En Place

cycle slowly to the village
ponder on a few things
Morris and his interactive objects
that encourage
a kind of self conscious
seeing oneself seeing things
‘a kind of phenomenological mirror’ as he calls it
am rooting around these thoughts
looking for some traction

and what about shutters?
all the houses here have them
so multifunctional –
why don’t we all have them?
are curtains a female equivalent
mediators between inside and out
rather than definitive shutters-out
of heat, light, voyeurs, thieves
Hilde Heynen has much to say
on modernity and domesticity
but little on shutters v curtains

return
with croissants, a baguette,
plus a lemon, cheese, melon
the diet is limited
but mostly I don’t notice

in the cool of the workshop
I add to my construction
taking time to measure
angle and cut carefully
countersink, drill, re drill
and re-make when it doesn’t work
but there is a long way to go
practically and conceptually
it’s all a bit intuitive for now

afternoon
an elicit hour lying
in the shade of a tree
reading, dozing…
then have to go
to write up some text
for the présentation in 2 weeks
there is some translation needed
– my french is poor
and realise
simple-ish things are expressed
in a convoluted way
so address the meaning
in the most straightforward way
then refer to google-translate
which is better
there are a few errors
to sort later

a fire is burning at the back
for a bbq
at the village hall opposite
there is a party
with mostly unmemorable music
but it sets the scene
sausages, potatoes wrapped in foil
cook away
we collect wood
drink wine
chat away
eat
in a convivial and summertime way

Friday 7 July

early morning
cycle to Pont-Sainte-Maxence
bob along
behind H in a yellow hat
down country lanes
sandy alleys
alongside heavy lorries
…its been a few decades
since I’ve done this
it’s quite far
15km
I get
tomates rose and pêche plate
from the market
pink umbrellas shield
pale melons
nestling in magenta tissue
we enjoy coffee and croissants
before we head back
legs ache, sun is hot

the afternoon drifts
make phone calls
touch base with home
answer emails
write, talk, think
but mostly
stare out of the windows
with their superior and vertical proportions
the long french fenêtres,
…according to Perret
‘reproduce an impression of complete space’
in other words
you can see at once street, garden and sky
this is true I can see
fore, mid and back ground
Le Corb on the other hand
preferred his windows horizontal
the gaze is lead far away …..
allowing us to dominate what we see
….anyway

there is no urgency to the day
so it wafts by on hot air

hot hot hot and stormy

borrow the yellow bike
bit like a chopper
to go to the shop
the warm rain
makes my arms wet
and shiny
am dry by the time I return

out on the grass again
it’s like a stage –
I find more objects to arrange
it is harder than yesterday
they don’t quite come together
and transcend their individuality
left to their own devices
not much happens

afternoon in the workshop
making a self supporting
frame –
a need to make something tangible
function – not sure
reason – it’ll come !
making leads to thinking
making helps to make connections
making helps
suspended in thought + deed
here there is
time and space
to be unconstrained

the day is flattened out by heavy cloud
it’s humid
I retreat
flick through loads of photos
and bits of film footage
from the last few days
one or 2 things might lead somewhere
feels like mining – speculative
something is happening
but I can’t quite grasp it
yet

as I cook
a tremendous storm gathers
and disperses all its energies
noisily, windily
everything slams
….and it cools down briefly
then some reading
‘tho not the serious books I brought with me
a novel about a journalist
sent to cover the
Venice Biennale
he’s having a high old time
in a blokey way
you know the mix…
exotic woman (LA gallerist)
old friends (other blokey journalists)
add in bellinis, private views,snogging
middle aged angst
the ‘eat, sex, Tintoretto,
a yacht, risotto, coke,
poncey artists, drunken artists
vaporettos etc
it’s a laugh

this morning
through tall narrow french windows
light and heat pour in
lozenges of light
ooze across the room
the birds are vociferous
like a number of rusty metal things
needing oil

it seems
both extraordinary and absurd
to be here at all
poking around someone else’s
objects, stories, home
to make a response,riposte,reply
finding ways to make something happen
making sense or not

the Château is an expression
of a ceratin kind of life
rural, nostalgic and timeless-ish
and relentless hard work
there is a sense of history
being lived here

H is present everywhere
she is and has been many things
romantic and bohemian things
but the thing that sticks in mind
though
an unexpected attribute perhaps
that of un funambule
we agree to record some thoughts and stuff
not knowing where it’ll lead

but oudoors in the bright heat
there are more chairs
a gilded plaster frame
some hollyhocks
and
they all talk to each other
in a casual kind of way
shrugging off the need
for elucidation

the clam shaped chairs are arranged
on the grass
H likes them, they remind her of the ’70’s
I ask her to talk and I will film

it was at the Tate
with Robert Morris in ’71
Bodyspacemotionthings
where the public were encouraged
to test their bodies
H tested hers on the tightrope
and so she began
her costumes were
inspired by Erte
and made of sausage skins

I sit up late
youtubing tightropers
Philipe Petit
with his purple socks and satin costume
his neat walk between the twin towers
such determination, concentration
and Blondin
carrying people and things on his back
across Niagara Falls
tempting oblivion

but back to Morris a minute
he claimed his objects
in 1971
were not less important
(through their interactivness)
but less self-important
allowing an unfolding in time
hmmmmm
this too seems like a thing
to hold onto

only a small bit of state bread for breakfast
so I walk to Grandfresnoy
yesterday’s cycling left tender traces
there and back takes about an hour
I see 6 cars
the shop has a limited selection
which is good enough
am easily undone by too much choice

on the way back I see a woman
une vieille femme, she calls herself
I boldly comment on la fleur dans sa chapeau
she tells me a lot of stuff
with wild gestures
it’s local gossip, I guess
as she points her chin this way and that
she has a bad heart – flatttens both hands against her chest
and is 87
she has a tranfixing dark boil
I try to focus on her gleeful eyes
as she rushes on about the queen
and her hats
tells me to say ‘hello’ to grande-bretagne
I wonder briefly about the grande
in grande-bretagne

I mooch about the sheds and barns
gather up some chairs
acrylic sheet
a strange red metal thing
and arrange them on the lawn
like props on a stage
it is hot, the wrong part of the day
to be moving stuff around
I take some photos
and think how this is
very much H’s place
she is embedded here
each object speaks with
her musical french voice
which echoes round the garden
sometimes laughing and garrulous
sometimes low and earnest

the question of what to do
on an artist’s residency
is in the air
I photograph
I walk and plan some shots for film
I talk to H about her past
the unknown outcomes niggle
and interrupt the process

the builder arrives for an aperatif
he is chatty, en français
I think
I’ve ordered some wood from him –
30m in 2m lengths
hard to be sure
he asked a lot of questions
that I frankly didn’t understand
still it’s in character with the
‘find it and use it’
nature of the project so far

late afternoon dissolves into evening
and I am sitting on the terrace
with assorted woofers, H and the builder
knocking back the kir
and black olives
5 out of 8 of us speak good french
so 3 of us just observe
the builder is makes a joke about
killing pigs
he enacts the knife going into the pigs neck
with snorting sounds and much laughter
we laugh a bit …not sure where this is leading

for supper the 2 Belgian ladies
have made an assortment of quiches
(is there a theme here ?)
cheese & ham, carrot & salmon
quite tasty
followed by tart rhubarb tart
with a curdled something on the top
the latter is met with something
a little like dismay
forks tip tap on plates politely
we all look into the middle distance
willing it to disappear ….