sketchbook: first 1:1 meeting for d/c

I tell her of the gestures and how I am exploring them. Of how they originate in one thing then become something else.
  1. ——————————————————
  2. my gesture for what the line is, to T in the skype
  3. my tracing L.’s concerns, me following that gesture after and before the next I meet her (there are FB posts for each of these)
  4. >> transfer/ transgression: I deposit these back in another dialogue
At the moment I feel shy about 1., as if this is too private, can’t be made public. But I can possibly make this strange again.
I talk about what I would like to do with others. It is searching, I feel a bit stupid but persist with that (it is generally the best way to deal with stupidity):
  • the near space: that it isn’t about the context but the relationship, contact
  • I start with the thermoplast; the touching and tracing the contact that sets; but also the transgression of touching with the layer between.
  • what makes me feel stupid is the question of purpose: if this is big enough to form investigation.
  • my entry is Lefebvre and the production of space: what happens in the near space and if that near space offers not just constraint but an opening to elsewhere (that is where Le Guin makes my heart beat hard)
  • A: utopia sounds always like an absence, but really, where is its presence?
  • and then: what is there about gestures, poses, moves?
I recall our first meeting at their Transmo show and how I felt really daring to ask her to meet with me. She said: she liked that I did and it was a good and unexpected performance we did in the space that tried to give gestural form and reach beyond too. I then recall how when I returned from House a few weeks later that I had this pouch of assorted images that I would use to talk through House. How I would choose and arrange accordingly to whom I was talking to what images to show, which one to withhold. Which makes me now remember that she suggested to use a small series of 1:1 meetings to develop from one to another. She asks: where would you want to have them? I say: I don’t know. I like outside. Or perhaps an anonymous institutional space that doesn’t hold much meaning for either of us. But yes: I like the idea of moving with people. Perhaps even the same route, of discovering the difference along the same route. I tell her about the process of Charlotta Ruth’s analogue augmented reality: how a very simple proposition produces such complex arrangement.
I also talk a bit more about the workshop and how I tried to bring this into it, how I didn’t dare to be instructive enough. I then however tell her the zine and we flick through it. Before I get to the end she says: you know, this form fits perfect, both for the topic of the zine but also for what you are interested with your wider project — the marked out, highlighted gestures along with the glued in pages.
We split to meet again on the other side of town. Things intervene and I jump on a train home. We text a little and I tell her that this was the first time I discussed this in detail with someone who does this too (outside the ones who are paid to listen to me), and that I was nervous about it. She says: I look forward to us spending some more time with this.
My nerves sit at the focus: if it’s too small, too intimate. Why should it matter? And, damn it, that takes me right back to the smallness of House:
I will try a starting point for this. It is here: two images of an ordinary small-town house somewhere in Northwest Germany. The house was built in 1935, three men moved in, one died in 1943, one married and a young woman moved in while he was absent. From 1945 onwards it housed at times more than 25 people, mostly strangers, two girls were born. The man who built it died in 1964 […]’*
* The opening of the text I wrote for the walking/arts conference.

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