From this image (taken by Emma Starkey, www.emmastarkey.com) I have yesterday produced a film where by I drag a bench (made by myself out of a pallet.) Thinking about the recent plight of the Homeless that live upon our streets in Britain , the way they are moved on technically moved away from their place of safety (?) their home. I decided to make a Bench out of found material, this a pallet recycled into another use. The idea of the bench comes from the way the homeless are moved on, whenever I see a story of the local services moving people on I’d imagined them comfortable or curled up on a bench. They cannot move the bench, so in theory move home. I can move my bench, it is heavy and awkward to move, splinters cut into my hands, the wood scraped my arms.
I sat in front of the guild hall in Worcester to obtain a stark contrast of the seemingly prosperous building and the roughly mad pallet bench. in doing so parking the bench.
Another work in progress is my flour scripted piece I have decided that I shall not learn the script after re-reviewing my video I have come to decide that I like the manor in which the performance plays out when reading the script from the wall, it becomes spasmodic.
Here is the finished script.
(splits flour bag)
This flour! This flour!
Is my only friend.
But
I used it to my will, to make bread and cake!
It carried my daily diet,
I stand here preaching to myself.
It makes my stomach turn. Fading away into the wall on putrid piss filled streets.
I don’t know how many times I kissed the soul of boots.
It’s no joke
They have food, baths and a warm bed to sleep in at night.
I just get looks of disgust and distaste?
I respect them but, they walk through my home!
They don’t make me smile now. Are they sad about that? I don’t know.
Some may end up just like me some day.
What is man without a home? My territory is yours.
Degrading myself here asking for a light.
A fucking light
To ease the boredom of the day.
Can I have a match?
