Thursday, 10 March 2011
Thursday, 4 November 2010
Front Crawl / Fluxus
Fluke / Franz Kafka
Flunk / Foucault
Frank / Forecourt
Feckless / Freakout
Flick / Funk / Fuckwit
Fruitcake / Frankly
Fecal / Frock coat
Flock / Fluctuate
Flack / Freckly
Folk / Fickle
Fried Kraut /
Sunday, 11 July 2010
Tuesday, 8 June 2010
Monday, 17 May 2010
kitchen in unit four, we debate the extra-terrestrial.
Between the piano and television, I muse
on the dust which settles on piano keys and the
dust falling through the air as it settles on broken
steps and children's faces in China's wartime capital of
In the rehearsal room, near Vincent's old stomping ground
the work gets done, opening shared wounds,
The work gets done, the dead rise from their watery graves
and walk on to the land. Possessions and exorcisms are
impromptu and happening wherever the people gather:
St Marks Square, the stadium in Pittsburgh,
London Bridge Coach Station, for example.
Monday, 12 April 2010
hang over in the sun shine with one shoe and the up turned chair by the rail way line and the garden shed where pete sleeps
Wednesday, 7 April 2010
Monday, 15 February 2010
(Timothy Taylor Gallery, February 2010)
Tuesday, 9 February 2010
Ticket stub from Norwich arts centre
T Kettle Bonus Card
Norfolk and Norwich business card
A whole garlic
A phone number (07752219228)
A photo of four women on Graduation Day, one has had her head cut out
A free party invite
A Receipt for FABULOUS WELSHCAKES
Sanisbury’s Waterloo – Receipt for bottled water and croissant
Receipt for Nationwide account, account number ending *************44288
LINDSEY HOPE PEARLMAN business card with glamorous headshot
CAFFE NERO reward card with one stamp on its way to a free coffee
Envelope with loads of phone numbers and addresses and this code: J89*XLFJ
A branded piece of paper from the Young Vic with the name Mark Rosenblatt written in red ink
New York Wallet Subway Map
No fit state Carnet Valid for 10 weeks
10 Nov – 19 Jan
Plastic bag for 3D glasses
Shopping list for making couscous (ONION,
The process of taking out everything from your pockets and bags and wallets
- dirty handkerchief, tampons, business cards, drugs in handbag
- train ticket to Cardiff
Maps people draw you when you’re somewhere strange. In which “DISTANCE IS MEASURED IN MINUTES” or by the landmarks. The pubs etc
Letter from Grandfather – “ The joy of life is in the struggle for what you want to achieve “ (He is a bad man)
Little pieces of paper
Master Key (do not copy)
(COINS) Change that’s worth something £ £ £ $ $ $ $
“you had a piece of garlic in your pocket…”
NICE to reflect on what you carry with you . A RUBBISH SHOW. A PIECE OF RUBBISH
Tickets, receipts, cards
Photograph of me as a baby, used for A THERAPY SESSION
How to survive? A shack in Suffolk.
The word IMMURE
Thoughts on abroad and on boundaries
Conscious awareness of only 7 things
How can we control the context around the objects in order to make everything beautiful?
HAT and FLAT
Melancholy= desire to change
Fear= Reluctance / Avoidance to act
Anger=Desire for clarity
Joy= desire to live
“ I think the very nature of Art is Affirmative, and in being so it reflects the laws and the evolution of the universe” (Barbara Hepworth)
“We are such stuff as dreams… etc”
El Huesped: In the wound there was something familiar and at the same time unknown
En la heirda habia algo familiar y al mismo tiempo irreconocible
SUBCONSCIOUS Keep things stowed away. Why> ? like atime capsule, a subconscious reminder. Waiting for them to reappear in your bag, your pockets, your notebook …
The phone card I WAS GOING TO USE TO CALL MY GIRLFRIEND IN AMERICA AFTER SHE HAD SLEPT WITH A WOMAN AND HAD SEX WITH MULTIPLE PEOPLE AT THE SAME TIME AT THE BURNING MAN. I NEVER USED IT.I NEVER CALLED HER. BECAUSE SHE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN WHAT I WANTED TO SAY
Monday, 18 January 2010
Monday, 4 January 2010
The marigold will sting you when
The foxglove guards the shed
and the greengage tree
whose sons all died from -
Only the lupin
with outdated frills
And maybe that's just cos
she grows over
Wednesday, 30 December 2009
tv is the only thing
that makes me cry.
what do you remember?
a time when we spoke freely?
when we marched in the streets?
i can see the picture in my mind's eye.
i do not think i felt new
why then should i feel old now
but for this tin can heart with a piece of string wrapped around it
and a stone tied at the other end?
where do we live again?
please, miss, where do i live?
the commuter train speeds past old graffitti on the tunnel walls
'get blair out'
lost in the smallest
in the smallest
leaves turning over and over every minute of the day
sun and wind hitting the honeysuckle
row of seeds drawing from the soil
lost shoe found on the balcony
the broken escalator at 4am
lost in the pipes
in the motherboards
in the storage facility (blank puzzle, endless mystery)
and the backroom
with the kettle
and the display box of cigars behind glass
please accept this gift
Tuesday, 22 December 2009
Did you drink the brandy?
Mum had a tipple
Dad, belligerent, refusing everything offered to him, trudging on in the snow
Denying: hot water bottle, brandy, chocolate, scarf, hat, gloves
Accepting: the walking cane brought back by my mother’s grandfather from Malaysia
The cane was grown from the ground up, straightened as it grew
Fastened to the top of the cane: an engraving in silver from the children of a school
On the edge of an old empire
Given in thanks
I see them in the distance
I flash the torch
Can’t remember how to signal SOS
What I mean instead: I am here. I recognise you. I have come to get you. I have walked out into the night and the snow to rescue you and bring you home. You are my parents. Hello.
Flash. Flash. Flash.
I flash the torch up into the branches, loaded with snow
The spare branches across the night sky are like fine gilded letters from an old, perhaps dead, universe
The sky itself, full of powder, glows with orange light, as the halo of light from an eclipsed star, as the aura around, or radiation from, all things
Only the electric glow of London and her M25
I hear the snow in the dark and it sounds like deer and foxes and wolves and all the old animals that slept or are sleeping where the white fell down, through trees, touching undergrowth, touching soil and skeleton leaf and fur and beak
Memory of the red horse pushing its nose deep into the thick blanket of soft snow, making broken tracks out of her desire for a fresh patch of grass, for something to curl under her tongue and teeth and chew
Walking from A
Walking from C
Meeting at B
Returning to A
ROAD CLOSED. POLICE SLOW
The road is ok. This stretch is ok. You can keep going. I’ve been walking half an hour and I’ve seen no accidents. This road is clear
Thanks. Funny night to take a walk, mate
I clutch the cane. I stab it deep into the snow
He clutches the cane. He walks more quickly and surely on this treacherous surface than he crosses the carpet in the living room
An argument later. Shut up. Don’t tell me to shut up
A phone call. Are you alive?
He walks in front
I take her arm, her shoes slip and slide
A hot plate of food, delivered two doors down
Like a petulant child
The concert was brilliant
He didn’t play the peace anthem
He didn’t play Home for Christmas
He played the B___ R___ though
Took me back twenty years.
House lights on
Tuesday, 15 December 2009
Everyone is busy.
A woman opens an avocado sandwich over her in-tray. It is full today. Each brown envelope contains a shard of glass. She spends the afternoon putting them together.
The thought frightened her.