| |
Art Writing from The Writer's House
VerySmallKitchen curated The Writer’s House, a three day long series of art writing residencies as part of AWAY DAY, at Wandle Park in Colliers Wood, south London.
The Writer’s House invited five practitioners to devise day long projects that utilised the house/ tent as a studio for a writer in residence, yet also took account of the public and interactive nature of the AWAY DAY event. What happens to the writing when it takes place in the social and natural environments of Wandle Park? What – where – who- when – how- if – then – was/is/will be writing?
Projects – by Bram Thomas Arnold, Rachel Lois Clapham (in collaboration with Antje Hildebrandt), Marianne Holm Hansen, Tamarin Norwood and Mary Paterson, each begin as a score (below) with varying relations to what might happen in the park itself.
Such scores function as self instruction, an invitation to others, an announcement, a conceit, an observation, hope and warning, attempted seduction, and/or an intuition towards multiple possible activity. They inhabit the conceptual and physical geographies of Wandle Park via their own.
Here are the scores and the art writing that resulted:
Mary Paterson
 
MEMORY EXCHANGE is an experiment, a model for participation, and a document of memory in public and private.
Score
I remember walking with William and Oliver in this park.
My father left a crab in my room.
And DJ bought me wool socks and a wool vest.
Sitting under some olive trees looking over the sand and the sea and someone grilling fish by the side of a restaurant.
We all go quiet and wait.
In the river outside we saw a yellow football caught in the weeds.
At Stockwell roundabout, a car in the wrong lane pulled out in front of me.
It didn’t fit in the gap between the lid and desk.
My father left a crab in my room.
Our Dad shook the gas tank and the barbecue flames erupted from the back of the grill.
Being woken up by my dad saying ‘Tea! Tea!’
Bats, foxes, foxes and burnt out car.
Riding my motorbike at 120mph on the Isle of Man – and being overtaken.
All you could see was water.
On the other side of the fence robocops bang their shields.
1943? ‘BANG’ Father saying ‘There goes my house.’
Ivory is my bear that I had when I was born.
I didn’t really regret letting go.
I remember when my mummy put my little brother’s shoes on the wrong way.
I made a robot and Jordan broke it.
I had a best friend but I lost her two weeks ago and we’re not friends anymore.
I was messing around with a friend and gave her a playful shove.
This park reminds me of a park in Greece we used to go to when I was little.
Chuck hitting his tail on the electric fence and jumping straight into our blue convertible.
My grandmother made us fish paste sandwiches, and we ate them whilst sitting in the boot of the car.
The smell outside this morning about 25m above the ground.
Letting a balloon go and watching it speed up into the sky.
The boys had to stop and wait, and wait, and wait, and wait but it never freed itself.
It made me think of home.
A mug of tea on the bedside table.
Instructions for the Memory Exchange:
1. Welcome to the Memory Exchange.
2. Please write a memory on a memory card.
3. Submit your memory to the memory archive. This is now the property of MemoryExchange and will be donated to another person.
Forget it.
4. The archivist will give you a new memory. This is now your memory. Remember it.
Memory Exchange Art Writing and photographs - here
Rachel Lois Clapham in collaboration with Antje Hildebrandt
   
READERS WANTED to share an intimate (w)reading performance for two. This is a little game, a small exercise in trust and a live cursive encounter. You can decide how long it might take. Two minutes is good though. Bring a + 1 with you if you like.
Please come. I’ll be waiting.
(Suitable for all ages)
A score for READERS WANTED
Nb. I am waiting for you
You set off on from your home
Nb. I am waiting for you
You arrive in the park
Nb. I am waiting for you
You find me
Nb. I am waiting for you
You take your shoes off and come inside
Nb. I am no longer waiting
We blindfold one another
I whisper to you
We might touch
We (w)read together
Then we look at what we have made
You leave me
You return home
Nb. I am still waiting for you
Memory Exchange Art Writing visuals
Bram Thomas Arnold
Score
a walk with a compass, a measurable step,
try and avoid the stream, somehow,
losing myself in the reeds,
losing myself in the rhythm,
losing myself in the recall,
….an experiment performed as though the landscape were a canvas for the imagination and footsteps were a rhythm for thoughts, language a plane for misinterpretations and translations, mistakes and conversations.
Bram Thomas Arnold's resulting poems will be published online here in October 2010
Tamarin Norwood
Score
C A N Y O U S E E M E T O O ?
Tamarin Norwood presents a day of reciprocal portraiture
1. Be a person or an animal or an inanimate thing.
2. Sit for a written portrait as you write a portrait of the writer in return.
Can you see me too? Text to be published online here in October 2010
Marianne Holm-Hansen
Score
We don’t speak much about how we truly feel – so, we will write.
For the Record will collate two collaborative lists of words pertaining to the emotions that may occur in relation to the park. The lists will be subsequently filed as documentary evidence of the day . To ensure accuracy, please come along to place your feelings on record.
For the Record is an ongoing project by Marianne Holm Hansen. For more information see here.
We don’t speak much about how we truly feel – so, we will write. Art Writing visuals to be published online here in October 2010
|
|
