DAY ONE

entry

Natalie at the entrance , perhaps the person who has been here longest….

Chris with keys
Allan wiping windows

placed compass

taken to meeting room, set up.
There are books called NORTH being stored for the shop, what a great way to start

This body. My body. The politics of location.
Even to begin with my body I have to say from the outset that body had more than one identity. Maybe the centre of my universe.  Adrienne Rich

Day 1 Direction one
De La war Pavilion memory Piece for Clare
Walk down the stairs and remember the beauty of ‘On Fragile Stairs’
and perform three movements
Surprise
Wistful Sitting
Quickly ascending again

One wingbeat of the heart
can hold centuries
heights of third heaven
a stumble in a dream, a waking
lost in a small familiar field
within the sights of the lights of home  HD

Day
I sit on the step of ‘fragile stair’
I listen
long hum, heartbeat drum, the word ‘universe
no sea sound
recreated 5 images David photographed
I stayed on the stairs a long time, wistfully looking to sea, forehead on cold metal
I walked up and outside to the end of the balcony and there was one lone black shoe – whose, how did it get there, when? Cinderella appears again.
On the outside staircase I recreate the 5 images, think I will do this at each staircase in the building…

Fragile Stair
I place the photos on stairs and walk up and down among them
I slide the photos down the stair rail
scatter black and white cinderella’s on the floor
the black shoe
17 years later some other cinderella walks the steps, hard as the rock they are
someone’s laugh upstairs sounds like a sob

Bob descends and flies into space as the clock, as the book, as the twelve strikes
DNA’d into him

wistful thinking
my sons were 7 and 2 their worlds collapsed as mine did, emergency kit of poetry aching I tried to ascend when shattered
even hard materials become fragile
marble, steel, glass

this first direction sticks right to the heart of my memories of the building

roll on astroturf, walk barefoot the strip of grass in the broken circle, visit the sea, paddle in shoes then bare feet, black shoe too, can see top floor from knee deep in sea, come back to the 4 chairs at base of stairs become people sitting in chairs, there is an elderly man in the 5th, sun, paper on his lap, asleep, these added together would be centuries old.Walked slowly to the top holding outside bannister, going outside with eyes closed I attempt to walk around, I stumble, drop shoe. Inside I lean against the far wall as people earnestly photograph, the lure of geometry, weather, pattern, holding time, listen to rhythm on stairs, slow progress, click and fast, unsteady footsteps. Find a small familiar square lie down , hair over head back  turn sideways, listen again and see down all the floors. Walk slowly down thinking of beauty , step into medallion look up to the light, then stroke the minotaur’s cheek, so in the wrong place but prophetic.

ideas : run the shoe up the railing like the heels of Barbara Hepworth in seachange
throw and kick the shoe down. lying back head on step, legs knees together, use hands on railing, hover.

Astro tuf and poem
I lie listening to the ground, seen from many places, black on green, lie on my back
‘one wingbeat of the heart’ bring hands to centre of chest open/close, lire them ot sideways do one quick wings together and open, roll to listen to ground.
Went to sea, soaked my shoe and black shoe

MEETINGS
Chris, who gave me a key, Bob, Stuart and all in the office, don’t know their names.
Ade chose the first direction.

the group who meet every Monday at 10.30 am, who used to do the art class.
Memories of the building
Gill  the art class brought up things I had never thought.
Sylvia after my husband died I came here, looking at reflections opened me up
Barbara its like a home to me now, Penny a friend even married here
Michael Reflections became more and more interesting
Marion painting upstairs seascapes when stormy
2000 have an exhibition chosen by Caroline Collier, all were stuck to the wall, overtime they came back they fell, they kept falling off the wall.
Reflection, to reflect
There were plans for a lift shaft on the sea side, I wrote and said you can see Beachy Head reflected in the windows, no one had noticed.

The Caravan, met Glenys and Anne and visited.
Went into downstairs gallery
Angelina
here 4 years, thought building looked pompous and old fashioned and showed 30s/50s film, probably first time in was to take my sons to the toilet.
silly memory In the dark gallery upstairs, some ladies were giggling, the speakers came on, they jumped and I giggled from a chair , they were got!
I love the relic hand best.

Bob here 20 years
First saw it when he flew over in helicopters.
a nocturnal memory
late at night, locked up, no one else here, heard a voice, just Natalie and me, went to the first floor corridor – gone – as we approached there was a whistle, the tune of somebody whistling. There was nobody
Can a building hold a noise, can the wind make a noise like a whistle?

James
a lost memory
in the gallery invigilating, after one has got to know the exhibition, read all about it, been there alone for many hours I felt lost. I would practice how many ‘dolly’ steps( foot to end of foot) from the entrance to the back wall and then the width. There was one exhibition that was pitch black sometimes on a sunday morning in winter with no one for an hour I might nap , very lost! Felt like a prison guard and prison at same time. I lost it went mad, past it, went round in circles

Rowan
a silly memory
Iused to hate the entrance, hated the ‘ugly’ letters. Those letters have homes now.
I remember coming to a workshop with Ade, we had to bring something precious to us. I brought George, my bear, Ade brought his skateboard, I remember skateboarding in the bandstand with George in my back pocket. I remember swimming and dragging my wet towel into the ladies, now I get mad at people who do that! It all goes in a circle.

 

DAY 2

What we mostly do is neither so noble nor so difficult,
Making mechanical reductions of received light,
Our daily efforts rising like a dry noise,
Like so many frogs on a summer night
Picking apart the density of space
To discover, eventually, our own purpose:
More continuance than curiosity.

Always we find ourselves at the divergence
Of two paths, travelling out.
Otherwise , our questions
Would already have been answered.
Rebecca Elson

DIRECTION
Before the day find a chalk pebble with a round hole in it about 1 inch across and hide it in the building.
At 18.30 in the evening of 28th September run and retrieve it then go out onto the balcony where the cafe is, stand, face the sun, hold up the stone and calmly watch the sunset through it. You can take no photographs of the sun setting through it. If it is raining or cloudy still do it looking towards where the sun is setting. Careful with your eyes if it’s bright sunshine, blur them, or look through carefully with eyes half shut.
You can stop at 18.45. Hide the pebble again.

Victoria 3 August 2013
I need to go and find a chalk pebble
went to the beach
found a white shell with a hole and 3 white pebbles, will hide the shell.

find places to hide
lie all the orange chairs on their backs
see things differently
sit at the last table in last chair
hug the cold ceramic pillar arms behind my head
reflect inside and out

places to hide the hollow stoneshell
on chair tried to place it up in corner slice
behind stairs on inside edge
low on floor far edge
in between railing and wall
sequence, stairs, wall edge, corner, high
‘looking’ different from ‘listening’ yesterday

Is this building reflecting images with no depth, ourselves back to ourselves, pushing us out while allowing us in?
Is it hearing us? Taking our words and actions in, putting history in or is it reflecting it away? The question of whether buildings hold memories becomes harder. I know it holds my memories, and my father in 1935/6 the opening night, he fell through the plush flip up seats in the auditorium, but they are in me.
Knowing the letters from the old wording over the door exist in someone else’s home, a solid memory taken away.
that lovely thing that sea and sky does when asking nothing more indistinct horizon makes them indivisible
‘picking apart the density of space’
the hidden shellstone fell from its hiding place, I changed it, lucky I was still here, it can always go missing
seachange memories
lighthouse of the voice
slow swirl muffled,raw, muffled, raw
a white mac
slow woven encasing of fotheringale
hands dripping chalk tears
I seachanged
as lighthouse song continued

DAY ONE

entry

Natalie at the entrance , perhaps the person who has been here longest….

Steve with keys
Allan wiping windows

placed compass

taken to meeting room, set up.
There are books called NORTH being stored for the shop, what a great way to start

This body. My body. The politics of location.
Even to begin with my body I have to say from the outset that body had more than one identity. Maybe the centre of my universe.  Adrienne Rich

Day 1 Direction one
De La war Pavilion memory Piece for Clare
Walk down the stairs and remember the beauty of ‘On Fragile Stairs’
and perform three movements
Surprise
Wistful Sitting
Quickly ascending again

One wingbeat of the heart
can hold centuries
heights of third heaven
a stumble in a dream, a waking
lost in a small familiar field
within the sights of the lights of home  HD

Day
I sit on the step of ‘fragile stair’
I listen
long hum, heartbeat drum, the word ‘universe
no sea sound
recreated 5 images David photographed
I stayed on the stairs a long time, wistfully looking to sea, forehead on cold metal
I walked up and outside to the end of the balcony and there was one lone black shoe – whose, how did it get there, when? Cinderella appears again.
On the outside staircase I recreate the 5 images, think I will do this at each staircase in the building…

Fragile Stair
I place the photos on stairs and walk up and down among them
I slide the photos down the stair rail
scatter black and white cinderella’s on the floor
the black shoe
17 years later some other cinderella walks the steps, hard as the rock they are
someone’s laugh upstairs sounds like a sob

Bob descends and flies into space as the clock, as the book, as the twelve strikes
DNA’d into him

wistful thinking
my sons were 7 and 2 their worlds collapsed as mine did, emergency kit of poetry aching I tried to ascend when shattered
even hard materials become fragile
marble, steel, glass

this first direction sticks right to the heart of my memories of the building

roll on astroturf, walk barefoot the strip of grass in the broken circle, visit the sea, paddle in shoes then bare feet, black shoe too, can see top floor from knee deep in sea, come back to the 4 chairs at base of stairs become people sitting in chairs, there is an elderly man in the 5th, sun, paper on his lap, asleep, these added together would be centuries old.Walked slowly to the top holding outside bannister, going outside with eyes closed I attempt to walk around, I stumble, drop shoe. Inside I lean against the far wall as people earnestly photograph, the lure of geometry, weather, pattern, holding time, listen to rhythm on stairs, slow progress, click and fast, unsteady footsteps. Find a small familiar square lie down , hair over head back  turn sideways, listen again and see down all the floors. Walk slowly down thinking of beauty , step into medallion look up to the light, then stroke the minotaur’s cheek, so in the wrong place but prophetic.

ideas : run the shoe up the railing like the heels of Barbara Hepworth in seachange
throw and kick the shoe down. lying back head on step, legs knees together, use hands on railing, hover.

Astro tuf and poem
I lie listening to the ground, seen from many places, black on green, lie on my back
‘one wingbeat of the heart’ bring hands to centre of chest open/close, lire them ot sideways do one quick wings together and open, roll to listen to ground.
Went to sea, soaked my shoe and black shoe

MEETINGS
Chris, who gave me a key, Bob, Stuart and all in the office, don’t know their names.
Ade chose the first direction.

the group who meet every Monday at 10.30 am, who used to do the art class.
Memories of the building
Gill  the art class brought up things I had never thought.
Sylvia after my husband died I came here, looking at reflections opened me up
Barbara its like a home to me now, Penny a friend even married here
Michael Reflections became more and more interesting
Marion painting upstairs seascapes when stormy
200 have an exhibition chosen by Caroline Collier, all were stuck to the wall, overtime they came back they fell, they kept falling off the wall.
Reflection, to reflect
There were plans for a lift shaft on the sea side, I wrote and said you can see beauty Head reflected in the windows, no one had noticed.

The Caravan, met Glenys and Anne and visited.
Went into downstairs gallery
Angelina
here 4 years, thought building looked pompous and old fashioned and shoed 30s/50s film, probably first time in was to take my sons to the toilet.
silly memory In the dark gallery upstairs, some ladies were giggling, the speakers came on, they jumped and I giggled from a chair , they were got!
I love the relic hand best.

Bob here 20 years
First saw it when he flew over in helicopters.
a nocturnal memory
late at night, locked up, no one else here, heard a voice, Natalie went to the first floor corridor – gone – as we approached there was a whistle, the tune of somebody whistling. There was nobody
Can a building hold a noise, can the wind m

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