i Artist of the Month Tansy Lee Moir

Tansy Lee Moir

www.tansyleemoir.co.uk

Originally from Matlock in Derbyshire, Tansy studied Three-Dimensional Design at Manchester Metropolitan University. After working as a puppet-maker and performer, she moved to Edinburgh and now lives beside the Forth. Over the next 25 years, Tansy evolved a practice using art and creativity to support marginalized communities throughout Central Scotland. In 2008, she began to focus more fully on her drawing, setting up a studio in St. Margaret’s House, Edinburgh. In 2017, she moved to her purpose-built garden studio, where she now works full-time as an artist and educator. She is passionate about trees.

In 2015, she was commissioned by South Yorkshire Biodiversity Research Group to work on Tree Stories, a project examining tree carving and graffiti in the Peak District, funded by Arts Council England. In 2016-17 she was Artist-in-Residence at Howden Park Centre, Livingston, where she collaborated with poet and photographer Steve Smart to produce Drawing Breath, inspired by Calder Wood in West Lothian. Back at St. Margaret’s House in 2017, Tansy curated Grown Together— an exhibition of the tree-related work of twenty artists and makers. In 2018, she collaborated with fellow artist Anne Gilchrist to document Dalkeith Old Wood in Midlothian, with its nationally important collection of ancient Oaks. The study resulted in the publication of Dead Wood and New Leaves. A joint show, Out of the Wood, scheduled for NTS Drum Castle in 2020, was cancelled and subsequently shown online at Edinburgh Palette, where Tansy will be exhibiting again later this year. She is currently exhibiting at An Talla Solais, in Ullapool.

Tansy writes: My drawing trips to the woods are partly open-minded wanderings, partly focused foraging— and I’m always searching for trees that have a story to tell in their contorted forms, broken branches, or indecipherable graffiti. When I find a tree I want to draw, I slow right down, listen, walk around it, settle into tree-time, focus on the moment. Trees are constantly engaged in a dialogue with their surroundings— with the ground they grow in; the prevailing weather; the other plants, animals and people that live alongside them —and there are physical clues in their forms that provide a record of that dialogue.

Similarly, the process of drawing is one of dialogue— it’s a record of the moment of interaction between the artist and the subject; the eye and the tree; the hand, the paper and the mark-making tool. As John Berger says, a drawing of a tree is not just a tree, but ‘a tree being looked at’. I learned a respect and appreciation for wood as material from my wood-turner father, and I developed that through my degree and my own making practice, but writers and academics like Oliver Rackham, Richard Mabey and Ian Rotherham have taught me to look beyond the immediate appearance of trees, towards the historical and cultural stories their forms represent.

My latest series— Rivers of Oak (Cascade, Rapids, Undercurrent) —is inspired by the ancient Oaks of Dalkeith Old Wood, just south of Edinburgh. I was immediately struck by how their solid, sinuous forms seemed to flow, and by a powerful feeling of my being a short-lived creature amongst ancients. In the studio, I set out to capture the fluid movement in the way the trunks have grown, trying to transfer this slow dance onto the paper with a mixture of bold gestural

marks and subtle shifts in tone. The resulting drawings have an ethereal ambiguity, with a balance of boldness and delicacy set in white space— at once showing closely observed trees, watery forms, and expressive figures.

While I love the fluidity of Oak’s growth habit, I’m always drawn back to Beech, with its smooth-skinned bark and sinuous forms. Works from Beech trees often hint at the figure, and I draw with deliberate ambiguity; mingling the arboreal with the corporeal, so that its interpretation can be fluid.

Other works shown here include pieces from my ‘Veterans’ series, inspired by trees which show signs of aging— such as hollow trunks, fallen limbs, and dead wood. These drawings highlight the moving beauty of these old hangerson, celebrating their endurance and resilience, honestly observing the wounds and scars that tell their story. As survivors of damage, disease and decline, their slow-time suffering acts as a strange kind of comfort—this is the way life is.

You can find Tansy on IG, Twitter and Facebook: @tansyleemoir, or get in touch by mail@tansyleemoir.co.uk Images: Cover image Cascade 120 x 85cm Charcoal on Canson C à Grain paper 2020 Image 1, p. 7 The Artist in her Studio 2 Image 2, p. 13 Calder One Limbed Beech 78cm x 62cm Charcoal on Canson C à Grain paper 2020 Image 3, p. 19 Rapids 78cm x 62cm Charcoal on Canson C à Grain paper 2020 Image 4, p. 25 Tribe and Territory 87cm x 57cm Charcoal on Canson C à Grain paper 2015 Image 5, p. 37 Harestanes Rooted Beech 78cm x 62cm Charcoal on Canson C à Grain paper 2020 Image 6, p. 42 Undercurrent 78cm x 62cm Charcoal on Canson C à Grain paper 2020 Image 7, p. 48 Calder Hollow-Hearted Beech 86cm x 62cm Charcoal on Canson C à Grain paper 2016 Image 8, p. 51 As These Letters Grow, So Does Our Love 126cm x 77cm Charcoal on Canson C à Grain paper Image 9, p. 53 Beecraigs Beech 2 110cm x 72cm Charcoal on Canson C à Grain paper 2016

Old Man’s Beard (Usnea longissima)

Marianne Hughes, with illustration by Hazel Brady

When walking in woods and in mountains we may see many types of lichens clinging to trees and to rocks. What exactly are these plants? Lichens are a class unto themselves, existing as a relationship between an alga and a fungus. The alga (photobiont) can photosynthesize, thereby producing food (carbohydrates). The fungus (mycobiont) provides structure, minerals and water to the organism. Neither would be able to colonize the habitats in which they exist without the other. Each relationship creates a mini ecosystem and produces chemicals that differ from those produced by either of the original organisms. These chemicals hold unique medicinal properties.

There are about 17,000 species of lichen and 600 species of Usnea, in particular. They are very slow-growing, and very sensitive to pollution— they absorb toxic heavy metals. If you live in the Northern hemisphere, you may be familiar with the long, grey-green strands of members of Usnea spp., often seen hanging in orchards and forests. A key feature of Usnea longissima is that it feels stretchy— the inner core is like elastic. This is because it contains collagen. Collagen is the most plentiful protein in the human body; a building block of bones, skin, muscles, tendons and ligaments, that also helps our blood to clot. The word ‘collagen’ comes from the Greek kóila meaning ‘glue’. The polysaccharides in this inner cortex of the lichen contain immune-stimulating compounds.

There are many historical references to the medicinal uses of Usnea spp. Early Chinese herbalists recommended ‘Sun ho’ as an expectorant and, in powdered application, to heal external ulcers; Hippocrates recommended Usnea spp. for uterine complaints. Hobbs (1990) notes an extract of Usnea longissima effective in treating urinary tract infections and upper respiratory infections such as pneumonia, Strep throat and tuberculosis. Buhner (2012) lists Usnea spp. as one of four herbal antibiotics effective against MRSA. Indeed, since the 1980s, multidrug resistance caused by the overuse of synthetic antibiotics has led to increased interest in the antimicrobial actions of usnic acid. Usnic acid has proved active against mycobacteria and Gram-positive bacteria— including Streptococcus, Staphylococcus, Mycobacterium Tuberculosis —but not Gramnegative mycobacteria such as Salmonella or E. coli. As an antibiotic, then, it is less disruptive to our gut flora than broad-spectrum antibiotics. Usnic acid also appears effective in treating fungal infections such as Candida overgrowth, athlete’s foot, dandruff, ringworm and some vaginal infections. This month’s Chemistry Column explains more of the mechanisms behind this, and some of the limitations of isolating and concentrating usnic acid. As many of us know, herbal medicine is complex. The usnic acid component of the lichen is not water soluble, and must be extracted through a tincture. Industrially extracting and isolating one chemical to target a specific ailment often results in adverse side effects, since many of the complementary protective elements found within the whole plant are lost in such processes.

Next time you walk past an old stone wall or a tree trunk covered in lichen, give them a gentle stroke of gratitude for the invaluable role they play in our internal and external ecosystems. And, come the autumn, if you are tempted to pocket a little Old Man’s Beard, our good friends at Grass Roots Remedies recommend harvesting only from broken branches on a woodland floor.

References Buhner, S.H. (2012) Herbal Antibiotics: Natural Alternatives for Treating Drug-Resistant Bacteria, Storey Publishing Grassroots Remedies (2017) Herb Profile: Old Man’s Beard Lichen (accessed: www.grassrootsremedies.co.uk/2017/01/20/h erb-profile-old-mans-beard-lichen/ 18.11.20) Guo, L., et al. (2008) ‘Review of Usnic Acid and Usnea Barbata Toxicity’, in Journal of Environmental Science & Health, Part C: Environmental Carcinogenesis & Ecotoxicology Reviews (accessed: www.ncbi.nim.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5739 313/ 18.11.29) Hobbs, C. (1990) Usnea: The Herbal Antibiotic and other Medicinal Lichens, Botanical Press, Capitola, CA Purvis, W. (2010) Lichens, The Natural History Museum, London