Tuesday 24 April 2012

On turning around again



and again and again in pursuit of a Wood Street E17 field tale or two concerning cargo cults. I think they are in the process of germinating.
Elsewhere faith in the eternal sprout has been affirmed and rewarded by the sight of kale, purple sprouting broccoli, tomatoes, cucumbers and others emerging and uncurling into life.


These studies in the fields of polytunnels and galleries have involved me intervening in 'the field' at large with bad bicycle cargo spectacles of which there is one featured below.


While returning home from work I failed to dodge a storm of huge raindrops and one drop in particular landed smack splash bang on my head and caused some disarray in the sparsely furnished (neo-minimalist) interior that is my mind. One consequence of the disarray is that when reaching for a 'p' I did in fiction grasp a 'v'. An apiary/aviary combination developed out of that consequence and has been contributed to Walthamstow based Artillery's, 'Bird Box Avenue' - an art intervention, as part of 'Make Yourself at Home', along Fore St, Edmonton, London. 


Between Man, the birds and the bees.

When asked who lives in the box I answered, a chimera (or chimaera) - a word for which the Oxford English Dictionary gives 4 meanings. One of the meanings, 'an organism containing a mixture of genetically different tissues, formed by processes such as fusion of early embryos, grafting, or mutation' is what I am familiar with, along with the Greek mythological context.
The second meaning given is, 'something hoped for but illusory or impossible to achieve'. This meaning chimed with my research into retail cargo cults; research, in the form of seeds of ideas and questions that will, I hope, emanate in time for various art trails and a 2012 Field Report.

I also consulted Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space. Bachelard elaborates on the phenomenology of nests,

'and so when we examine a nest, we place ourselves at the origin of confidence in the world, we receive a beginning of confidence, an urge toward cosmic confidence. Would a bird build its nest if it did not have its instinct for confidence in the world? If we heed this call and make an absolute refuge of such a precarious shelter as a nest -paradoxically no doubt, but in the very impetus of of the imagination - we return to the sources of the oneiric house'. 


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