The Bins, The Bins!
This morning Miss Dover and I managed our first visit to the studio in quite a while. This was an event made even more momentous by the toing and froing involved in reaching our destination. My day had already been set off kilter by an argument about the bins. Apparently bins which we have been using for five months now do not belong to our flat but rather to the hairdressers below a service that they pay hundreds of pounds for. I was accused of filling there bins with my rubbish. I pointed out that at most I produce one small bg of rubbish a week and that perhaps the brimful bins may have resulted from the shadowy graphic design agency that sits between us on the first floor. The upshot of this is we have no bins. Nor will we be getting any in the near future. A telephone call to the council revealed that they do not provide bins on our street. If we are lucky we will receive an orange sack. I look forward to it. Anyway this news upset us so much that we both forgot vital materials that needed to be transported to the studio forcing us into a dreaded return trip. I never like going back, it seems such a waste. Nevertheless we eventually made it and while Miss Dover settled down to some painting I set about prising up the foam that had adhered itself so permanently to every surface of my studio (and mopping up the puddle at its centre) I have recorded some of the morning’s work, presented below, although I forgot my camera and was forced to use my phone. The last is my first test of the dvds for Pearlville it is proving to be a cacophonic experience. But technically all went well.
I have left film 15 untitled. This was an oversight not an attempt at creating some sort of filmic mythology. Stupidly I deleted all of the also ran titles so I have had to start from scratch. If stumped for much longer I shall resort to a Blue Peter type competition and bear the consequences.
On the Merits of Brevity
After briefly showing my face at work I ran away into town to hunt out some standard lamps for my forthcoming show :
I was continuing to shrink, to become… what? The infinitesimal? What was I? Still a human being? Or was I the man of the future? If there were other bursts of radiation, other clouds drifting across seas and continents, would other beings follow me into this vast new world? So close – the infinitesimal and the infinite. But suddenly, I knew they were really the two ends of the same concept. The unbelievably small and the unbelievably vast eventually meet – like the closing of a gigantic circle. I looked up, as if somehow I would grasp the heavens. The universe, worlds beyond number, God’s silver tapestry spread across the night. And in that moment, I knew the answer to the riddle of the infinite. I had thought in terms of man’s own limited dimension. I had presumed upon nature. That existence begins and ends in man’s conception, not nature’s. And I felt my body dwindling, melting, becoming nothing. My fears melted away. And in their place came acceptance. All this vast majesty of creation, it had to mean something. And then I meant something, too. Yes, smaller than the smallest, I meant something, too. To God, there is no zero. I still exist!
I have begun to realise that such a title brings with it certain difficulties. If people ask me what my show will be called I will have to pull out a card (and not a small one). I caused the Axis “events” form to melt down when I pasted it in to the title box and only a strangely truncated version appears now. Nevertheless I have waded this far and might as well carry on. I found two perfect lamps rather quickly in the Heart Foundation charity shop a place where the foundation kindly gives it’s most physical jobs to those in most danger of a sudden myocardial infarction. Unwilling to carry both across town myself I called upon Miss Dover to assist. The sight of two people carrying a large lamp each along the main street caused such a stir and feelings of public unity as to make me think the people of Ipswich would benefit from a return to a religion with a degree of pomp and ceremony.
I have started the process of naming the 17 films that make up Pearlville. Through a process of suggestion, automatic reading, and desperation I have carefully matched each film with a title. The titles won’t be on the films themselves and no doubt due to inevitable feelings fear and regret they will change many times. I am still not sure about 6, 11, 17 & 18. The images here are from Bonny and Clyde
Film 1 – Underling
Film 2 – Workhouse
Film 3 – Aquaduct
Film 4 – The Man from Lieksa
Film 5 – The Undertaker’s Handbook
Film 6 – Billboard Caesar, Salford Syrup & Bang-tail Shuffle
Film 7 – The Dropper and the Dip
Film 8 – The Treasure House of Bloody Morgan
Film 9 – Glass Tower
Film 10 – Embankment
Film 11 – The Last Man on James Street
Film 12 – Pellicule
Film 14 – Marlene’s Butler
Film 16 – Flight Time
Film 17 – Bonny and Clyde
Film 18 – Adelphi Circus
