encombre
It’s as if the house began to consume itself. Autolysis.
The structure that was akin to a vessel or a body - is now aggregate.
I know some of the properties history, a grubby past that is hung upon darker secrets.
There is a little sadness with its passing, more relief.
The site has become passage and place at the same time. Khôra the space outside, a dumping ground and non space or ‘antiland’
What is Khôra? I need to define better.
Division for generation?
It’s the orange glove, otherwise I might have skipped the scene, as just repeating previous work. But there’s this disembodied skin again - cast against the fragments stone and grit, lying prone, limp and deflated. It had purpose, briefly, visceral and present, now it’s passing through. The black plastic is encroaching, soon to suffocate everything that has been rendered.
Passage and place. Briefly.
Now limp like a dead game bird from a flemish painting.
I’ve been wanting to add video sketches to my work for a while, and finally found the opportunity. I took an alternative route to work and discovered this delicious spectacle.
The ground had opened up and ushered forth. The tarmac blacked and fractured. Sunken and violent. The street transformed from it’s passive state to a site of unknown menace and promise. I felt that were I to enter the water could be relocated to another space. Transformed. Passage.
