DAY THREE

DAY THREE
How you have longed for this exactly:
the impossibility of doing all things
That spring up like weeds in green places.

Absence of axes,
Only proper time,
Internal dark,
Absolute space.

Just your lamp on the snow
And things becoming slower,
And more generous in their infinity.

Yet still you put your back to the pole,
Face to the solstices
waiting for the light

upstairs, I wanted to film the chair sequence before people arrived. Then the director sat there for a meeting, but I left him in! Then I sat upside down in a chair for a while, there is something in it.

One of the lady’s from Monday was waiting with her book of art to have a cup of tea with me, and Claire Buckley turned up toe in the caravan but keys are mislaid, so started with that and missed the start of the dance class…

Will do Rowan’s instruction now
start at the top of the big stair and look out to sea
Descend the stair and leave the building, heading towards the beach
Go as far as you can towards the sea, or into it, turn and look at the building, focusing on the stair where you started
Consider the difference between the view of the sea with which you started and the view of the building with which you finished

at the top step

sea is a grey plate with ruffling edge
there is no horizon
no weather at all

walk to sea edge,
watch a line of black dots move straight along
become birds, then gone

horizon appears and the sea takes more colour
I drop my pen, its nib fills with sand
I undo it, blow through, need a wave to clear it

sea’s coming in fast
I stand on wet sand under the stones
everything is behind me

I let the sea come to my feet
move back, turn,
see the step I started from

the staircase becomes an eye
it’s downward swirl a slow helter skelter
spiral against time out to tidal time

I feel the waves at my ankles
the building its own long wave of white
that was my foot, cold

walk back to where I began
the horizon I saw has gone again
where I stood is underwater

the person who made this place
propels one to move towards the sea

the building wants to give me memories

———————————-

I have seen another Buddhist monk

I am back at the top of the stairs
the sea is uncovering where I was, I have waited a tide
first swimmer of the day
there is still a lost horizon
blotted out by light
will I walk the journey again?
I did

Alex has a French passport and French as a first language

a disquieting memory

a chap under the south staircase making noise with pottery and feedback , you could hear it everywhere, it was noise not music.

an amusing memory

watching Eden backflip from the stage onto the floor over the stage lift on his BMX

the nicest person he has worked with backstage is Henry Rollins, guy was a dude.

Watched the dance class, Winnie, Viv, Mo and others all wonderful and met with Natalie and Lucy to talk possibilities.

overheard ‘ people don’t know the difference between irony and coincidence’

I think of my Dad having tests in Brighton

On the top roof, I made images with the five sculptures,

low look through, C for me, skin to skin, hand through hole, curvy woman

and tried out the hiding place again

about the poem

internal dark,  worry for Dad

absolute space, sea and sky

and things become slower, I did one direction, slowly

and more generous in their infinity, sea tiding

back to the pole, hiding place

face to the solstice, sun leaving

waiting for the light, the most light of the day

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