Stating/Showing

“I would like to give you this but I would not recommend it

Today I changed someone’s gender. A male walked in to work through the glass doors. Using this pen, keeping a tally of the footfall we, I marked him down under ‘F’ instead of ‘M’. He is now a

Today someone recommended me a pen. It was the same pen they held in their hand – a pen which I assumed to be theirs. Later they took the pen and placed it in their coat pocket. Later still they left their coat over the edge of their chair and went to the bar. Whilst they were at the bar I stood up, reached for the coat, put it on and left. Later still I got home, took off the coat and hung it over the back of the door in the kitchen. I put my hand in the pocket and stole the pen too. These words are written with this pen. These words are a confirmation of this very theft. It is enough to write this story on this page rip the page from the note book and place it, folded, in to the coat pocket replacing the pen. I shall return the coat but not the pen and say thank you for the recommendation.

Female. This pen is transcendental of gender but only has affect as far as its ink can stretch, therefore upon back to the other side of the glass door his sex changed back again in time. Much like an upside down nature fountain (a waterfall) and an upside down modernist waterfall (a fountain) things change depending on how you name them. Things change depending on the name they are given.”

I came across this text whilst studying the catalogue for 2011’s Glasgow Film Festival. Someone had left the catalogue on the floor in the foyer of the Glasgow Film Theatre. I picked it up and out slipped a page with these very words on it. Here I have copied them word for word entirely but what I find strange is that this pen, whether it’s the same pen in each side of the story, happens to take on a certain character with a certain agenda. It has the ability to change things. Maybe at one point this was written with a pen in a hand, but now the text exists in print out with the raw element withheld in hand writing.

I’m not entirely sure what I think about it.

The dog that hangs around (and jellyfish that have minds)

An idea that may or may not involve hanging a dog from the ceiling, which ceiling I am not so sure. Not this ceiling it is too high. Not just any ceiling though.

If I recall the landscape has no proximity to primary colours. Instead it is full of muted dampened washes reminiscent of my bad watercolour days and lazy brush strokes. Want I want to instil are reds and bright whites that are alien to the landscape just as I am alien to this city.

An action or happening for story

Using a spherical lamp shade – as an object out of context and therefore rendered entirely in its own right with its own defining properties – carefully stuffed with helium filled balloons (enough gas for it to float in the sky).

This will be a dramatic act that goes beyond the confines of the “room” (thanks Virginia Wolf) that is or would be a studio – restricted by the city – beyond in to empty and explorative space that matches that of the mind.

Why photographs and not film

It is important when performing for yourself and your camera to extract the live element and leave it within the real time experience. Film and its motion picture quality, even in a digital sense, tells a lie. It pretends to be live and manufactures a bad quality dummy experience. Still photographs taken in quick succession is more appropriate. In this the actuality of film is dealt with and the animated quality becomes a work in its own right made up of fractions and snippets from the real time event. This is more explorative when it comes to editing too.

Live conference with oceanarium jellyfish on how to float properly in the expanse of space.

Dummies and divine sense (or following the same paths and learning the same way)

“On occasion I am dressed accordingly and on these occasions I get to lie about who I am. When wearing clothes I get to wander through the gardens surrounding the institute, passed the bamboo, over each and every stream circumnavigating the amphitheatre – where on other occasions we are instructed to perform – and then back through to the institute… and usually back in to storage.”

The divine sense of dummies – when I think of this I think of Ghost in the shell and an apparent consciousness or sentience in man made objects that are produced to resemble human existence. Cyborgian is the term. This term is perhaps now a little dated. If one part is human then the non-human part is the opposite of human.

The divine sense of dummies – I would like to extract the zombie-essence from these artefacts and question (tap in to) how qualified their reasoning is. Why do they exist and when they are stored out of sight what is their reason for being there?

The divine sense of dummies – is to be found in the basement then, at the bottom of the city museum. Here, in this room, a found-photographic composition is located. A lens is placed and the remote on the shutter is pressed gathering the correct exposure to render an image of these objects tied together like limbs. There is little stability yet something holds them upright and gives them a lingering sense of balance.

“I made up my mind and then changed it, I changed my mind, my mind changed… and all of a sudden I was naked like a doll exposed for a life-like drawing exercise. When I walk my legs wobble and my head remains still staring straight ahead. I do not have the ability to see rather I know the direction I am walking because of my prior function and my installed intuition. My reason for being here instructs me to walk this way and that, and eventually to climb the plinth in front of the spectators, to be observed out with obscurity and to be drawn from and sometimes upon.”

FROM CONSTANCE AND FROM VIOLET

I am currently in the process of moving flats from Glasgow to Edinburgh.

I came across two old USB sticks I kept files on during my studies at Leeds University.

Here is an image and a piece of text, possibly related probably not…

04/05/2007

Ha – the non-performance of the half hour drawings, by wearing some kind of dress!

Ok so I didn’t measure the dimensions of the drawing in relation to my body – it is evident in the photographs how large the overall garment was. However this is somewhat irrelevant as they were to be worn what ever the circumstance – and at least I got a photograph. In fact the situation of the photo-documentation is interesting here as I had to direct someone who had never used an SLR before to take the photograph (this statement may be slightly hypocritical in relation to some of the photographs I have taken), so the realisation of the idea could only have happened with someone else present. It is relatable also to how the artist parades his ideas and art works in front of an audience and I think this ‘performance’ highlights this. The paradox of me coming up with the idea then building the suit by myself with the fact that I needed someone’s assistance in order to put the suit on and then to record the fact that it was on – highlights the importance of an audience in such forms of art. Performance has always been something that has been available to me aesthetically in order to dabble in, but only as an extension of some form of documentation, and it is interesting that in order to document such perspectives another person always has to be involved. This subtle form of interaction with another person in such situations is interesting in an indirect sense, such a sense that always gives way to the notion of someone else being there outside the frame of documentation, as either of us is documented in some kind of task – such a task that is essentially directed by the artist. The notion of control becomes evident here, as the artist remains the director in such situations.

(Design magazine page) Geometry race (Su’s secret Santa paper) and Bell Tower Communication painting

I had left the bright red Chinese lanterns next to the canal in South Tottenham, but they seem to have floated back to the shore again. One is broken and has lost its steel axis, the other two (one with its dragon dressing) are intact – they’re currently drying out on the radiator. Meanwhile I discard of the broken one in the large commercial waste bin next to the Italian restaurant at the bottom of the road. I do this in the cover of darkness and use the fairy lights hanging down across the restaurant’s front window as my screen.

I have stopped using lanterns as before they were over used. The two that are still intact are now dry, deflated and stored in the dark olive green bag I was given by the Chinese shop assistant when I first bought them in London. I remember that day – it was hot and the capital smog attached itself to my limbs. The gift shop I went in to was respite from the sun, I saw tits and vaginas splayed across magazine covers as my eyes stroked lanterns hanging from the ceiling in all manner of shapes and sizes.

Now I sit in my flat in Glasgow, its cold, windy and stormy and I have just packed the last of my DVDs in to a box. I am laid on the granny bed futon in the kitchen drinking luke-warm coffee and I notice a drawing framed last year, by myself, depicting two runners with hats in the Scottish countryside racing across a stream. In their hands they hold long branches snapped from near by trees – at the extremities of these branches three Chinese lanterns wave with exulted momentum: their design is novel for the scene that is otherwise set by browns and purples lucid with dampening rain.

Set beneath the drawing in the frame, acting as its mount, is a yellow page I used in an installation piece (again last year). It sets out a number of names, of people unknown to me, the page was ripped from a design magazine – ripped out of context purely for its formal characteristics. It depicts encompassing circular forms like a chart: a periodic image of who may have won which race at which time perhaps.

Another frame I keep to hold an older and dustier piece of work: a small idea-based painting of scarlet red shapes upon a lined light affect non-acid-free paper. It is lined as if an obsolete address card. With the paint marks – copied from the altar tile-design situated where an installation once completed the painting’s reasoning – sit pencil strokes and notes for further ideas. It is a sketch foremost but sits, non-the-less, lightly and comfortably in the frame.

Set beneath the painting in the frame, acting as a mount, is a piece of wrapping paper that once wrapped my boss’s secret Santa gift. She discarded the wrapping paper after carefully retrieving the present inside – it is of floral design and displays subdued colours that compliment the dishevelled tone of the light affected address card.

From the broken lantern I kept hold of one thing. This thing is a yellow tassel that once hung down from the bottom of the lantern with yellow and red string, the weight of the tassel is a small green globe of plastic. This tassel rests now on top of the aforementioned frame…