Here's our new blog! It is all very exciting. just finished work yesterday, so this afternoon am going to brainstorm some ideas for the show. will post them up in a bit........ talk soon.
Hello, the blog smells great - thanks for beginning its life. I like the fact that we're generating a proposal in the form of a question/answer forum of sorts.
Last night I went to a Film Archive screening: Town and Around, Wellington from 1900-1960. There was A Public Works Technical Featurette titled 'A Use for Refuse: Controlled Tipping.
Wellington was the first city to use controlled tipping in New Zealand- that is a Landfill. Landfills were seen as a “testament to man’s commonsense and hard work” or in other words “A memorial to man’s common sense”. Landfills meant that land could be extricated, filled in and arise used but steaming with potential. This land could be utilised for housing developments, recreational parks or advanced roading.
Supplies… The Genius Supplies… The Friend of the Genius Supplies… The Society of the Friends of the Geniuses
I see a tour rising up. The tour stems from the throat of a keynote speaker. The speaker collates a manual of appropriate podiums from which to make her address. The podiums are affixed to a large curving structure, as you would expect to see tools hung in a tool shed. There seems to be a consistent lack of attending audience or fans of the tour. This makes the speaker more passionate and more articulate. The range of podiums reflects the materiality of her concerns. She stands on upturned rubbish bins, inflated black bags, and piles of rubbish. The documentation of the tour is silent. Transcripts, either written or aural are collated and form the commonsense of the tour:
Ground falls to meet us; granted a crowd of people seen at the instant it turns inward –
That is what we came here for – beating of actual air – one hour and half.
The world cracks like a citizen forced into bone, disfigures company and raises atmosphere – like a
family forced to stand up in a tent – organs
deliberately get in a lift alone.
Shaft, the height of inhumanity and options – our eyes might crawl out or might already have survived.
You could say violent nothing is slender accident
that frank nothing detains at the hips of the stars, dust as it breaks its skin in water
a salted heart in its corner looks for something to wash itself down with
2 comments:
Rachel to Tom:
Hello, the blog smells great - thanks for beginning its life. I like the fact that we're generating a proposal in the form of a question/answer forum of sorts.
Last night I went to a Film Archive screening: Town and Around, Wellington from 1900-1960. There was A Public Works Technical Featurette titled 'A Use for Refuse: Controlled Tipping.
Wellington was the first city to use controlled tipping in New Zealand- that is a Landfill. Landfills were seen as a “testament to man’s commonsense and hard work” or in other words “A memorial to man’s common sense”. Landfills meant that land could be extricated, filled in and arise used but steaming with potential. This land could be utilised for housing developments, recreational parks or advanced roading.
Supplies… The Genius
Supplies… The Friend of the Genius
Supplies… The Society of the Friends of the Geniuses
I see a tour rising up. The tour stems from the throat of a keynote speaker. The speaker collates a manual of appropriate podiums from which to make her address. The podiums are affixed to a large curving structure, as you would expect to see tools hung in a tool shed. There seems to be a consistent lack of attending audience or fans of the tour. This makes the speaker more passionate and more articulate. The range of podiums reflects the materiality of her concerns. She stands on upturned rubbish bins, inflated black bags, and piles of rubbish. The documentation of the tour is silent. Transcripts, either written or aural are collated and form the commonsense of the tour:
Ground falls to meet us; granted
a crowd of people seen at the instant it turns inward –
That is what we came here for – beating
of actual air – one hour and half.
The world cracks like a citizen forced into bone,
disfigures company and raises atmosphere – like a
family forced to stand up in a tent – organs
deliberately get in a lift alone.
Shaft, the height of inhumanity
and options – our eyes might crawl out or might
already have survived.
You could say violent nothing
is slender accident
that frank nothing detains at the hips of the stars, dust as it
breaks its skin in water
a salted heart in its corner
looks for something to wash itself down with
listen, a condiment
no that's the applause.
The food tent awakens
To a draft.
sleep slender
but wide enough to edge sideways
slight curve
and breath to red
remains unfulstoppered
again
S
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