new face to conjure
No sign of anyone recognising the shoe lady. Instead, here is another face. I was part of a festival community event and am shocked at how unreal I look. I was intrigued to hear the theory that we only exist as holograms and the real data is on the edge of black holes. Now there is an amazing margin. Not much chance of surviving that one though.
Shoe lady continued
I was gathering Acts of Kindness on Saturday in Melbourne, when I met a dark haired woman from Sheffield. ‘Aha’ I said, ‘Were you sitting on the station wall with your shoes abandoned beside you last week?’ Sadly she wasn’t my shoe lady but I told her the story anyway and she may take it back to circulate Sheffield.
And now I look at the photo again, she has short hair and the Melbourne lady had long hair. Oh well, it was a good story.
disembodied, re-embodied
So here is the rest, or at least some of the owner of the shoes. I disconnected her from them digitally. Staying connected at the margins is quite difficult. Choosing which connectons to maintain, which to ditch requires ongoing soul searching to make sure I don’t burn my boats by letting go. Hanging on is much easier initially, until I begin to think ‘this is draining me’. Not all connections are effective or meaningful connections.
the reality of MY margins
I’ve become aware this week that although my practice is socially engaged and negotiatiation is at the core, sometimes when something matters to me then there is no negotiation. At that point, I want to get out what exists in my head and in a way that satisfies my standard of quality. It’s all part of my ‘considered not contrived’ mantra. That’s when someone elses’ quality might bother me.
Yet when I am in negotiation mode, the quality is in the conversation, the interactions, the shared experience. Perhaps that’s it; if I am making something concrete to be a catalyst, then that’s when I want it to be the best I can make it. Once that is achieved, the structure I have created is strong enough to underpin the event where the boundaries are quite fluid. Phew, glad I got my head round that one…
More on empty spaces
Saw this pair of shoes devoid of feet at Sheffield train station yesterday, owner nearby, though I have cropped her out to protect her anonymity. Don’t expect she is an a-n reader but you never know.
If a margin is a blank space, these could be construed as margins. Makes me think I don’t have to go to the ends of the world to experience the margins. They could just as well be on the end of my legs. And that’s where I started this blog, dipping my toe into mainstream.
