often using arsonist ashes in the work.

EM: What are your thoughts on walking as artistic practice?

JS: First, I’d say there are several forms that walking-based art can take –performative, pilgrimage, ‘journalistic witnessing’, Investigative/documentary, etc. I explore all the forms I can think of and try to place myself in the center of things and report on that experience –what is happening in my head intellectually and psychically, and what I’m sensing physically. So, I’m not a distant observer. I am part of what’s happening, and my ‘voice’ comes from within the situation. Regardless of the walk’s form, I formulate questions before, during, and after the walks, but mostly during – and I consider the places I travel as mine, and ours: my/our city, my/our community, my/our mind, my/our Earth. As the artist, of course I choose what gets documented and I can only document that which I notice but my aim is to participate in the collective experience. If I can set it up so that another person could substitute themselves for me in the walk, that is ideal. My walking projects often tap into questions that already exist in the collective mind of our community. For example, gun violence or global warming, or the widening income gap.

EM:  Can you tell us about any recent or upcoming projects you are excited about?

JS: For the past year and a half, I’ve struggled with health issues that prevented me from walking at all, and it has been a very slow climb out of that –so getting back to the physicality of walking even short distances feels great and hopeful. I do have several walking projects in mind that I can’t stop thinking about, and when I’m ready, they will happen. For example, I want to walk the length of the Blue Line train in Minneapolis and document the culture/activity at each stop location. It has quite a range from quiet suburban shopping to areas largely populated by homeless people. I also want to do a walk of ‘ill-repute’, walking to several strip clubs in Minneapolis. These are places I’ve never been and know nothing about really, so it is time to know a little. Lastly, I will be virtually participating in a residency in Sweden this fall, I hope. I’m not well enough for travel, but the Residency hosts have invited me to participate virtually.

NOTE: John and I have a walking talk and workshop coming up Saturday, September 16, 2023 at 2-3pm at Viewpoint Gallery, 591 Hamline Ave N., Saint Paul, MN 55104 [FREE]

As part of the run up to the hardcover release of my book, Walking as Artistic Practice (softcover comes out in April!), I’m going to be publishing some brief interviews with the various artists, authors, researchers, creatives, collectives, and platforms whose art practice, written material, or other works I cite and mention.

My second interview in this series is with Meghan Moe Beitiks (she/they), who works with associations and disassociations of culture/nature/structure. She analyzes perceptions of ecology though the lenses of site, history, emotions, and her own body in order to produce work that examines relationships with the non-human. The work emerges as video, performance, installation, writing or photography depending on what arises from her process of research and improvisation.

EM: First, thank you for chatting with me about your writing, “End Notes,” in issue 26 of The Center for Sustainable Practice in the Arts. I cite your description of walking in chapter three (Observational Walking) in the subsection on “The Everyday.” You point out, “Walking is not always a beautiful, existential meditation on nature, wellness and place. It is sometimes long, boring, and painful, and those, too, are generative experiences.” How would you describe the context for this statement for people who might not be familiar with it?

MMB: As the Lead Editor of the CSPA Quarterly, I often take a moment in the “End Notes” of a given issue to reflect upon the content of an issue– in this case, Clare Qualmann’s “Walking” issue (Q26). These reflections often combine my own experience with the content of the issue– so in this quote I’m reflecting both on my own experiences of walking practices, and on the incredible collection of articles and artist contributions that Claire amassed, which include many honest accounts of walking experiences. I think it’s important as artists to embrace the power of discomfort– safely guiding audiences and participants through uncomfortable moments to new possible reflections.

EM: What are your thoughts on walking as artistic practice?

MMB: I think that within my lifetime it’s gone from an unidentified conceptual form to something that has its own genre. I think a lot of people appreciate an excuse for a good walk ;), but also that attentive walking has a reliable capacity to calm us and attune us to our surroundings.

EM: You are also an author and designer; can you tell us about any recent or upcoming projects you are excited about?

MMB: I published my own book last year, Performing Resilience for Systemic Pain, about performance, trauma, materiality and systems thinking. In future artistic projects I’m working a lot with mirrors and reflected sunlight. I just moved to Canada so I’m still acclimating to the community and trying to see how my design supports the dialogue here. I’m on instagram @culturenaturestructure if folks want to see what I’m up to 🙂