Knitting and drugs

 

 

This morning our local church hosted the Community Keeping Active Christmas Luncheon*.   

For the luncheon I made a stack of salmon and cucumber sandwiches and carried them carefully up the steep hill to the church hall, I was a little late and the room was already buzzing with ladies in lavender twinsets arranging platters of quiche and sausage rolls. The men were all in properly smart suits with ties and Good Shoes. Here I learned quite a lot about the French and English yarn industries (genuinely fascinating) and  also more than I needed to know about badminton and exercise schedules.

After lunch  I went back down the hill, beyond my house and further on down until I arrived at the very glorious tattoo parlour where Frank, my current houseguest is working, I had been invited for a tour and was not going to turn down this educative opportunity. Frank used to be female, he has a lot of tattoos and  an impressive reputation for his work. He's not too keen on doing the sort of tattoos that people want him to do** but we all have to make a living.  Artwork was pinned up around each person's work station - someone was very keen on scenes depicting Egyptian sphinxes and Aztec gods overlooking landscapes of brightly coloured limbs climbing out of holes bearing bodily organs.

My afternoon learning was mainly about which drugs inspired what sort of artwork and also to be careful  about getting too popular for the work you do during the more transient phases of your life.

 

* I am currently living my life backwards: last week the church hosted the Community New Year Party  

**  wolves howling at psychedelic moons,  weeping faces ....

I live near a church

all of its altars, coffins, fonts etc. have been removed, it is a building pared down to stone walls, stained glass windows, a wooden floor and a high high ceiling.

Last night in the stripped church a Dutchman performed a show called Freeze.

On the centre of the wooden floor are eight knee-high mirrored glass cubes arranged in a circle. Around the cubes are stones, all kinds of shapes and sizes, some would fit in your palm, others are bigger than a big man's foot. The Dutchman stands upright in the circle. 

A body length away from the cubes are floor cushions for the audience.

A recorded voice delivers a measured narrative in a strong Dutch accent. While the voice talks the Dutchman inspects the stones, picks out one and places it with great deliberation on a cube. He finds another three or four and places them on other cubes. He then searches out a stone to pair with one of the first stones, he works at this pairing until he has made the two stones balance one on the other in a way that seemed impossible but now they have grown into each other.

The recorded voice stops, the Dutchman continues  around the cubes and the stones, placing stones together in pairs then threes, the concentration is immense and we are concentrating with him. When four stone totems are built, despite none of us moving a muscle - we are not even breathing - one of the totems  smashed down through the glass plinth. It was shocking and liberating.

Unconcerned he continued, occasionally gesturing to an audience member to pass a stone while he held a half-totem in balance. One woman stepped forward a little abruptly setting four totems smashing through their glass plinths.

It is a piece about being in the moment - it was mesmerising.

Nick Steur is touring this show



I went there with two girlfriends, we talked about the show a lot, then we talked about other things. One of the women has a husband who makes films she tells us that he now wants to write a book

He's worried about posterity, he says he wants to leave a mark

I don't want to leave a mark.