I can only describe how I have been feeling since Origin/Crafting Space ended yesterday as elated exhaustion. The weekend was a constant, intense flow of people, right up to the closing minute. The structure seemed to have absorbed so much human energy into its walls that it drew more and more attention as the hours passed. To think for a moment about the human desire to possess, make, give and receive objects and to reflect on the relationships they create seemed to be a potent point of departure.
A lot of our families came at the weekend and I think this is what made it more emotionally intense. I had to keep leaving the space to get fresh air and headspace. I also spent a lot of the time weaving or re-weaving loose ribbons and being in literal touch with the object, like a lover about to leave on a long trip. By the time Sunday, 6pm came around it became obvious that a ritual was needed to say goodbye -at least in the context of Origin. Those of the team who remained in the space – myself, Willow, Raphaella, Philip and Vijak- stood inside, put our hands over each others in the centre and thanked the space, all those who has been part of making it and sent out an intention for it to find its perfect place in the world. Then we sent this up through the open roof and began the fast and furious dismantling process.
I have really enjoyed the ride, the wave that these two weeks has been. The contact with so many people and the drinking in of their facial reactions and written/spoken responses.
I realise this is what I am supposed to be doing in the world and have a stronger sense of purpose as a result. As Willow and I stood in the courtyard at Somerset House watching the pavilion being rapidly dismantled, we noticed the neo-classical dome, the central point at the back of the building as you face in from the Strand. The echo of the shape of our structure –which I hadn’t noticed until that moment – made us both smile and this verse, came to mind:
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
The Tempest, 4. 1
I leave you with an image of the piece, on Day 1 and Day 14.
I will continue to write on the outcomes of this project as and when they arise.
