concept maps: touch/contact/body in movement (revisited)

I go back to the concept maps right at the start of the course, put them up on the wall and then take little tours through them. I find three so far:

 

1 touch

i take a little tour across and through my living room wall and the concept maps i made a year ago. their format does neither photograph well nor did it display easily otherwise, so i forgot what i had been doing. touch was map #1, they got less textual, more spacious as i went along.
i of course delight at touché, tocarse, out of touch. google doesn’t translate the pleasure that lives in the middle.
bebopalubop it quietly hums before it moves a little upwards and out of touch. touché. (it possibly touches the ceiling now.)

 

2 contact

:: and for contact. (i had forgotten about the transmission but delighted to find the precursor of ωθήσατε in here already and of course: Ursula Le Guin… i wonder if i thought of anything specific, did i?)

 

3 body in movement

:: body in movement (map #3) is more graphic, less wordy.
site is a graphite smear, i have some misconceptions about audience, ask about the tool as drawing (and find this in some of the autumn things); there is a resonance field which i will keep:

site/event in drawing/contact, January 2020

 

(this clip is the outcome of 18 months trying to get the video clips in a PPT to transfer as videos in export to .mov in Powerpoint for Mac). I have some notes on the process, which I will use too.

But first: the most recent pecha kucha (no narration) from my materials. This one for a brief introduction to my research/body of work for a first hangout with other L3 people across different disciplines.

marginal vision (or: is this peripheral?)

Gesa Helms added a new photo.
27 September at 12:38 ·
— with marginal success i am trying to catch the corner of my vision. then i look up and find some above plaster electrics while waiting, far more pliable
(later, the next page, it rained and my tight corner sheltered me but not the page. the rain bled through and now catches the overhead lighting)

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Sam  trying to draw perspective at close up.
It was Ellen who first raised this issue in the stacked chair exercise.

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13/11
This remains demanding, and there are a few drawings from the staircase that attempt this. I tire very quickly and can’t quite concentrate. But I guess that is the nature of this and I wonder where sticking with this insight for a bit longer may take me?

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[insert sketches]

18/11
The issue of tiredness remains. On Friday last week, I abandon the idea to do more work (again) and instead hang. Today, I almost don’t go, then start to walk and notice the pain in my knee and go to the coffeeshop instead. I write it in my list, today:

d. i tire everytime my sketchbook takes its positions. i know this tiredness. either i am going to get sparkles soon or i may be pushing too hard.
e. i want sparkles but on the off-chance that it is the latter, i retreat.

— so, part of the tiredness may relate to the whole setting (institutional) as much as to the peripheral vision task. It can be either edge or too much pressure. It concerns questions of wholeness and holeness… There is something interesting happening here in terms of material/ spatial shifting: the peripheral vision seems to indicate an ‘almost there’ which can also be utopian in constitution. I wonder if the GIS/ excel approach may yield something here.

Three wagging dog tails, just observed:

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6/12

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Herz/Stein:: flicker/tracing books

They each relate to a drawing/contact event. I write about them in evernote and in my sketchbooks but nowhere online.

They develop out of tracing and moving pages, a curiosity how an event translates successively into mark. This translation involves much editing over a series of stages after the drawing.

#1

 

#2

#3

 

I made a talk-through the idea and books here:

 

(there are a few more events to process in this form; should I consider it strong enough — I like how it allows me to move important events into this project; am I concerned that noone knows them?)

Kaleidoscope:: participatory process

This was the first of the three participatory processes I developed during BoW3. It also arose out of discussions around mail art and exchange projects. I had explored the ideas of folding and constructing viewing devices out of simple A4 print outs of verge/weed and to investigate that what was on view inside/outside of the device.

From this, the idea emerged to let others explore what can be constructed, seen, viewed, and recorded with such a simple device.

I sent/ gave three of these to a friend each, with a brief and open description. I also didn’t specify the way of how they show me their record. I hope to have received a couple of these back early in the new year and would like to make this process bigger (possibly also involving others who I do not know).

I decided to give a different image to each of them (and in that way to fold verge/weed into this process).

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Die Luke (hatch):: zine/process idea

I started three interactive/performative processes during BoW 3:

  • Kaleidoscope
  • wild herbarium (autumn 2019 edition); and
  • Die Luke (hatch)

This post concerns the latter and presents a draft idea for a self-print zine, folding instruction (1 page A4, double-sided) and an invitation to a little hide and seek investigation, and potential follow-up.

The idea is to make a single, two-sided zine for participants to print out and fold and to investigate their familiar surroundings to find some locations, to record some associations and to invite to show/share with me.

It follows ideas around un/familiar in day-to-day spaces and ideas of escapes or stepping into elsewhere (though one of the images currently doesn’t offer an escape, but literally, warmth).

The zine construction is as follows:

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The images I want to use are either drawn/photographs (and possibly overlaid on previously photocopied templates):

 

The instruction would be simple:

Find Die Luke and elsewhere

Record associations, observations

Do you want to share them? show me?

struggling for words :: Ωθησατε / Ξέρω

posted a revised and shorted version of this on FB [almost titled]
Gesa Helms added 12 new photos.
3 hrs · (4 October 2019)
Ωθησατε / Ξέρω (struggling for words)
stalling with a lack of site, an inability on my part to be soft and porous enough at the current time
[this is the section that is aka my Brexit shite]
Ωθησατε / push! / google pretends that I am pushed.
I know / Ξέρω
der Rest / το υπόλοιπο (I am thinking of Perec’s Oulipo)
Ouvroir de littérature potentielle, or Oulipo,
xthes / gestern
αλληλεγγύη / Solidarity
ερωτευμένη / in love
exodos going to/ from.
κανένασ / κάπειοσ noone someone anyone
pretty doll (not us)
xorto / grass
eating worlds, doors, oak and wood.
Θάνατοσ στο φασισμό
κρι κρι
die Gebuehr η προμήθεια (της τράπεζας), η χρέωση, το τέλος
the plum that fell onto the car. P. is likely to know that word
here it is: κορόμηλο / wild plum (google briefly assumes fairy, Jutta and I later bake a Zwetschgenkuchen, δαμασκηνόπιτα )
τουσ πελικάνουσ μου, Pelikans too (with questions of ownership).
what sites and narratives do these sit against?
there is also something that I struggle to learn verbs from German (and little words), they are too fragmented for me to make sense and too distant from my day-to-day thoughts to register in this way.
there is also something about the digital form of learning is not tactile enough, it doesn’t stick this way. I go through loops and loops of words that float past meaninglessly.
this is not (yet) the glossary for Research.
[there is a visual order to this, FB ignores it in upload]

ban/n/ister (two parts)

Over the past month I have experimented with taking foldings/moldings off some objects in the staircase: leaves and protrusions of the radiator along with some single folds of handrail, ironworks and some rubbings too of floor marks.

It follows the idea of indexicality and contact. But also a curiosity around memory and medium shift. What remains, what lingers, what gets lost. Effectively too: what is the thing about indexicality.

It is the most literal end of my interest in contact.

  1. folding the bannister into a sketchbook. i move along one stretch, leave a blank page between each.
  2. option a: fold back into the 2d space of the sketchbook as explored with a few single molds earlier
  3. option b: to preserve by dipping in hot wax, encasing the indexical link.

 

1. folding bannister into sketchbook

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2. option a: fold back into the 2d space of the sketchbook:

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3. option b: to preserve by dipping in hot wax

— I decide, after a few tests of dipping the sketchbook pages to dip each of the folded pages into melted beeswax for the entirety of the book:

The resulting object is explored and a little discussed in this video:

 

There are a series of significant things in here:

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The dip/not dip process is messy and leaves the interspersed blank pages as messy. I think they will need to be removed/ altered for the object to work as object.

The process (both stages: initial fold, then dipping) is useful and works: it is performative and works across a whole range of senses: sounds, touch, smell and movement, as well as performative presence.

As part of my test, before proceeding with the whole sketchbook, I dip an empty page of my current sketchbook, then proceed to write in it. It almost seems that this process/ transformation is more significant still:

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I also accidentally, and to my horror, create another encased object: my phone fell into the tub with the hot wax. I retrieve and recover. It curiously records part of the rescue. I post this video in a separate post.

distance/proximity (after Res 2)

18/11

The tiredness when approaching the staircase seems to indicate an edge. I go often, then divert, pause, gather perspective, go or don’t go. Divert.

Sometimes, when I go I am fascinated by the openness of my discoveries.

The fallen ceiling seems to change things. It is so complex and elaborate. Both in what it reveals about the construction age and method of the once ceiling. But also as to how to safeguard the site and the passers-by.

It seems to want to take its own place within this.

I giggle when I realise that M had been talking about his fear of replication: of the halogen ceiling light and various cracks across. And, above all, L was away and would be no help.

The tiredness seems method. As much as the failure in the peripheral vision is.

Are there places where I cannot stand? That I cannot take.

 

Black heat

White heat

 

The tiredness follows me here too.

I feel it. I can actually see it with my eyes struggling to focus.

That edge of the site has bled into my physical ageing process.

I am becoming that edge.

 

And so does the peripheral vision

It is the moment when I catch myself chasing thoughts and scenarios, so vividly and then so utterly out of reach.

It is a process I have known all my life. That inbetween waking and sleeping space where I and all seems to be altogether different. It is so present and yet also always just out of reach.

 

Sometimes we trick ourselves into recognising each other.

 

Depositing scraps is one way of approaching this.

The other is not paying attention at all

(until it comes to you)

And if you ignore it further still it will eventually shout right at your face.

In full view.

 

The various sites of scrap

Here

Facebook

little inlay

messenger

whatsapp

wordpress

Instagram

email

sketchbook

 

Here: inside different notes and notebooks. don’t miss a single one.

 

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schemata/ dream logics

[one of the posts exploring the organising forms, principles, and escape routes in BoW]

the route into the staircase, aka Die Luke, was a dream during summer and its complex staircase arrangement and spatial layout. I sought spaces that could serve as sketching/ research base for it.

recently, I drew the spatial dynamics of the dream itself, and think the idea of a schemata may take me somewhere:

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one of my most recent sessions with the staircase led to this schema (photocopied, printed and layed out on a coffee table surface):

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Then, this morning, I find this schema by the curb, ready for waste disposal:

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satellite objects make love

she liked. (a lot) (and as if liking was important).
her geek got fully piqued when i told her of the relational tables that GIS produces. she: go, go, go (near, and far and explore that distance).
of the glossary she made satellite objects.
i went, predictably to here. (it kind of returns it to drawing/contact, if Brexit wasn’t a thing).

the original song from the album transformer… lou reed satellite of love

moving-with a line: gossip, secrets, a messenger app

— this is the manuscript I submitted as part of the Walking/Arts conference in July in Prespes, Greece.

Abstract

This contribution explores a series of video pieces of encounters on street corners, in parks, at dusk, at lunch time. They also take place in private chats, in Facebook posts: circulating across a networked public, tracing notions of veracity, transparency and secrecy. In their gossiping nature they insist that something happened while attending to the power of silence and our attempts to comply and subvert at once. The work is interested in the constitution of public and private in circulation and production: what happens to a private self when it becomes public in: a series of movements-with, urban space, an audio-visual body of work.

a PDF of the manuscript is available here: Gesa Helms Moving-with a line_080619_FINAL_image placement

d/c event: walnut gravity support

— it’s a working title, and it is the continuation of my earlier post (and research) on absence, walking into the verge, small performances.

These happened on the day of my departure. They are planned differently (like me walking on my own across some of the fallen walnuts. My dad comes and offers assistance. I don’t refuse and a series of explorations on drawing/contact ensue:

absence in drawing/ contact

There are a few routes that I would still like to explore for Part 3 of BoW. The investigations of edges, sides, spatial demarcations and what bodies move across has been there since the bridge and road crossings in Northern Greece, they got taken further in August and September with explorations of routes, bridges, side views when moving (see here), as well as the biggest series of work around verges/weeds (minimally here).

When I started drawing the concept maps for this project, I kept finding some questions about in/visibility and absence. I conceptually knew this to have been a recurrent theme, it seemed to belong here too — in its most simple form: what happens when nothing, no drawing/contact happens, but I hadn’t got a sense how/why.

One medium I have continued to struggle with has been that of 1:1 performances or even of devising solo ones. It seemed futile, insignificant, compared to the materials that I would come across and find and develop further from an initial find.

Last week I did however pick up the idea and it was a simple one: to walk into the verge, and then later: to purposefully walk towards a point (in this case, a single apple). These developed over a few days and became some investigations into gravity, movement, our initiation and observation of these (it is also a lot more, but let me see how I want to articulate that).

The ‘verge’ is one of the wild flower borders in my parents place. It continues from there to two apple trees and later a walnut tree (all in early October).

This is the FB post and commentary I wrote about it and which explores ‘absence’ at the heart of the project’; I am also including another post on failure, which is similarly relevant, given my concerns about smallness of the subject matter.

  1. sweet Rambour

he is already my substitute. i ask her first, she is not keen: i don’t think i can operate your phone camera. he, as usual, is as keen as i usually am. when we walk down, we walk underneath the walnut tree and as on the days before, we step on nuts, on cracked nuts and on empty mushy shells. i say what i would like to do. it sounds simple. it sounds again too little. i am tempted to apologise and then think better. he says: so you want test what happens when you step off the marked way. i nod and explain him the camera and what i would like him to do.
he does it (beautifully). and we acquire this sketch.
later, she asks: are there more walnuts. i say: what do you mean? of course there are. if you asked me if i specifically stepped on some i hadn’t stood on before, i can’t say (but perhaps i should).

Comments
  1. Gesa Helms [i cut myself out of the video. it doesn’t work. it’s not the important bit (but i may need to know what bit that centre bit of myself is).]
    Edit or delete this
Gesa Helms — in this, underneath the walnut tree and later, early in the morning i discover why i had not removed the absence from the course instruction. it is clear. it resides in the mobility and it is an absence of site. it turns everything mushy and small and fleeting from what was before. it sits right at the heart of things, i have been practising it for a couple of years and it’s as simple as that.
Edit or delete this

 

 

2. just after, I write this on failure:

earlier, still, i write a note on failure. the failure is obvious. i speak of it on the second phone call. the first one was mainly my silence, after stuttering: it’s not good. then i am silent again.
the failure is simple, i try to bypass it, to make it non-consequential but it sits at the heart of things. it pounds with a steady beat. it was what invited me in. and now it just evades, i reach my hand out and it remains nothing. not a single thing.
i offer a reason, i don’t think he believes what i offer though he sees the consequences and hears ‘i don’t want to talk about this’ and ‘that is enough now’.
.
let me turn to the note. it is a line through the year, you can fill in the gaps (you will know a few of them).
.
.
The form that folded onwards and sought to become different, other, more, and different again. The final piece in the room contained precisely that: an instruction of a performance for one. Folding, opening, folding again.
He admired my enthusiasm. He mistook my accent and my determination.
In the grass there was everything I desired for this. Like that.
I say later: I don’t care.

Image may contain: plant, nature and outdoor

kaleidoscope / revisited

inadvertently I revisited the kaleidoscope images from right at the start of this. I had printed a few dense shrubbery images from the verge/weed series on inkjet to work on, but hadn’t really moved much with that yet. yesterday, while waiting I started folding and it became an inside/outside viewing device/ lens/ focussing object. I took some more with me and will explore a little further.

the initial kaleidoscope images were: spatial praxis play (2: kaleidoscope)

(elsewhere/ otherwise I took a series of routes through drawing/contact and what that concept of near space could be, as set out in the forward plan after the previous BoW tutorial. I am now beginning to review, move and assemble what is there so; will send the overdue Part 2 for Research off in the next couple of weeks and then assemble Part 3 of BoW (for this, I still want to do a small number of enquiries, pursue questions that got raised, these notably concern a couple of larger drawing pieces or more sustained working in series and iteration)).

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