london UK 2011
london UK 2011
rewriting distance / London July 2011
open to view of
more windows
and the open sky…
(high vibration)
brings reflection
back to body …
She touched gently
her skin,
the whole hand placed,
placing,
her skin reading her own palm.
She speaks out what
this touch amplifies
“you are/are not your body”
he/she loves me not,
A way to count, to remember
to wonder
out loud.
day one
a window that lets me see outside to an apartment bank of more windows with curtains, all of them white and a bit transparent … ( just now I move closer to a ledge and place this book on it so as to write with my forearm supported—a small desk) As I keep looking outside it appears … they appear. The horizontal lines. Like some kind of living graph paper, grey sales with blue; the blue of the sky so open and without grain, or graph, surrounds the building… then again … I find my eye attracted to the curtains in the windows, all white and sheer and suspended from identical curtain rods but all hanging differently. And so my eyes travel again … seeing a whole new landscape of difference. All these curtains seemingly the same at first glance become with a longer glance full of slightly different details. Drawing is like that. When first approaching anything your eyes grab the whole and as you sit longer in front of one thing the details appear, and appear and appear, just like this room; so empty and yet now so full of details that appear and disappear … both inside and outside its borders.
things discovered on the rewriting journey, both real and imagined
a coil of silver pearls
a goldfish
a fox reappears
a window that I can actually open, and actually close
a pond that is green and full of frogs
the reflective fold; falling differently, seeming the same until it is given attention
How to focus on a fold?
how it hangs, how it differs, how it
opens and closes, how behind the fold
there is always a hand, a heart, a fox,
a cat, a goldfish, maybe a volcano …
a splash of colour …
so let’s try the “ dive into the floor likes it’s a sky” technique
unravel the silver pearls
of the long chain
that opens and closes the blinds
and lets the spoon fall so perfectly
on the floor.
day two
It was the day of “only connect”. A wild and extended dance of how we can connect things, objects, people, places, one to the other as we ramble on together in a fabulous wandering conversation that organizes itself by how willing we are to listen and play and remember in relationship to one another and the room.
Day two writings
comfortable …
I go and sit on this ledge …
then think about the word
ledge
then
legible
then
“is my handwriting legible? …
( how can you tell?) …
how does this ledge relate to legible ?
the ledges of the letters
going up and down
and how an “h” becomes a small chair …
then back to this white
ledge,
my body finds it very
legible …
lets me ponder,
allows me to rest,
to let go,
to look out,
to take time,
to reacquaint myself with the room,
to admire the sun filtering through the window in front of me,
the fall of light in squares on the floor,
a graph of shadow on wood,
this street below
this sky above
this ledge between …
as I
turn around,
look to the sky,
and see a white jet go by
“ Begin in sync … in the same time …
the audience, and the performer ….”
D
day three
This was a day of miscommunication. And by this,
• The role of the audience, the witness, and the performer become more defined.
• the choice, and the play in the precision and timing of the entrance and the exit.
• able to hear, the choice of entering and exiting … feeling it arrive to you and choosing to listen.
• the beauty of a writing table, as a writing table.
• recognition and surprise as a way in for the audience
• shorter time frames that allow one cycle to be complete
• what is one cycle? Defining this.
• the recognition of what middle can mean
• the edges of the spectrum we are creating
• the colour purple
• a discussion of time and how to play it …it has various guises.
• in Greek they have seven words for love
day four
Once upon a time
there was a place with space,
and a woman
sitting at a table
with a lot of grace,
and a man
with his feet on the wall
who was
very
very
very
tall.
is from the Book Of La.
day five
thoughts
Finstock had, as a room, a mind/heart of its own,
the character and nature of what we did,
so exquisitely informed by the
sensuous nature of the place,
yet
the London Studio
(either 9 or 10)
still has a nature
although its
soul is much younger
it asks more of you,
the performer.
it asks you to embody
your own sensuousness,
and soul,
and to allow that to be framed by
its white and sleek atmosphere.
Words to capture and confuse time in a room
return to this spoon,
found by accident,
hidden
here
here
here
against the window ledge …
a small utensil
a practical object used for stirring,
for eating
…. small ….
a small spoonful …
fortune telling perhaps …
how bare this room felt …
like a table without anything on it
and then
in very small bits
the feast began …
(first course)
became
… strings of pearls …
small dots connecting us up one to the other …
(second course)
in space with grace
and the man
on the wall
who is
very
very
very
tall
(third course)
the windows,
the beautiful green
of the leaves from the street,
the other windows,
all the reflections
of this time together
her arms moving like there was wind,
like a willow,
a wind in the willow …
the flow of a pen and the
creation of the
Book Of La,
the table setting
re-arranging as the day
everything connected …
shoes,
a dress,
a belt,
pants,
everything a mess of cuisine and chaos and couture …
Dreams come true
in a studio next to you …
(dessert)
but giant
as he is tall
and it all
will fall into the studio
where
she did arrive
everyday
tumbling
out of her shoes,
and into the tiny book
he flew, his hands
delicate in descriptions
of how there was one
among them who
took care ….
who knew
this mother of mine
would appear again,
her way of ironing and folding
so full of impeccable detail
and
and
and
anyone care to tell
me the story of their stain?
well …
why not become a chocolate smear?
dear
dear
deer?
yes, well no
it was an elk actually,
that walked
that left
footprints on the side of the studio,
on the door
these tiny marks …
up and down
a mountain,
right to the top this time,
and
away we go
with our feet …
these small festivities
of magic
imprints into air
an invisible deliciousness …
a single spoon.
• the photos Michael took give us this
• our memory gives us this
• writing events down gives us this
• drawing gives us this
• talking and walking gives us this
• sharing gives us this
