23/02/08
Today I woke stiff down one side but otherwise surprisingly fresh. I rode off to the gallery to show off my wounds. Sarah and Eva seemed keen to see my thigh but I decided that the arm was enough. I started to package up my black flags and gave Sarah a pack to test. Basically the idea is that you can use the flag to claim territory/discovery as long as no other black flags are in sight. I would love it to become some sort of extravagant team game with gangs of people trying to lay claim to parts of Bedford and being disappointed when others get there first. On the way home I started to read a book about the Italian cyclist Marco Pantani. He too came back from many serious crashes to have a glittering career (although he did die in a hotel room from a massive cocaine overdose) He created one of my most enduring memories. During the Tour de France he dropped his main rival on a mountain called the Col du Telegraph it was cold and raining. He crossed the line alone with his arms stretched out wide as if he was about to take flight. I’m off to have a bath now, there may be some screaming.
22/02/08
It is mild and dull again; the threat of rain is coupled with the threat of a cycle ride with James. Cycling with someone new is always risky. James could be a tyrant of the road, laying down a draconian pace solidly for three hours. I spend the morning working with my scrolling animation machine and I’m really happy with the results, I seem to have struck lucky. I also make a flag-planting machine, which follows a black line and suddenly hammers a small flag into the ground. Eva comes for a chat just before lunch and we discuss the show. As it stands I have made enough stuff for two shows so we may have some tough decisions to make to avoid the jumble sale look. At two I rush off for the ride having totally failed to get anything to eat. There is a good chance I may black out on the first hill. We leave Bedford in a flash of lycra and it soon becomes clear we are going to have a lovely ride hammering up the hills like kings of the road (nearly, there is a strong tailwind). After a couple of hours we head home. Rounding a downhill bend my back wheel slips out from under me leaving me sliding across the road into the verge with a little less skin than I would like. Behind me James fares worse, he brakes when he sees me go, skids on the same bit of road and is dumped head first onto the only bit of kerb for a mile. James looks bad and decides to lie down for twenty minutes. We try riding off but he is too dizzy and falls off again so we call for help. Later we are chatting while waiting for Christina and then while showing off our wounds. It turns out that James has had many and varied crashes, I wish he had mentioned this before.
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21/02/08
Weather mild and dull, it starts to rain as we approach Bedford. The journey to Bedford is beginning to feel a little dull; I may vary my approach from now on. The driver was in a bad mood; he gave us all a lecture about not using mobile phones as one of his earlier passengers had shouted loudly into his from Nottingham to Cambridge. Throughout the journey my fellow passengers could be heard whispering fearfully to their loved ones. Next to me a woman began to knit, her needles ticking and scraping a counterpoint to the squeak of the windscreen wipers. I’ve brought my bicycle this time (more grumbling from the driver) with the promise that I might go out for a ride with James. As I’ve only just recovered from my chest infection I might not last long. While I was on the coach I did hatch a plan to make a sort of animation from a long scrolling drawing. I went straight into a charity shop and bought some old LPs with which to construct my contraption. Big Ben Banjo Band, Popular music that will live forever, and Nat King Cole 20 Golden Greats served me well and unlike most of the things I make, it actually worked first time. Even better though was the discovery that the inner sleeves make excellent portholes.
17/02/08
Last night I travelled to Colchester to see Franko B’s baroque performance Don’t leave me this way at the arts centre. Lawrence had suggested we go and, although to be honest it’s the sort of thing I would usually avoid at all costs, I said yes. I am usually uncomfortable with performance; especially the theatrical/ritualistic sort which, I find, demands more of me than I am willing to give. Anyway we met at the entrance in good time and had a fortifying pint before filing into the performance space which was set out like a traditional theatre with a single spot lit chair on a podium facing raked seating. Like a couple of schoolboys we headed right for the back. I did sit dead centre, which meant I had a direct unobstructed view of the chair.
The performance itself was not as scary as I was expecting, although the incredibly loud, discordant soundtrack made me blink and wince. The body itself (theatrically appearing on the chair in total darkness) was unmoving and barely visible throughout. One moment of aggressive light shone directly into our eyes punctuating the darkness and then it was over. Overall my main response was “ow!” Afterwards Franko and his light vj collaborator came out to answer questions, or rather to make statements. Mainly Franko B wanted to state that he had finished bleeding and he wasn’t going to do it again, and if that was what we came to see, tough. I wanted to say that if blood had been involved I wouldn’t have come. But I thought that might be stealing his thunder. Franko obviously loves performing; he kept grabbing the mike to tell us stuff. One thing stuck in my mind, he said that the body means so much, has so many associations that it gives his performances richness. But I left feeling that the body means nothing. Not necessarily in a bad way.
Afterwards Lawrence and I wandered around Colchester, surrounded by semi-naked clubbers, looking for a hostelry with a quiet soundtrack. Eventually we stopped at a “hotel”, a sort of Formica oasis with a single moustachioed guest eating shepherd’s pie.
15/02/08
Stayed in all day today feeling low, my snotty cough persists. To raise my mood I spent an hour or so painting flag picks black. I think they are going to be used in some sort of pointless game where the players seek to stake claim to a discovered location. They can only place their flag if there is no other within view. Later I started work on a sort of comic mainly to get my ideas in some sort of order.
