Friday, November 4, 2011


In the process of applying for this festival:

looking back over past photographs.

Paris 2008

Thursday, September 29, 2011


working on proposal...

Its about making something personal. Making something particular to a place and a time. Its about learning and documenting the shape of a city. Its about walking and map-making. Its about performance and document. Its about editing and selecting. Its about turning left or right. Its about going with the flow or making a decision. Its about small journeys or big adventures. Its about stepping out of the house to go to the shop. Its about absorbing everything. Its about bring part of the big picture. Its about allowing the city to play out before you. Its about taking part. Its about seeing and being seen. Its about leaving a trace or being invisible. Its about what you notice and what you don’t. its about keeping hold of it. Its about saving and archiving. Its about lived experience and second hand information. Its about recognizing and its about remembering. Its about story telling. Its about walking for your health, for your sanity or just to see what it’s like over there. It’s about getting home, taking your shoes off and going to sleep. Its about being lonely and lost. Its about ecstatic freedom! It’s about travel, writing, alternative tourism, individual paths and the points where it crosses. Its about planning, architecture, cities. It’s about games, tasks and boredom. It is structure and it is drift. It is about me and where I have been. It ask about you, where were you? Where have you been? And that personal maps cross right here. It about imagining a red line trailing behind your every move, its about deciding to document your moves, its about how your moves then become performance and art.

Friday, September 16, 2011




Lines from my notebook, ready to be drawn together, to make a map:

some extracts:


leaving my hostel i interrogate this historical island, typically cobbled and hilly. i walk slowly due to a sprained ankle - and so adopt the flaneur easily. a boat is floating in a deep blue sky. it is quiet, i noticed this at the train station, stockholm is quiet and still, maybe it is the watery air. the stretches of murky grey churning under the sweeping bridges, motorways over water. The old town in an unbroken egg sgell, a tiny haven of what the world was, complete with currency converter and sweden jumpers, teamed with beautiful glass cuts hanging from trees. the bells ring out in canon. after the numerical bells comes a lullaby, a dinky ding dong from the cheery church. i walk straight across the island to find the edge very sharp, standing at the edge of the sea, the difference is immense. behind me warm lit streets full of bubbles in beer and wicker chairs. in front of me hills of nordic buildings wrapped around with train tracks and wide roads, the modern metropolis slaps the city down, but also makes it exciting opposed to slow paced nostalgia.


cranes swing gracefully like long necked dinosaurs across a blazing hot sky line.
they surround a red brick archaic building with point green tops turned green.
a constant blur of blue streaks over the bridges.
the city is moving, buses, trains, water, wind.
the stagnant islands pinned down in beautiful architecture.
i am baking in a lime green deck chair counting the planes that fly over head.


Mesmerized by the beacon of the national museum i sit by the water and wave at a fat man driving his fat boat. the light is fading so a gleam of warm red trickles in. crossing over tumbling kayaks and moody fisherman i reach a square. the street lights come on at 8.30pm and the exterior lights of a nearby theatre turn on at 9.45pm. greenhouse cafes with waitresses with curls and stars on their backs. men play oversized games of chess. across the water breeze chris Isaac's 'wicked game' reaches me, i imagine grabbing a stranger passionately and singing it to them in an over dramatic manner. i turn back and retrace my steps. i think about being wide eyed and over polite, accentuating my britishness as a defense mechanism. extra alert and constantly observing particular suspicious of unfamiliar territory. but i too can drink a whole bowl of fantastic hot chocolate and feel deliciously sick, wiping the sticky cream from my chin. a tourist is a strange animal, a nuisance, but finds a nook that they like, and as if a lovers shoulder, says' - this bit of you, this bit is perfect. 


in the north along a straight road 1950's america invades. a vintage car convention floods the road, greased hair and leather jackets, girls with fuscia curls and tattoo's on their shoulders. they lean out of the windows and throw beer cans on the cycle path. stockholm ticks, standing at the roundabout i arrive a clock shop, all tick tocks and irregular beats. in the evening the water is dark, i ask myself if today i will jump in, is it today? the day when i collapse into drift wood. Each year i feel my emotions become more erratic, it concerns me. this ticking city is getting to me, i feel dizzy but its just the boat thats swaying. a party boat lets out muffled disco beats, i imagine the sweaty drunken happiness, a disgusting conga line, all bending knees and crotches under bottoms, flailing arms and spilt bacardi. 


Teasing the joggers by the lake.
I sit with beer and cake, feet up on a wooden chair. 

Monday, November 2, 2009

exhibition bristol

44 WALKS an exhibition by Hannah Sullivan

44 walks is a project orginally based in PARIS investigating WALKING as an ARTS PRACTICE, the city as stimulation, and maps as art works.

ALL 44 WALKS 26x26" £200

WALK 1 BRISTOL 36x48" £200

NORTH TO SOUTH 24x36" £180

WALK 36 24x36" £180



Now in Bristol, I am in a point of discovery again – finding new routes and learning a new city. It becomes less about travel and seeking the estrangement required for creativity, it is now more about making a home. There are now points of comparison, between Paris and Bristol, and finding a way to communicate this idea of walking as an arts practice to Bristol, this exhibition is my first point of call.



For information about the project, purchasing the canvases or prints contact me on

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

walking in bristol

hello. blog update. i have moved to bristol and begun to revisit this material in relation to my new location.

are people in Bristol going to be interested in maps of Paris?
shall i do the same walks in Bristol?
should i compare the cities?

I have begun to write as i did in Paris, but the urge to map it has not occured yet.
I have a job. friends. a life. unlike Paris - my circumstances a different, it would feel forced to repeat the same processes.


It’s sunny in Victoria park today

I’ve got sandwiches in tin foil and water in a lucazade bottle

Its 14.55.

People are walking dogs or babies. Holding leads or pushing prams.

I came hear to watch them.

To spend some time in the sun.

To stop sneezing in my dusty house with rotten carpet and greasy sink water.

‘fuck you you horrible cunt’ he shout

the park becomes uneasy

he sprints down the hill for sprinting sake, his blue jacket billowing.

I have begun to collect these observations to make a zine for Spike Islands Artists book and zine fair (31st) - what the zines will look like i am unsure.

I have strategies for coping with a new place – with being lost in a new city


-       Find places inside (libraries/churches)

-       Look content

-       Avoid public transport

-       Spread errands out, be leisurely

-       Take up every ‘small talk’ opportunity

-       Find a small patches of grass


When we moved to Bristol there were pianos in the streets

I think i should walk with people...couchsurf people in paris walk with them. people in england...walk with them.

i get excited again now im writing about it.

I want the work to become about Bristol, as it was about Paris.


Sunday, April 26, 2009

44 walks map


featured in Annelies Puddy's bedroom;

Monday, March 30, 2009


3 till 6.45 STUDIO on the tiny pictures so they become big pictures...

featured in the exhibition: 
sunrise to sunset walk, mapped with red wool and blue tack across the floor and projected film.
3 SELECTED WALKS MAPPED IN RED WOOL fell into my holey boots, RED THREAD with the wheel left on the floor AND RED TAPE and the roll still hanging.
all 44 walks on an OHP.
maps, notes, sketches, photos produced over the project time period, as back drop for edited book; '44walks. an extract.'

next step...interaction!