photographic dogme 07

I will control the light

I will control the frame

I will control the subject

I will control the background

I will control the movement

I will control the time

I will control the grain

I will control the developer

I will control the light

I will control the colour

I will control the paper

I will control the chemistry

I will control the photograph

ping pong ping pong ping pong.......

To all the teachers who made me write this essay

Consider coming into existence inside a ping pong ball

You have no knowledge of anything else.

Left or right has no value as you always end up facing….well just facing nothing.

You have no sense of scale or size.

No fear of heights or looking down.

You wouldn’t know what it would to be to be out or in. your concept of outerism or innerism wouldn’t exist.

You can walk or run, or even stop or start, but consider having no starting point or finish? Each step being as insignificant as the last.

All ambition or aspiration swallowed up in a white fog of the abyss.

Would you go blind?

Would you know what colour is?

Would your eyes just simply stop seeing?

Would you keep them closed.

You would have no sense of pain or pleasure. Never being able to reach out, or touch.
Falling or tripping wouldn’t hurt, always landing in the same spot.

Have you ever considered how you would describe the horizon to someone how has never seen it before, a place where top meets bottom, you can always see it, you know its there but never being able to reach it. Never being able to visit.

Would you understand top and bottom.

To be deficient of senses, to experience sensory depuration, how would you think?

Without the pollutions of suggestion would your thoughts be pure?

To have sight but no view. Would your mind fill the void.

Any form of sensory depravation like blindness forces the other senses like hearing become more sensitive, better tuned in, stronger, functioning on a higher level, now consider all your senses deprived of there use. Would we become superhuman.

Would thought and reality become blurred?

Imagine the world you would curate!

Would your ball be your freedom to explore new levels of reality? And not your limitation or your prisoner?

Time and space freed to be controlled and shaped into anything, but by who?

Could you tell the difference between reality and a preconceived reality!

What is "real" could you be sure right now!

There's a thin line between madness and genius…..

Now ask yourself, what's it like in your ping pong ball?

MANIFESTO

List
Organize
Collect
Order
Arrange
Clarify
Classify
Quantify
Qualify
Explain
Confirm
Elucidate
Illuminate
Categorize
Systematize
Taxonomize
Manage
Control
Continue

100
Red,Toy, Research, Smart, Robot, Useless, Funny , Deep, Logo, Website, Business, Wood, Founding, Recycling , Stealing, Copyright, Aware, Re-edite, Noises, Chaos, Random, Bastard, Nasty, Naughty, Cartoon, Old, Cross, Crushed, Jesus, Plastic, Wall, Bitter, Black, White, Modified, Fast, Better, Brain, Nut, Name, Disgusting, Guitar, Unsay able, Forbidden, Tall, Alarm, Metal, Connections, Mass, Production, Advertising, Price, Dog, Duck, Mouse, Suggestion, Myths, Do, Undo, Manifesto, First, Donations, Post-it, Simple, Arguably, Irritating, Money, Numbers, Free, Productivem, Censure, Retro, Blur, Risks, Weapons, Fight, Colours, Ignorance, Market, Factory, Reader, Tape, Leodardo, Humor, Boundaries, Handmade, Dodgy, Innocence, Dark, Subvert, Lazy, Gun, Give-up, Chip, Administrator, Fairytale, Unacceptable, Rip off

50
Business, Cartoon, Noises, Chaos, Rip off, Useless, Funny, Toy, Market, Disgusting, Irritating, Money, Numbers, Modified, Fast, Unsay able, Connection, Handmade, Risks, Retro, Mass, Production, Advertising, Better, Brain, Recycling, Subvert, Smart, Jesus, Bastard, Re-edited, Aware, Wood, Founding, Deep, Fight, Ignorance, Colours, Website, Logo, Suggestion, Nasty, Give-up, Forbidden, Name, Myths, First, Arguably

10
Useless, Disgusting, Money, Modified, Risks, Advertising, Ignorance, Suggestion
Chaos, Connection

1
Suggestion

LEODARDO MANIFESTO

Leodardo are several trips.
Leodardo doesn’t know the final destinations.

Leodardo is the plinth and not the sculpture.
Leodardo doesn’t want to be categorized.
Leodardo is leodardo.

Leodardo believe in human beings, every body can be part of leodardo apart who doesn’t know Frankenstein junior by Mel Brooks.

Leodardo exists in real places (physical) for instance web space, and non-real places (non-physical space) such as ideas, concepts or opinions.

The web space is meant to be a documentation of what leodardo is doing.
Through the web site everybody from everywhere in every time can see what leodardo in making and leave a comment.
Leodardo doesn’t like all the comments… it likes only the sincere ones.

Leodardo likes technology…
Leodardo loves past, present and future.
For Leodardo technology doesn’t mean future.
Leodardo believes in Ready-made, recycling, transforming, and ripping off.

Have you ever heard the sound of a wax pipe organ made with a Chinese crap toy keyboard, glasses and engines… that may be Leodardo!

Leodardo is the gift you have never received for Christmas.

Leodardo is the mosquito in your soup.
Leodardo believes in art but food is much more important.
To make a good pasta is an art, to make good art may be just a fart. (And you can’t eat it).

Leodardo is the day Willy coyote will catch the peacock

Never, and I say never avoid the risk.

Leodardo believes that art is a trip.
Leodardo will not tell you where you have to go… just go.

manefesto 2007

We shall continue to voyage, amuse ourselves as fortuitous flanuers to
make myths,

spin tall tales,

textually visually

and orally.

We shall collect, hoard and investigate, disparate found objects, including books, photographs, fetish objects, comics, relics, mechanical diagrams, stories, personal and anonymous drawings and documents but not excluding any junk we find in the tip or on its way to the tip

With mixed media, including collage overlaying varying transparent and opaque materials, we will rip, tear and staple, glue, paint, draw, photograph, video, sculpt and screen print a multilayered narrative of confusing warbling pastiche.

We will maintain the fight for our fragile existence as artists and entertain magic and chance, explore the accidental and the unexpected, continuing an inquisitive struggle.

We will not give up until we become honorary members of the necronautical society or win the turner prize which ever comes first.

MY PAINTING MANIFESTO 2007

Yes, it is true that I am trying to paint something.
Yes, it is very true and often I get people to tell me or ask me that what is it about?
Or people just tell me that ‘ah, nice.’ Or ‘ that’s interesting.’ Or maybe he says ‘I like your work.’
And I say ‘ oh, thanks.’
Yes, it is true that I do not have a good answer for these kinds of questions or communications with others yet. Because I am still searching about my visual language there for communication element.

Visual language and how to read the language…
It is coming from your experience and knowledge I believe. And each of us will have different experiences when you get to touch with something new or different in front of us.
Judgement…
Also created by our knowledge and experience. I leave you for the judgement what you feel like when you need to make a judgement of my painting work because you have a different past experience and back ground from me.
Truth…
Is there always in front of me on the canvas. I do look and read what is there with my naked eye.
Circle, Rhythm, Curve, Lines, forms, and Infinity in the Space…

What could be infinity? And what could be infinity in the limited space?

Yes, it is true that I could carry on and on to produce ‘same kind’ of image paintings. However they are not the same for me because time passes always and time where I am now is different as a space. And feeling different, so on. However maybe for you it looks like the same perhaps. As I said before I leave this judgement for you to enjoy. And I am here for trying to develop my painting forms with other touch and excited to see the different results always.
Yes, it is true that I should record about my practice somehow. It is integral and I do not have them.
Yes, it is true that I am carrying on same kind of style of painting work from last year’s investigation at the moment. Which is good or bad? This is my choice to do this way in this time, because I see myself to carry on this way of practice is more challenging for me in this stage. And see what I can do more from it.
Yes, it is true that I am much more conscious about what I am doing now than before with paint and brush. This process is needed for sure to be sure and has a little control of my work.
Yes, it is true that now actually I want to have uncontrolled feelings and get lost in my painting also in the same time in the same space as a unity.

Yes, it is true that I am painting ‘something’ almost every single day. There is many problems occur and needs to be resolved in every each days.

Yes, why not to have an ambition!
Challenge to Possibility and Potentiality…always

‘Something’ is the form…
Forms assert that forms…by Plato, and I am hungry for possessing the most fundamental kind of reality.
‘Something’ is the all kind of energy for the creations… And power of strong will.

1m square white canvases and me with paints and brushes. I want to see myself in this relationship.
‘Something’ is therefore self reflection and understanding.

Yes, it is true that I am painting ‘something’ every single day.

Yes it is true that I am looking for ‘something’ more than beyond.

MANIFESTO FOR A CALMING ART


The idea that art should be disturbing, provocative and shocking, particularly to the middle classes of the western democracies, is outdated. Even a cursory knowledge of the current state of world affairs convinces that the last thing needed is provocation.



Produce art that has a soothing effect on society, a still small voice of calm amid the prevailing din.

Be more cheerful and recognise the bright side of life as suitable subject matter for difficult times.

Stop pushing on open doors and prodding unhealed wounds.

Shocking the middle class is counterproductive since it is they who usually start the revolutions.

Art to become a popular international medium of communication similar to music.Use modern internet marketing to build a ‘long tail’ sales model to widen the range available and the audience.

The way to address horror is obliquely.

Word count

Words and number of times included in 100 50 10 1

Accommodate



Action



Adjust
Adjust


Adopt



Amend



Analyse
Analyse
Analyse
Analyse


Appearance



Arrange
Arrange


Assemble
Assemble


Balance
Balance


Broaden



Chance



Change
`


City



Colours
Colours
Colours

Comment



Communicate
Communicate


Concept
Concept
Concept

Conclude



Consider
Consider


Construct
Construct


Consult



Contrast



Define
Define
Define

Depict



Design
Design


Discuss
Discuss


Display



Distribute



Diverse



Electronic



Encounter
Encounter


Environment
Environment


Evolve
Evolve


Experiment
Experiment
Experiment

Express



Familiarity



Focus
Focus


Grouping



Hue



Idea



Imagine
Imagine


Impact
Impact


Incomplete
Incomplete


Integrate
Integrate


Interpret
Interpret


Investigate
Investigate


Learn



Link



Location



Look
Look


Luck
Luck


Materials



Metaphor
Metaphor


Modern
Modern


Note



Observe



Openness



Optical



Order



Original
Original
Original

Ornament



Paint



Patience



Pattern
Pattern


Perception
Perception


Permutation
Permutation


Print



Project



Proportion
Proportion


Range
Range


Rearrange



Reason
Reason


Record



Reject
Reject
Reject

Reorganise
Reorganise


Represent
Represent


Research



Review



Revise
Revise
Revise

River



Select
Select
Select

Show
Show


Sources



Space
Space


Speed



Subjective
Subjective


Surprise
Surprise


Think
Think
Think

Time
Time


Transform
Transform


Transport



Treatment



Try
Try


Variation
Variation


Verbiage



Visit



Visual
Visual


Water



Work

MANIFESTO...
Maria-Lena Hedberg


I admit to the futile aspiration to change the world
and the narcissistic ambition to say
what hasn't been said before...

100-50-10-1

Enhanced, manipulated, derived, questioning, detrimental, confused, withholding, dimensional, communication, dream, fairytale, fantasy, imagination, diction, authorship, symbolism, mythology, chronological, historic, deep, myth, enchantment, fabrication, lie, romantic, traditional, probing, mystified, disorderly, preservation, release, accomplishment, thoughts, creation, articulation, expression, style, illusion, invention, significant, extraordinary, old, ancient, momentous, reverie, nightmare, hallucination, reality, aspiration, hope, desire, visualized, pleasure, ideal, joy, angry, fear, soul, psyche, character, habitual, accepted, established, interaction, transference, elemental, component, whimsy, castle, power, control, conscience, consequence, representation, cold, tone, warmth, ritual, forever, performance, predictable, routine, time, movement, stretch, era, generation, calculation, measurement, improvisation, achievement, good, evil, construction, concept, environmental, features, spirit, discourse, converse.

Enhanced, manipulated, derived, questioning, confused, communication, dream, imagination, diction, authorship, symbolism, mythology, articulation, expression, measurement, elemental, joy, angry, fear, soul, psyche, hallucination, ancient, reality, desire, visualized, whimsy, castle, ritual, preservation, myth, enchantment, lie, probing, habitual, spirit, discourse, interaction, conscience, features, improvisation, discourse, converse, measurement, predictable, dimensional, withholding, ancient, traditional, generation,

Enchantment, whimsy, predictable, ancient, expression, authorship, symbolism, mythology, communication, elemental,

Authorship

The In Between

We have been through the hours of night and day and seen all that there is to see of the sky. The importance of power and the right of every being to that power is the main belief of this group. In concordance we have come to these conclusions of life that should be observed by those important thoughts.

1. Members should keep an open mind.

2. Members must remember that the key to the in between is found in reading and feeling.

3. Members should take the opinion that all work must be realized in reality.

4. The member must understand that all work is not reality and therefore cannot be represented in it's true form, except in the in between moments.

5. The members can be seen at all times by other members and must be in communication on a consistent basis.

6. All members must remember that The In between reject the idea of God and all associated theories. They do not exists in the inner state and therefore are false truths and should be stricken from the record.

7. The other plane of existence should be seen in the members mind and observed at all times.

8. Members should understand that they have entered a new thought process and should believe in this so much that they would be prepared to give everything for it.

9. In creating work all members should always be prepared to destroy it and recreate it on the "other plane".

10. Reality is a subjective matter and is observed on an individual basis. The understanding of others work can therefore only be a paradoxical version and only guessed at.

In failing to do so the consequences are such that you will be stricken from the space and be taken from the space of power never to return so as not to corrupt it.

Manifesto

1.Explore time, change, metamorphosis and transience.

2.Understand why and how time changes us, physically and cognitively.

3.Use/ collect/ reproduce and manipulate objects that are left behind, metaphorically, conceptually and physically how we leave parts of ourselves behind through memory, ephemera, the imprint of life and the shells we eventually discard.

4.Document the passing of time, and the inevitability and importance of change.

5.Acknowledge the balance and fragility of an existence, and how change reminds us of this and reinforces it.

6.Investigate a place where a change occurs, e.g. within a chrysalis/cocoon, and regard them in another way from the typical association.

7.Be inspired by the structural form of an object; be able to manipulate and reconstruct/duplicate it.

ESTO-MAN-IF-MAN-ESTO-IF-ESTO-IF-MAN

(man-if-esto)


One eye open while the other open as well, both function in perfect harmony as the rest of the body almost reflects itself, within the symmetrical order. I will not concentrate on anything else till the time I feel like it.

Structure of the structure and selection of the selection, I did considered it in the past I might consider it back in the future, tomorrow for example.

Saussure and Barthes, I could rethink it back again.

I might change subject completely. Might not.

I shall go and have my coffee and cigarette than, and start progressing towards the future or reconsider temporality with the mixture of past, or actually link these three together if I feel like it.

You do whatever you like, I might get involved, however don’t have to. Depends how good the coffee is going to be.





(if-man-esto)


To Agnieszka and myself.
I’ll be truly and honestly supporting her till the point I won’t be able to breath any louder.





(esto-man-if)

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church of random. a first manifesto

 

                          CHURCH OF RANDOM.

                                          A FIRST MANIFESTO.

 

 

In the beginning, god created the heaven and the earth, and then he hung his paintings on the wall while he created the church of random.

      I.     The church believes all men/women are equal therefore, by default, all art, if considered is relevant.

    II.     Anyone can belong to the church of random providing there is a functional magnet in his or her moral compass.

  III.      The church declares that work can only be made after having devoured and digested the church ethos.

 IV.     The church ethos is final but other than that, there are no other absolutes.

   V.     All aesthetic creation whether concept or emotion driven will be tolerated if it contains the church ethos and a modicum of original thought. Pure therapy based drivel is an exception to this rule and will result in immediate crucifixion. The church does not hold with the stuckists on this point nor on the point regarding bad taste, as this is never acceptable even under the guise of art. The only stipulation to this is if work that has a negative physical impact on man, woman or creature (negative emotional and psychological impacts are acceptable and discretional where the recipient or subject is given the choice to take part or ingest said work)

 VI.      Only considered and deliberate mediocrity in creation will be tolerated.

VII.     Accidental creation of ‘bad art’ will result in immediate crucifixion n.b. Crucifixion will be waived if said art has any discernable merit.

VIII.     Only those with a basic understanding and appreciation of pythonesque conceptual humour shall be permitted to join.

 IX.     Aberrant thought and behaviour within one’s work will only be tolerated if conscious.

   X.     The wearing of artistic styles/concepts/movements as accessory or in response to trend will result in immediate and irreversible crucifixion.

 XI.     Attempts to challenge / subvert style/tradition and / or historical aesthetic in the art world for the sake of it, i.e. because one can and without ‘reasonable’ conceptual, emotional or political validation, will result in a minor infraction penalty i.e. time spent in stocks and pillories to consider, repent and atone.

XII.     The acolytes of the church will adhere to the ethos and within that continue to attempt to challenge themselves and why they make work and for whom the work is made. Cessation of this last clause requires that said acolyte immediately and without hesitation destroy the nonsense they have created and take their own life (thereby not afflicting ill conceived work or bad taste on the semi innocent populace.

 

               Laws invoked by Carlos Diaz, founder and only member of the church of random on this day, November 20^th. In the year of our lord   2007

Manifesto for my work

1.Exploring of ideas surrounding change, time, metamorphosis and transience. Changes happen during the course of everybody’s lives. I am looking at the way time passing changes us and how we think and act, and who we are.

2.What gets left behind. Metaphorically and conceptually, how we leave parts of ourselves behind, i.e. cast-offs of childhood in memories, things we throw away, move house, etc., and the shells we leave behind when we are no longer here. The imprint that life leaves, how it shapes people who know us, the concept of being left behind.

3. Passing of time, inevitability and importance of change. The feeling of how quickly time goes; the unstoppable nature of time; that some changes are inevitable and important to the course of life.

4. The balance and fragility of existence. The realisation that things can also change without warning and the way it changes our thinking, behaviour, etc. and the reminder of how fragile and uncertain an existence could be.

5. The place where a change takes place. Recently I have become more interested in specific parts of the extremely vast subject of metamorphosis and transience, and have focused on cocoons and chrysalis. I am interested in them as they are the place where a change happens, but they are also left behind, as a shell. They signify transition from one thing to another. I am also interested in the actual structure of something like cocoons, trying to create something which resembles them. I am inspired by the natural aspects of chrysalis and their shape; but also want to take something more from them than the way we typically see them and association with butterflies, and use them simply for the purpose of exploring change and metamorphosis. Also maybe being able to see change and these objects in another way.

6. Being able to recreate the objects that interest me in some way. As somebody who would like to be a sculptor, one thing that interests me particularly is being able to construct a form of structure which is aesthetically attractive and intriguing, in the way that I find things like cocoons etc. are.

100-50-10-1

100-50-10-1
Maria-Lena Hedberg

Inconsistent, contradictory, incompatible. Narrative, descriptive, chronicle, telling. Searching, sharp, inquiring, intent. Ugly, revolting, vile, menacing, spiteful, bad-tempered. Painterly, Anxiety, apprehension, uneasy. foreboding. Messy, confusion, confused. perplexity, all-over, Humour, facetious. Red. Angry, vexed, irascible. Misfit, Striving. Stuffy. Stubborn, obstinate, unyielding. Clumsy. Unintellectual, hesitated, uncertainty, vacillate, demur. Unsexy, dumb, honest, principled, virtuous, equitable. Naive, ingenuous, unsophisticated, credulous. Dissent, abjure. Flat, deflated. Sober, sedate, subdued, abstinent. Original. Personal, individual, particular. Political, Explanatory, expository. Abyss, gorge, chasm. Solipstic (believe the only thing that can be known to exist is the self) , empiricist (all knowledge depend on experience of the external world). Chunky. Uncompromised, Compromised, concede, prejudice, discredit. Doomed, destructive. Bad, contaminated, mischievous, villainous, depraved. Incorrect, erroneous, improper, inappropriate. Impasse, Humbug, impostor, deceit, flummery, baloney, gravity, subject.

Inconsistent, Narrative, descriptive, Searching, sharp, inquiring, intent. menacing, spiteful, Anxiety, apprehension, Messy, confused, all-over, Humour. Red. Angry, Misfit, Striving, Stubborn, obstinate, Clumsy. Unintellectual, hesitated, demur. Unsexy, dumb, honest, Naive, ingenuous, unsophisticated, credulous. Dissent, Flat, deflated, individual, Political, Explanatory, chasm. Solipstic, Uncompromised, Compromised,
destructive. mischievous, erroneous, improper, Humbug, impostor, flummery, Gravity.

Intent, Clumsy, Demur, Credulous, Flummery, Obstinate, Dissent, Unsexy, Deflated, Honest

Flummery

100-50-10-1

Subjective, objectifying, cold, distanced, loving, disparate, intolerant, crafted, tactile, flat, contextual, discovering, discussing, questioning, observational, disbelieving, open, closed, warm, incredulous, investigative, unfinished, beginning, comical, tongue-in-cheek, guilty, reprehensible, smug, cluttered, simple, irreverent, mocking, pretty, ugly, firm, emphatic, vague, irresolute, driven, concerned, inclusive, exclusive, excited, measuring, reassuring, ridiculous, confused, enigmatic, undecided, retrospective, fuzzy, precise, composed, conceived, expectant, realistic, personal, sly, proper, traditional, dysfunctional, contemporary, taxonomical, disjunctive, accessible, relevant, disapproving, visual, disidentifying, aesthetic, cross-cultural, self-referential, floating, fastidious, judging, relational, changeable, struggling, unresolved, inconclusive, exaggerated, popular, critical, time-based, descriptive, unhurried, laborious, excessive, controlled, literal, lateral, self-indulgent, self-gratifying, moveable, self-conscious, epistemic, disjointed, equivocal, deliberate, figurative



Subjective, objectifying, distanced, crafted, contextual, discovering, questioning, observational, investigative, emphatic, unfinished, tongue-in-cheek, smug, simple, irreverent, emphatic, measuring, ridiculous, confused, precise, proper, traditional, dysfunctional, taxonomical, disjunctive, relevant, disapproving, disidentifying, aesthetic, cross-cultural, self-referential, fastidious, relational, changeable, struggling, unresolved, inconclusive, exaggerated, critical, time-based, descriptive, laborious, controlled, self-indulgent, lateral, self-conscious, epistemic, equivocal, deliberate, figurative

Crafted, observational, investigative, tongue-in-cheek, traditional, taxonomical, self-referential, fastidious, time-based, epistemic

Taxonomical

fibonacci says...

space

I look inside and I see darkness, better still, I cannot see anything because it's dark... Wait! There is a faint light at the end of the tunnel! Furthermore, is that this space can be carried on from place to place, but we can't be part of it (we could if we were small people). I find it interesting that this space can actually fill into another space but never losse its identity of ever becoming something else rather than a space. I like it that way, it just lies around the place, apart from the occasional move. That must be its purpose in 'life', to stand there, occupying space and being a space itself, left to its own devices. I could throw it away, but that assuming thought in the back of my mind tells me that one day I might need it for something.

Aka, 'the unused long tube pipe lying arond the house'.

by Jones Tensini
October 2007

Approximate to the essence

100.50.10.1

100
self-portrait diary everyday record challenge power energy
style composition colour happening thought understanding incomprehensible habit chance system automatic conscious subconscious control conflict space distance relationship touch feel asking communication temperature dense complex simplicity empty nothing everything environment circumstance surrounding
distortion reality lie truth honesty trust ambiguity
curve straight twist line mark rhythm
time present past future will wish forevermore always message imagination
body mind remembrance lose find memory dream pitfall
gummy dryness wet emotion fantasy sensuality
circle backward up down rise fall fly
face substance search strike balance imbalance collage combination
mood tenderness roughness experience passage
desire spirit essence something

50
challenge search energy thought understanding honesty trust ambiguity
space relationship communication temperature
conscious control conflict complex
circle fly
composition colour chance system
circumstance distortion rhythm present past will wish forevermore message body mind find memory dream pitfall passage
emotion fantasy sensuality tenderness roughness experience
strike collage combination
desire essence something

10
pitfall space complex communication
essence control honesty relationship
challenge combination

1
essence

representation of my practice by the single word - artist text

Found space

They look a bit like fireworks... those trails you get when a huge rocket goes up in the air and the lights rain down...
They were only 3 quid from a market in Chiang Mai and they're glowing red and giving off those firework-like traces on the wall.
Even with the cooler offering from the green bulb in the angle poised lamp which faces upwards into the death-defying cheese plant... This is still a warm space, a cosy space... at least when the central heating's on.
Muddled, mixed up with remnants and memories yet each in its rightful place. Carefully positioned... the turquoise didgeridoo with the Mexican stetson perched on top.... it may look like a mess, but it's my mess and that warm glow is drawing me in....

100 50 10 1


100
metamorphosis time change transience cocoon epoch growing modification transition mutating alteration mutation transformation conversion revolution developing past emerge history butterfly chrysalis transpire existence shell remnant pupa different altered life emerging remains skulls Whiteread skeleton left-behind museum residue passing childhood natural appearance following footprints Hiorns horses hourglass feathers shedding stages juvenile process fragility brevity balance circular organic development Goldsworthy unwanted ending discarded ghost shadow inevitable inescapable Kapoor sculpture casing skin cast-off unstoppable visceral Isaacs casting replication reproduction mature fleeting evolution changing detaching paths relics remainder progressing plaster resin litter weaving latex identity debris waste shifting beauty memory clock façade beginning ageing

50
metamorphosis transience chrysalis transformation fragility brevity remnant emerge shedding balance organic inevitable skeleton discarded ghost shadow skin life appearance existence epoch brevity shell hourglass residue transition left behind developing past time unwanted stages debris cocoon skull casting emerging plaster paths relics past altered weaving ending unwanted Whiteread remnant identity detaching

10
transience fragility balance debris residue past changing time shell discarded

1
changing

Decide Yourself

Instead of going out with the specific state of mind to find space I decided to use space to find space. I did this by using shaped spaces as directions e.g. left – triangle, right- rectangle, straight- circle, turn around- square. I started off in Bank and along the way I discovered:-

Rectangular enclosed scaffolding

Circular band stand

Rectangular red and white striped tent

Triangular road cone

Rectangular plinth with Shakespeare on

Square entrance to dark alleyway

Rectangular red phone box

I ended up at a space that I could not access, this was not because it was physically blocked off but because it was the rectangular window of a gentlemen's club for the rich.

By Martin Clough

found space

In my room there is a space.
It is only small: 5 inches by 3 by 3.
It has been there since before me.
It is hidden within a brick wall,
Covered by a piece of wood.
I don’t know who made this space
I don’t know if it ever had a purpose.
I have never used it.

halt sign

So, I stopped on the end of lane…in the little corner of zebra

Pink, purple cheesy in the early dark sky
Moon was there with pearl-white

I was there with autumnal bittersweet…
Memories
And
I was there with fresh elastic private motion capsule

Confusion…or expectation…
In and out…I was there
Time… moment…
Passing me by

And I was there for a little moment to entertain a motion

I am with my black leather jacket
Temperature is just comfortable

Autumn…

I like that she said that word
And I can remember only this word that she said
And I don’t remember much more what she said

Because I stopped walking…
So I am travelling in different time scale

And
Keep walking and walk
And stop again
See the difference or not
Maybe one day…
Earth will be up turn in front of me

Seeking my space 20/10/07

Exploring a new place concentrating on senses and thoughts

My exploration began on Saturday at 6: 05 P.M. when I came out of London Bridge underground station. I was feeling unusually excited and with a great sense of adventure. I came right into Tooley street without a clue of where to go next.

I saw the Dungeon and thought perhaps I should explore it and went back to see if it was open. At the door was a young woman stirring a huge cauldron with some realistic pieces of meat hanging on the sides. I remembered that the carnivorous Nielsen’s saucepan was kept there, that and the sign of £19:99 entrance made me change my mind.

I crossed the street again and decided to follow the sound of bells ringing and arrived at Southwark Cathedral, beautiful building but it was closed. I continued my walk with the fresh breeze gently caressing my face and thought about seniority and the sense of freedom that has come with it. Then there was The Clink prison Museum. I could see prisoners through the windows on the basement and curiosity made me go in.

I read the horrors written on the boards and stood there… an acrid smell penetrated my throat; this was the smell of pain and dried up tears. I tried to read the darkened planks with many patterns telling me how much pain they had to witness with such fear.

There were many apparatus and tools for torture. There were also bridles for the women who complained chastity belts for the wives of jealous husbands or to protect themselves from rape.

I left the prison longing for deep breath and walked across the bridge to the side of the Thames admiring the clear sky the lights reflecting with the moonlight and on gaining my strength I thought St. Goodness in not 1510.!!!!

My Walk in Hampstead Heath to Kenwood House 06/10/07

I began my walk entering the Heath by the entrance at the bottom of South Hill Park it was two o’ clock in the afternoon.

My idea was to concentrate on my audio-visual senses first, but there were too many things to hear and to see that it was making the whole thing rather impossible. There were dogs and owners, parents with children, elderly and frail people with their friends, lovers in love and so on. I felt bothered by all these people and wished it wasn’t Saturday. Nevertheless I arrived at the first pond and found two mothers, one sitting on the bench feeding a baby and the other feeding the ducks with the help of a three year old girl.

I reflected on myself and felt nostalgic as memories of my own children came back. It seemed like yesterday but indeed time has somehow flown almost unnoticed.
I accelerated my steps in the hope to escape deeper into the woods, The roars of the cars on my left sounded as though they were coming through loudspeakers purposely to hurt my ears.

I felt desperately in need of quietness and decided to walk away from the visible paths. I went under the trees walking gently so as not to step on plants. My mind was calm and soothed until a loud voice not far from where I was began to speak on a mobile phone.

How inconsiderate I kept thinking and felt irritated, the conversation was now enhanced by a manic laughter. Once again I had to divert myself from my path, I reflected on the feeling… The feeling of invasion was intensified by a strong longing to hear the singing of the birds and sound of the woods.

At last there were no voices and I continued in the quest with heightened senses. There was a smell of wet wood, I stood for a while filling my lungs with the lovely fresh air, a childhood memory came. It was the visits to my godmother’s house through the shortcut by the brook and under the dripping trees. I then began to visualise the monsters I use to imagined coming out from under the cave wearing heavy coats of dark green moss. Or the phantom branches with arachnid fingers that would seize me up into the hollow tree and would keep me there, waiting for amoreme.

Suddenly a black crow landed heavily about two metres from where I was standing and begun to peck on the floor, as it lifted its beak up I realised it was eating a worm. How horrid I thought, and then I heard my mother’s warning,” do not fall asleep in the woods, crows belong to the devil.” I stayed with that thought for a moment feeling silly and uneasy. I’m NOT superstitious I thought, but nevertheless I walked away from the crow feeling eerie.

I arrived at a clearing and stood listening and observing. On the tree behind me I could hear crackling noises, looking up I counted five squirrels hanging upside down eating the sycamore seeds. I watched their agility with fascination, slowly I became aware of the tweeting of the birds, the croak of the frogs, zzzchzz of the crickets and the loud sqwaaack if the crows, I was safe!

Back into the woods again I could see many shapes and silhouettes, some of animals others of phoney people. I found a tree with a thick branch hanging very low and my instinct was to sit on it. It felt comfortable and looking around I saw a slope with brown grass on the top resembling the shape of a lazy lion with sad face. I thought about my reasons for finding the lion sad. Close to it was a fallen tree and had some branches chopped off, the remaining trunk resembled a large woman carrying a sack of potatoes.

At last I arrived at the green grass of Kenwood House and I went to find a Henry Moore sculpture that I had seen before, to my surprise it wasn’t there, I felt disappointed, at least there was a Barbara Hepworth, Good but not the same!

On my way back I just walked fast but wherever I looked I could see all sorts of figures and patterns.

By this time, the pond was less crowded and I sat down to look at how the weak afternoon sun was hitting the magnificent yellow, green and brown trees at the other side of the pond. The shade rested on the water transforming the colours into a yellow and aquamarine fashion cavalcade. Emerging through the middle came marching in a couple of black ducks with bright white beaks resembling two men wearing tuxedoes.
On my side of the pond I watched without blinking the ripples and waves of the water, slowly they became large translucent space crafts with me inside cruising the galaxies. Somewhere in outer space my stomach rumbled, I realised I hadn’t eaten, I landed my craft and went home

TRILOGY OF MY DARK SPACES

BLACK HOLE

There is a place in space,
which is also a space
of contents unknown,
to me at least.
And in this space, in space,
is a space, of no space.
The only things,
which could prove that
this space,
is in space, is
its colour,
which is non colour,
and its shape,
which is non shape.


DARK ROOM

This dark, small place is a room,
which releases in me, my deepest fears.
I have memorised its shape,
but every time I go there,
I loose my sense of direction.
I'm standing ther, surrounded by darkness
and a few minutes there,
can feel to me like eternity.


DARK PLACE IN MY MIND

There is a place in my head,
in which I keep dark thoughts.
Those thoughts, are about a bad man,
who stole my sisters smile and soul.
I wish in my dark thoughts,
about him disappearring for ever.
Forgotten by everybody,
sucked in to the black space.
I wish him to be band, from
existance for eternity.
I visit this place in my mind a lot,
and it makes me sad.

WALK IN A GARDEN

I turned the handle to the garden doors, and I pulled them open.
Crisp air hit my face, fresh breeze messed up my hair and it stick to my lipgloss.
I took deep breaths and I stepped out in to the garden.
Most of it was in the shade, but a small part was splashed with the yellow autumn sun.
I quickly moved towards that lovely, sunny corner.
I felt the warm sun on my cheeks and neck, which was nice.
The ground was wet after the morning rain and it had that earthy, heavy smell...

BREAD
MILK
OLIVE OIL
KOSTKA OXO
BROKULY
TOILET PAPER
WASHING-UP LIQUID
ZIEMNIAKI

....I think that's it.

I started to walk slowly around the garden, the sun was gone.
I felt goosebumps on my arms.
The noise from the street was coming to me more clearly from this part of the garden.

Almost forgot about that...

THREE PEPPERS (must be red)
TWO CAN TOMATOES
SOUR CREAM (duzy)
CHILIES

...that's for my soup recipe, it is going to be yummy.

I heard the "pianoman" playing, I thought it was time to go to the shop, to do my groceries.
I turned the handle to the garden doors, and I locked them.

My walk in Hampstead Heath to Kenwood House

My walk in Hampstead
Heath to Kenwood House
Saturday 6th of October 2007

I began my walk entering the Heath by the entrance at the bottom of South Hill Park it was two o’ clock in the afternoon.

My idea was to concentrate on my audio-visual senses first, but there were too many things to hear and to see that it was making the whole thing rather impossible. There were dogs and owners, parents with children, elderly and frail people with their friends, lovers in love and so on. I felt bothered by all these people and wished it wasn’t Saturday. Nevertheless I arrived at the first pond and found two mothers, one sitting on the bench feeding a baby and the other feeding the ducks with the help of a three year old girl.

I reflected on myself and felt nostalgic as memories of my own children came back. It seemed like yesterday but indeed time has somehow flown almost unnoticed.
I accelerated my steps in the hope to escape deeper into the woods, The roars of the cars on my left sounded as though they were coming through loudspeakers purposely to hurt my ears.

I felt desperately in need of quietness and decided to walk away from the visible paths. I went under the trees walking gently so as not to step on plants. My mind was calm and soothed until a loud voice not far from where I was began to speak on a mobile phone.

How inconsiderate I kept thinking and felt irritated, the conversation was now enhanced by a manic laughter. Once again I had to divert myself from my path, I reflected on the feeling… The feeling of invasion was intensified by a strong longing to hear the singing of the birds and sound of the woods.

At last there were no voices and I continued in the quest with heightened senses. There was a smell of wet wood, I stood for a while filling my lungs with the lovely fresh air, a childhood memory came. It was the visits to my godmother’s house through the shortcut by the brook and under the dripping trees. I then began to visualise the monsters I use to imagined coming out from under the cave wearing heavy coats of dark green moss. Or the phantom branches with arachnid fingers that would seize me up into the hollow tree and would keep me there, waiting for amoreme.

Suddenly a black crow landed heavily about two metres from where I was standing and begun to peck on the floor, as it lifted its beak up I realised it was eating a worm. How horrid I thought, and then I heard my mother’s warning,” do not fall asleep in the woods, crows belong to the devil.” I stayed with that thought for a moment feeling silly and uneasy. I’m NOT superstitious I thought, but nevertheless I walked away from the crow feeling eerie.

I arrived at a clearing and stood listening and observing. On the tree behind me I could hear crackling noises, looking up I counted five squirrels hanging upside down eating the sycamore seeds. I watched their agility with fascination, slowly I became aware of the tweeting of the birds, the croak of the frogs, zzzchzz of the crickets and the loud sqwaaack if the crows, I was safe!

Back into the woods again I could see many shapes and silhouettes, some of animals others of phoney people. I found a tree with a thick branch hanging very low and my instinct was to sit on it. It felt comfortable and looking around I saw a slope with brown grass on the top resembling the shape of a lazy lion with sad face. I thought about my reasons for finding the lion sad. Close to it was a fallen tree and had some branches chopped off, the remaining trunk resembled a large woman carrying a sack of potatoes.

At last I arrived at the green grass of Kenwood House and I went to find a Henry Moore sculpture that I had seen before, to my surprise it wasn’t there, I felt disappointed, at least there was a Barbara Hepworth, Good but not the same!

On my way back I just walked fast but wherever I looked I could see all sorts of figures and patterns.

By this time, the pond was less crowded and I sat down to look at how the weak afternoon sun was hitting the magnificent yellow, green and brown trees at the other side of the pond. The shade rested on the water transforming the colours into a yellow and aquamarine fashion cavalcade. Emerging through the middle came marching in a couple of black ducks with bright white beaks resembling two men wearing tuxedoes.

On my side of the pond I watched without blinking the ripples and waves of the water, slowly they became large translucent space crafts with me inside cruising the galaxies. Somewhere in outer space my stomach rumbled, I realised I hadn’t eaten, I landed my craft and went home.

NO UNAUTHORISED ACCESS BICYCLES CHAINED TO THESE RAILINGS WILL BE REMOVED SLOW Resident permit holders only Mon – Sat 8.30 pm – 10.00 pm KEEP DOGS ON LEAD Please help keep the gardens clean and attractive by observing the following NO PIGEON FEEDING DOGS ON A LEAD ONLY NO CYCLING Public Open Spaces byelaws DO NOT FEED THE PIGEONS Pay and Display 4 hours maximum Return prohibited within 1 hour PAY HERE No change given GIVE WAY LOOK LEFT PLEASE NOTE: This is a standing area ONLY Thank you for your cooperation Please help us show respect for our neighbours by leaving QUIETLY Thank you NO SMOKING STOP Keep clear Exit from emergency escape route TO ALL DRIVERS PLEASE SWITCH OFF ALL MOTORS ON ARRIVAL TO KEEP NOISE DISTURBANCE TO A MINIMUM

It is highly unusual to discover an empty cupboard in a family home but I have done so. A cube with thirty centimetre length sides, forming part of a black wooden unit standing against the wall behind the television set, it is not inaccessible rather overlooked. Drifts of dust inside reveal how long it has existed in this semi-secret state. Its dark emptiness, when nearby storage furniture is filled to capacity, is inviting in a way but also manages to project an unwillingness to surrender the identifying characteristic of its clandestine existence. How long has it avoided detection in a busy household? I have no idea. How long will it survive now that I am aware of it? I have no idea of that either.

Window Seat Screen

Window seat screen
Landscape slicking by
Hazy green blur and miserable sky
Streaks of distant towns
Split second stations
Drops of rain dragging across the pane
Green lino
Squinty lights and green seats
Window open, air whistling in
Still makes me jump when another train snaps by
Crammed in like sardines
Stuffy and humid
Personal space invaded
Finally juddering, slowing
Screeching into darkness
Criss-crossing silvery lines
And spheres of white light
Stepping into the sharp air

Walking in the Rain

The trouble with glasses is they are so bad in the rain.

Tonight’s rain was that fine rain that speckles and spritzes against your face. Fine - so it’s a form of moisturiser for the skin except moisturiser is better.

Here’s the problem though - you may need specs to see - but in the rain they cloud over and (far from helping) they dim your vision.

I’m a fundraiser for Amnesty and that means I’m a streetwalker – not a hooker you understand - but I still walk the streets. I knock on doors and raise funds.

So I set out tonight knowing I’d get wet. It rains - you get wet.

It helps to do my job with a light heart and a smile on my face. I’m friendly – but when it rains like this, supporters don’t want to come to the door. I guess they don’t want to get wet either.
Tonight the streets and the pavements had that sheen – they were slick with moisture.
The night had gathered early and spread a cloak of darkness before its proper time. A gloomy Hitchcock film noir kind of darkness.

There’s rain and then there’s rain. As I grew up I was told that the Eskimos, now called the Inuit, have a zillion words for snow but we just call rain “rain.” Actually we also call rain by storm and drizzle and mist and showers. But I don’t have the language to describe this fine misty drizzle that permeates and wets everything. A constant, unremitting sadness that falls softly from the sky and makes London such a dark and shiny place.

This rain isn’t isolated or local or patchy or scattered or sporadic. It isn’t a shower (anyway what is a shower – when it rains it rains. If you are in a shower it’s raining.) No this is consistent.
As I walked I could feel and smell the rain and see the haloes of light around the streetlights. A fizzing of the light around the bulbs – some yellow some white. I could also hear the difference the rain made deadening the traffic noises like a blanket of calm.

The rain has its own beauty but unsurprisingly tonight’s walk and tonight’s fundraising were not a great success.

We know the stillness will not last, but it lingers, stretching and tightening with anticipation. Suddenly the air is filled with sound. The sound is relentless, dense, almost touchable, it expands into every crevice, washing around the dark motionless walls and heads and shoulders.

Two thousand pairs of eyes gaze at the stage, lifted from the cavernous, wedge- shaped space by a pool of light. There, seven musicians sit in horseshoe formation, intently looking at their scores, but one of them, with his shoulders turned away from the mass of people, barely needs to look, because this score, this music, now resonating through everything and everyone, originated in his mind thirty years ago. With his whole body he nods to his musicians and they respond by gently leaning this way and that, and we, the audience, mirror that movement, like a forest softly swaying in the wind, and for four hours all of us are woven together within a cathedral of sound.

Afterwards, when all have left, the concert hall once more becomes a void, stark and bright, bereft of purpose.

Space A

Quick, Easy, Stick...
Integral 512 MB

Extra slim swan tips...
Sony Ericsson, Canon

Jvc Essentials
Word-tank C35
REF A4T

CD...Stop...
Panasonic

Month, Date, Casio...

Provisional Mark, Broad

White Bottom Half...40grams

Visit, Seminar, Presentation.....

Wish, Winter Break Event
...
Private and Confidential Time Line

Ernie Gehr film season

All Programmes will take place in the Starr Auditorium, Tate Modern.

Tate Modern
Bankside
London SE1 9TG

Book online, or call +44 (0)20 7887 8888

http://www.tate.org.uk


Since he first began making films in the regular 8mm format during the 1960s, Ernie Gehr has developed into one of the most singular artists in the cinematic avant-garde. Considered a filmmaker's filmmaker by peers and critics such as J. Hoberman and P. Adams Sitney, Gehr produces lucid, rigorous, radiant films and digital media works that address the fundamental qualities of film as film, and the anxieties of cinematic representation. Gehr is recognized as one of the great cinema poets of the city, and has consistently sought dynamic new relationships between space and perception through his examination of the urban field. This series of five programmes includes work ranging from his 1970 shock corridor masterpiece, Serene Velocity, to dynamic city films such as Side/Walk/Shuttle (1991), and his most recent work in digital video. Don’t miss this long overdue London survey of Gehr’s transformative films.

Friday 2 November 2007, 19.00
Programme One
Wait, USA 1968, 16mm, 7’
Table, USA 1976, 16mm, 16’
Field, USA 1970, 16mm, 9’
Mirage, USA 1981, 16mm, 10’
Serene Velocity, USA 1970, 35 mm, 23’

Saturday 3 November 2007, 15.00
Programme Two
Rear Window, 1991, 16mm, 10’
This Side of Paradise, USA 1991, 16mm, 15’
Passage, USA 2003, 16mm, 14’
Side/Walk/Shuttle, USA 1991, 16mm, 40’

Saturday 3 November, 19.00
Program Three
Glider, USA 2001, Digital Video, 37’
The Astronomer’s Dream, USA 2004, digital video, 15’
Before the Olympics, USA 2006, digital video 15’
Cinematic Fertilizer -- 1, USA 2007, digital video, 5’
Cinematic Fertilizer -- 2, USA 2007, digital video, 8’

Sunday 4 November, 15.00
Program Four
Reverberation, USA 1969, 16mm, 23’
Still, USA 1971, 16mm, 55’
Greene Street, USA 2004, digital video, 5’

Sunday 4 November, 17.30
Program Five
The Morse Code Operator (or The Monkey Wrench), USA 2006, digital video 25’
Cotton Candy, USA 2001, digital video, 54’

Leicester square...

A small space

An enclosed space…

It feels claustrophobic, even oppressive, maybe association?

It’s slightly oppressive despite it being a cubicle of functional, human space…

Should I say human function space?

Walls…

The two longest are one and a half metres

Back wall maybe one…

Opposite is the stall door

Some kind of cheap but durable laminate on its front

My nose awakes…

The smell of uric acid pervades and invades

Faeces splattered porcelain

Dripping taps and flushing cisterns

Never got that whole ‘meditation space’ thing…

Stall doors slam and punters leave

It’s still oppressive and dank

And reeks of its function

I have more hang-ups than I can shake a stick at.

 

 

 

 

 

signor louse

 As the gardenia woodlouse

 Trundled away towards the horizon,

 I suddenly realised

 That all my days of toil

 Had finally produced  a valid artistic fruit…

boris the spider

 

My paintbrush was attacked

By a very large and aggressive spider

He must have felt the vibrations of me painting

And went into automatic predator mode

Little did he know I was not a tiny fly sticking to the dinner plate of his lair

Instead, I was an enormous hairy thing of a paintbrush

Poking into the holes high on the scaffold at the front of the house

default...

I find myself a space by default.

A tunnel between Aldgate and tower hill.

We’ve been for the past 20 minutes.

As a space, I can honestly say that it is becoming claustrophobic.

Bizarrely enough, there is a signal for phones, which is quite annoying for me

but saying that I am probably annoying other people with the noise of my headphones blaring out the southpark I am watching. There are now three different people describing to abstract voices how they have been stuck on a train for 20 minutes and that they can see the station possibly 100 yards away. There are 18 people in the carriage, of which eleven are men. People are beginning to get aggravated and to puff and blow but my word doc and I, oh and my south park, are very content thank you very much. A woman is picking her nose (I really didn’t know they did that.) There is illegible graffiti scratched along the glass. You would think that if they were going to risk being arrested they would at least care about the aesthetic of the marks they make. Coughing and spluttering has become regular; as has the tapping of some annoying bastard on his laptop -I wonder if we could walk to the station? We’ve now been here for 40 minutes and I have to admit I am getting concerned. My emotional space is fraught with impatience and the nonsense of personal life and my physical space is claustrophobic but the two are somehow connected. People are starting to lose patience.. 5 people are on their phones now and agitation is beginning to overcome everyone, including myself. People cannot stand to be confined or have their routine interfered with…. They want to know what is happening but just knowing will change nothing, the fact remains we are stuck here. It is quite strange that trains are going one way but not the other. I am begin to wonder if someone hasn’t been platform, surfing. My stomach is killing me, as is my leg, but unfortunately I can’t put that down to my predicament. A couple of guys have begin to doze off and I must say the noise of the fluorescent lights ad the humming of the trains batteries is quite soporific. We have now been here for 50 minutes….mmmm monotony abounds…. there is a rogue hair atop the ‘s’ key of my laptop-really hope its mine and that it doesn’t belong to some skank. I’ve never really been a fan of people that put their feet up on the seats of public transport but maybe that’s an age thing. . As a physical space its nicer than my public toilet but only by default, in that, there are no bad smells or people trying to sell me drugs… finally, we have begun to move!

So after 50 minutes I was witness to something I quite like but don’t see that often which was the old ‘blitz spirit’. I have to say there is something quite appealing about Londoners when they decide to let down their barriers. People actually spoke to one another which is something I see so rarely these days… it must be nearer an hour and I am going back to watching southpark…

 

 

Cold boot and off

Type…

Password, enter

Type…

Bookmark, google, enter

Type…

Tate Britain and modern

Type…

A step past Duchamp and three points of Moore

Type…

And I saluted Breton at 6 paces Lefebvre des noettes

And on to three dancers

Type…

E la Quattro stagioni di Twombly

Type…

Up to the number fourteen

Type, type, type…

And ultimately on to the three judges.

 

Between the eye and the eye lid.

The space, which I found is very tight. It’s even hard to call it a space. It almost doesn’t physically exist. It divides things in two. To be more specific it is a boundary between two other different spaces. Possible that even more than two. Depends how we approach the subject. It defines the line between what’s physical and what doesn’t materially exist. It is the space, which divides what is already substantially structured, from something what might become a form. The space, which I found is really tight. It’s difficult to say if it’s a space really, in fact it’s only this almost non existing distance between the eye and the eyelid.

rigid fruiting bodies

mildew
honeydew
powdery mildew

Hegel
Kierkegaard
Notes from the Underground

cold
humid
damp

I Even Met Happy Gypsies (six copies)
Michel Gondry
Mirror

musty brown tufts.
slimy webwork of yellow threads,
yellow crust

Ivan’s Childhood
Fotografija
The Conflict of Interpretations

yellow blotches

in the mood for love
the seventh seal

mould in my nostrils.
warm humid damp in my clothes

the sacrifice

22 species of slime mould
and their Rigid Fruiting Bodies

Found Text

A little dark door, hidden quiet inconspicuously between two very high walls which hold great buildings.

This door is just big enough to let two people through.

Old, wooden and hinged with raught iron. As it swings open, there is a very long alleyway which feels quite encroached

There, at the very bottom, is exactly what I hadn’t been looking for. This building, in comparison to its surroundings looks very small, but it is not. It has stood here for years.

Though in great need of repair it has stood the test of time and in actual fact should be held as one of our greatest surviving monuments.

No-one seems to know that it is here, in this location, except for the church goers and the priest that preaches here.

Do you know where I am?

Grrrrrrr

Grrrrrrr

Pounding the pavement
To lighten the mood.
Five hours of frustration
Last night on the phone.
Broadband was promised,
All singing, all dancing
New Mac in place,
Hopes riding high.
Old cables untangled,
New connections connected,
Plugs in right sockets,
All gleaming and new.
Excitement is rising,
Geek Squad consulted,
Passwods and settings,
All systems on GO!

The router is faulty,
Connection has failed,
Replacement equipment,
In two weeks time.

Attempting a bypass.
Thow energy at it,
Off to phone warehouse,
To find a real person
Can't put me on 'hold'......

Pounding the pavement,
To lighten the mood.

gRRRRRRR

dead man walking

being the worst poet in the world My inspiration came from the ramblings of Bob Dylan and Jean Paul Sartre.

And I quote from the book of Nausea page 31, here he sees a women walking down the street late at night from his flat window and realises he can foresee the future, as he predicts her movements.

" I see the future. It is there, poised over the street, hardly more dim than the present. What advantage will accrue from this realisation?" he goes on to say " I don’t know where I am anymore; do I see her motions, or do I foresee them? This is time, time laid bare, coming slowly into existence, keeping us waiting."

Dead man walking

The sleep that stays in your eyes
The welcome mat which you says goodbye
The wind in your face
While listening to black lace
Keeping up the pace

The rules are made to be broken
But not when its so ken
I need to go straight.
Carpet right
Then eight till late
They say that two wrongs don’t make a right…
But three lefts do….
So I put that to the test its true

The bus stop queue
God I need the loo
I eat to much tiefoo
And always forget to chew.

24/7 booze
A women with big,
boots just round the corner
The red man, a goof and a toff
I do up my Mac for the section attack
The green man beeps a fact
God she has a nice,
racks of fruit and stacks of loot.

You snooze you loose.
I'm still full of booze and in bed
Without the women with the nice,
chest of draws i put on my smalls.
the ones with superman calls.

The Walk

We descend onto the path.. a GIVE WAY sign painted in huge white letters on the ground.. the cyclists career past and don’t look much like giving way – or is that directed at us?

Under the bridge.. a bricked-up doorway covered in graffiti, well... tags. Then we see into a window.. is it a gallery? There’s some sort of sculpture... a quick bunk up and I peer into what looks like someone’s bedroom – one of those run-down but probably hugely expensive warehouse flats...shabby, studenty and probably damp. Opposite are the really expensive new developments – ‘islington canalside apartments’ ....

Autumn leaves floating on the smelly, dirty, toxic water – you wouldn’t wanna fall in!

Banksy-esque art work on the rusty bridge.

Stop start stop start snap snap

A bin for dog shit – seems like people round here have actually used it – oh no there was that stuff we just managed to avoid earlier on...

A lost cat poster – “much loved, wearing a gold collar” and a photocopied picture but no description...

The canal boats – some odd-shaped ones I’ve never seen before.. wouldn’t fancy living on one though.. too narrow and damp (again).

A lone fisherman with a can of Holsten...

SLOW.. in big white letters on the ground... as the cyclists whizz past and we have to be careful we don’t fall in.. or trip up on one of those things you moor the boats to – what are they called anyway?

The canal reflected in a frosted window.. snap snap..

More graffiti.. and now the really posh houses whose gardens back onto the canal path. Incongruous hedges, gates and papyrus grasses – bet they have a few break-ins....

A ‘multi-grain’ hula hoops packet lying amongst the red autumn leaves..

The top of a bus just visible on the bridge..

Stop start stop start snap snap snap...

Kids playing in a council estate..

A street lamp reflected in the water..

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12(!) empty cans of Special Brew behind the bench underneath a huge brightly coloured piece of graffiti proclaiming – “HOPE”...

3 coots or are they moorhens diving in the water... a wagtail on a rooftop and 2 geese flying overhead....

A lost scrap of paper on the ground

“London Paddington 10 something

Newport Gwent 12.31

Hereford 13.54”

And finally up to the noisy road again to catch our bus home....