Jenny

Jenny had a dream that she couldn’t remember.
She had the feeling Britney Spears was in it, maybe
Being fucked by either Jenny or by someone else.

Jenny woke up, had a shower and checked her
Facebook, changed her status to say something
Like “Jenny is wondering whether other people
Have trouble remembering their dreams as well”.

Jenny dried herself off and put some makeup on.
Then she had a nervous breakdown and killed
Her boyfriend. She sat down and started stressing.

Bunnyhug

“He looks like your type”
So I look to where my friend
Is pointing and see
A guy about fifteen years
Older than me with a
Moustache and glasses,
I laugh at the joke –
“No,” my friend’s amused
“Behind that guy.”
Mr moustache moves,
There’s a half Japanese (?)
Boy behind him, floppy
Black hair
Fluorescent bright hoodie
Zipped down open
Nothing on underneath
Because I guess he got sweaty
From dancing in the venue
Next door to where we
Were catching an indie bands
Who always wrote lyrics
That never quite got to
Where they should be getting.
He’s laughing with a friend
Looking back at the door
Waiting for some other friends
Who finally appear, red cheeked
Short skirts, healthy happy
Faces; I wonder about who
Is in love with who in their
Little set of confusion.
Gigs always strike me
As lonely places – the fallout
Of being surrounded by
People like that, with
All the thoughts that
Naturally tumble into
The forefront of your
Clumsy consciousness.
So now I’m on a low platform
At New Street Station
Looking across at the
Opposite platform
Where a train has pulled
Up, stocked up with
Bodies and waiting to
Depart. The boy is sitting
With a friend – skinnier,
Ginger blonde messed
Purposely cheque shirt,
Black haired boy still
Sitting with his effortless
Tiny torso showing, through
Zipped down top, must
Be hoping some drunk
Indie girl is gonna pay
Enough attention for
A fuck. OK so he’s gone.
Back fifteen minutes
Someone else Kanye West
Tour t-shirt but with
Almost scene hair –
Perfect example or
Cross pollination honey
Teens like bumble bees.
Shirtless five minutes
Prior, asks to borrow a
Lighter which I hand
Over by forgetting who
We both are for a second
Hands it back sounds like
He tries to makes his
Voices sound closer
To whatever he guess
Mine might be. I want
To tell him to stand
There forever even if
It means that we both
Freeze together in some
Quiet zone residential
Area that people are
Making architecture jokes
About that don’t make
Sense think people have
Heard jokes on TV that
They’re trying to make
Sense of by repeating
Them in a way that
Swallows anything else,
I don’t know where he’s
Gone and I don’t
Know where I am.

It's getting dark

"It's getting dark."
"Yeah. I'm not blind."
"I know. I just meant that for the late afternoon, it's pretty damn dark outside."
"You're looking for something that isn't there."

John Ashbery

The heartbreaking, beautiful work of Bas Jan Ader

Bas Jan Ader is both well known and little known as an artist. He died, or disappeared in 1975 at the age of 33, in a boat somewhere off the coast of Cape Cod. He was attempting to cross the Atlantic Ocean in a 13 foot sailboat. Why? For Art; as a performance that would challenge the boundaries between art and life. Ader's work pushed the (then) limits. He experimented with film, photography, installation, and performance.


Ader was born in Holland in 1942. He settled in Los Angeles in 1963 after sailing across the ocean from Morocco. This journey took eleven months. Once in Los Angeles Ader studied art and philosophy and became an active member of the Los Angeles art scene, exhibiting his works in numerous exhibitions and teaching at UC Irvine among other places.

Many artists working in Los Angeles during the 1970’s were interested in the relationship between art and life; between performance and photography; and the difference between the art object and documentation of an action. Ader's work fit within this conceptual framework. His performances and actions were well documented and presented as finished films or photographic works. Although conceptual in practice they were also visually sophisticated. He was aware of and interested in the work being made by contemporaneous artists such as Ed Ruscha, Gordon Matta Clark, Robert Smithson, and Chris Burden. Like many of these artists, Ader was interested in his presence and alterations to his surroundings. His body, face or shadow figured prominently in his works as subject and the object.

Amongst Ader's best known works is Untitled (Flower Work) [1974]. This piece, created as a film as well as a series of photographs, presents the artist arranging a vase of flowers. We see the artist’s body, dressed in black, from the hips to the neck. No face is necessary, for we are interested in his actions not his expression. As he arranges the flowers he carefully segregates them into the three primary colors: red, blue and yellow. Through the process of arranging and rearranging, the vase moves from being multicolored to being monochromatic and then back again to an arrangement that contains all three colors. As Thomas Crow writes in the exhibition catalogue, "The performance was his wry homage to and mockery of Mondrian, Rietveld, and the floral clichés of his native country."


Ader’s art continually made reference to his Dutch upbringing, and he often created pieces that suggested he was about to return there. Although he became firmly rooted in Los Angeles, he was always searching, and this search in mind and body became the subject of his art. In All My Clothes [1970] he photographed his clothes laid out on the roof of his house. This was reminiscent of packing a suitcase, a gesture indicating departure. Farewell to Faraway Friends [1971] is a color photograph that presents his silhouetted figure standing where the water meets the earth. Alone this image may be insignificant, but within the context of Ader's work it is both nostalgic and romantic. It evokes the aura of Dutch landscape paintings.

In many works Ader jumps or falls. He rolls off a roof in Fall I, Los Angeles [1970]. He jumps out of a tree in Broken Fall (organic) [1971], and rides a bicycle off a bridge into the water in Fall II, Amsterdam [1970]. He films or photographs these planned mishaps and presents the sequence of the adventure as his art. There is no denying that there is a certain sadness or sense of loss in all of Ader's works. Indeed, he created a film entitled I'm too sad to tell you [1971] in which he simply cries for the camera. The words "I'm too sad to tell you" address the extent of his despair.


For Ader art was a literal as well as a metaphorical journey. He was always searching. This search informed his photographs and films, but also led him to stage happenings, installations and performances. He was in the process of creating The Search for the Miraculous, a multi-part work, when he disappeared, lost at sea. Although his boat was found off the coast of Ireland a few weeks after he lost radio contact, the body was never recovered. What remains of Ader's short career are his photographs, films, and writing. Yet his works continue to influence and inspire successive generations of artists who see art not only as a journey, but as a process of discovery. As Ader once wrote, "The sea, the land, the artist has with great sadness known they too will be no more."

Essay by Jody Zellen taken from ArtsCentral.

1000 doubts (for Paul Curran)

- I don’t think that I could have gotten my friend – who is an amazing visual artist by the way, critically acclaimed as it were – to have drawn this scene any better.
- Perhaps she would have rendered some details slightly better.
- And sometimes the representation of someone – that modernist idea of being able to tell that something isn’t real – maybe that would add more depth to things.
- I doubt that anything could make me feel more excited.
- I was born in the early to mid 1980s. Morrissey once called them the nineteen HATIES.
- You look like you’re a little lost? Would you like me to talk you through it again?
- The room had ten walls, because it had been designed to look, from the outside, like a crystal ball.
- There’s nothing you could do to take me away from the place I’ve found myself in.
- Do you promise that I’ll be able to disappear?
- I’m know how to use suggestive and convincing language.
- You must be scared of something pretty unique because you jump every time someone else walks into the room. I’ve also noticed that when you’re tired you’ve got a habit of staring at the door frame as if there’s someone standing there that no one else can see. I’ve noticed you trying to ignore whoever it is that keeps cropping up in the corner of your eye.
- You talk too much about photographs.
- Have you seen the Cat People? You know the part with the bus?
- I might actually try and describe the scene to my friend and see if she can come up with something as important, just to try and prove this to you.
- I’m not interesting in arguments. I just don’t think that it’s possible to separate things so completely. I try not to be so reductive when I’m thinking about the sorts of things that, let’s face it, are the only things that remind us what our lives are supposed to be about. Can you see what I’m trying to say?
- I just think that comparing those two things is insulting. And I don’t need to be reminded that I’m alive by things that are so out of focus with the aims that I strive for in my day to day dealings.
- Dated back.
- I’m nervous just thinking about you. It’s insane. I think that I’d forgotten that I was supposed to be waiting for you to send me a reply. Now I have I feel like my whole world is in very real danger of collapsing around me.
- The only way to interpret the line graph with its confusing peaks and triangular climbs was to wipe out any of its mathematical associations and stare at it until it started to look the same as any other colourful drawing that you might see hung up on a thin wooden white wall.
- Getting the ice cubes out of the freezer bag and into the glass made my fingers sting.
- Plinky plonky piano like the start of an R.E.M. song.
- You don’t need to write a thesis to get your head about the idea of succumbing. You don’t need anyone else to show you anything. The first time I met you I knew that I was going to die because you would never end up loving me back.
- The same spots of mould sat in his kitchen for months before he gave up drowning.
- The exhibition was made up of over eighty YouTube video blogs (“vlogs”) projected onto the stripped walls of the gallery.
- Choose a favourite word and examine it.

An amusement park in flames

I have this grand plan of building
Huge architectural designs based on
And inside those huge Nothings
That seem to be Everything, that
I’ve spotted hiding between
And gluing together everything you
Say and everything we do when
We’re together.
I’m gonna build churches with
Massive cemeteries that could hold
A billion dead bodies,
And I wanna build amusement parks
With insane rides that explore
The bumps and the looptheloops
The spin around inside the intent
Of the things that you let spill
Out with that beautiful lack of
Elegance.
I’ve got a hard-on thinking about the
Aerial plans of those words,
Blueprints forgetting what they’re
Meant to slicing up, neon strip lights
Forming greeting messages,
Making people feel like this is
The most exciting place in the
World that anyone
Could ever hope to be left.

Amongst friends

Placed my hands round the skull
Just to get an idea because
Things always seem fake until
I’ve actually been able to
Prove to myself that
They’re actually there

If I’m watching a band onstage
I never feel like they’re in
The same place as me

Words are different,

Smoothed my fingertips
Across the bone
Bumpier than you’d think
But also just as much
As you’d expect.

One thing that surprised me:
Not the hollow sound that
I think I would have liked.
That’s when I remembered:
You don’t make choices
About things like that.

You realised you’ve been
Thinking about nothing for
Far too long
When you snap out
And people are looking
Ready for you to say
What you think.

I just passed the skull
Onto the next person
The next friend
Who wanted to look at it.

I could see tears
Forming in his eyes.

Hiding places

They walked across the field and chose what they somehow figured was the best spot, which they did without talking. The nearest road was a ten minute walk away, but because it was so quiet they could still hear the cars.
When they couldn’t think of anything to say, they sat in silence rather than force something. It seemed like a healthy habit to have picked up. The silence lasted just short of an hour.
“Do you think anyone else is coming?”
“Dunno.”
“Maybe we should just stay here anyway.”
“Yeah. I feel happy with you.”
They curled into each other’s arms and gave up on the idea of waiting.

Eventually they were joined by five more people. The conversation was still minimal but the warmth was immense. The person who was meant to be bringing an iPod and speakers didn’t show up so they were without music. The mesmerizing soundtrack was provided by their collected breaths and the passing of articulated lorries hauling bread and milk from one side of the country to another.

At one point there was a brief discussion about an aeroplane in the middle of the night.
“Where do you think they’re going?”
“I dunno. Tokyo.”
“Paris. It’s full of queer fashion designers going to see some catwalk shows.”
“Ha. I think it’s been hijacked.”
“Don’t be stupid.” This was said warmly, so it was followed by gentle smiles.
“Do you think they can see us from up there?”
“No.”
“They might be able to see the trees.”
“We should have lit a fire. They’d have seen us then.”

Never let me know

It seems strange that the original intention of this place was to be fun. Nowadays fifty percent of the clientele walk round with washed out expressions like they’ve like they’ve all seen ghosts. It makes sense: they other fifty percent are so lost they like look like they might actually be ghosts. A man is bleeding to death in the bathroom. His scrotum has been cut open, sliced from top to bottom. His balls are hanging out covered in some unidentifiable gloop – the mess resembles some sort of brain – maybe that of a cat. He’s fucked. An argument has started somewhere. Someone is trying to get their clothes back.

A famous modern artist is visiting. He’s thinking about buying the place. He found out about the building when he was in town for his recent show which attracted several A-List celebrities. After the show he wanted to cheat on his wife.

Lots of things that she needed to tell someone

I thought she’d left.
She kept leaving and coming back again.
She had really skinny legs.
The third time she upped and headed through the exit door
I was convinced that she looked at me
in the same way that I’d been trying to look at her.
I was also convinced after twenty minutes that that was it – she’d gone.

Overheard a conversation by two guys in front of me,
who I think were talking about the first time they saw her
and about how they couldn’t work out what she was –
it was like they were talking about an alien.
I thought that it was pretty obvious that she was male.

Finally caught her attention on her final dive back in.
Sat beside me and stretched out her legs
whispered a question that I answered too quietly for her to hear.

Said she had lots of things that she needed to tell someone.

The tiny sounds that you never hear unless you're on you own

“Do you mind if I film this?”
“Erm … ok.”
“Do you think that you’d be happier dead?”
“It depends how lonely I’d be.”
“You think that you still might be lonely if you’re dead?”
“I don’t know.”
“I wouldn’t imagine so.”
“I’ve given up second guessing.”

***

“Hey ”
. . . . . . .
“Hey”
. . . . . . .
“Can you hear me?”
. . . . . . .
“Can you fucking hear me?”
. . . . . . .
“Can you still hear me?”
. . . . . . .
“You didn’t for one second stop to think about me or about how lonely this would make me feel.”
. . . . . . .
“Can you hear me?”

. . . . . . .-----. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .-----. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .-----. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .-----. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .-----. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .-----. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .-----. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .-----. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .-----. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .-----. . . . . . .

Unsafe

Lukewarm

I’m feeling pretty shitty today. I feel really depressed right now. I just ...[sigh] ... I mean ... If I was in the same state I was in when I first met my boyfriend ...That was tricky for me ... Before I just felt hated and back then if I ever felt depressed or ... confused ... or ... frustrated I would just ... [sigh] ... I used to cut. And I used to have scars on my ... umm ... on my legs ... from cutting. It’s really kinda shameful. Umm ... but luckily I never really cut ... too deep ... most of the time ... to leave too severe scars ... luckily, but there are still scars there nevertheless ... [sigh] ... But you know ... I had told my boyfriend about that and you know ... he had helped me through that and ... and you know ... past that ... and so now, I no longer cut ... but now I kinda wish I could ... I think it would help ... maybe it would help ... but right now ... I really feel like shit ... I ... really feel like crap ... I just ... if ... If my gym was open right now I’d probably go and work out till I passed out ... I just ... mmm ... I guess I just like ... umm ... I just weighed myself this morning and I only lost like a couple of points of a pound ... and I mean, when I started this fast I weighed myself and I think I was something like ... 126lbs ... I don’t know ... ummm ... I guess I’m just really frustrated ... it seems like ... no matter what I do ... my body just won’t let me ... lose weight ... I’m just ... fat ... and I just feel ... I don’t know ... I uh ... I dunno ... I guess ... I don’t know ... I guess this is just a umm ... random ... shitty ... feeling ... that has nothing to do with anything really ... I just ... [picks up a bottle of mineral water and glugs solidly for about 10 seconds – the bottle makes cracking, rustling, loud plastic sound] ... [sigh] ... sometimes it seems like I guess I just wanna ... it would be easier if I could just ... zone out and not care about anything ... and yes I just choked like ... half my water ... but ... this is probably water that I could just probably binge on ... even though it’s not food ... it’s uhh ... not warm ... no cold it’s lukewarm ... so it might make me feel like I’m full ...it may not like burn calories ... but it might make me feel like I’m full ... and I won’t eat ... speaking of which I need to get a new one ... because this is my second one ... I just ... [sigh] ... I hope I’m not like ... the only person ... retarded enough to feel like this ... okay I know I’m not the only person but sometimes I just feel like I really have like ... no one to talk to ... but ... like ... honestly I really like talking to other people ... on the phone ... or in person or whatever about ... you know ... like ... how the day went ... or that ...because I guess it makes it seem like ... I’m not alone ... even though ... like ... I know I’m not because there are other people ... that are talking about the same things ... but even though there are ... I still feel ... alone ... and different ... and fucked up ... and depressed ... and disappointed in myself ... and yeah I’m happy that ... ummm ... I know things could be worse ... but it’s not enough

Often

She picks up the book.
She reads something in the book.
She opened it on a random page.
She smiles at the book.
She smiles because of something she read in the book.
She lets her fingers smudge across the glossy cover of the book.
She takes care not to break the spine.
She doesn’t realise that she’s being filmed.
She stands still.
She still looking down at words.
She tries to work out what her favourite word might be.
She fails.
She moves so that a couple of college students can get pick up the same book that she’s looking at.
She moves back once they’ve taken one each from the pile.

Direction

The room was
cut in half


I chose
to walk to the
left

I'm right
handed

I read a horror
novel once

Said that
the hand you
write with

determines which
way you'd go

if you were
running in
a hurry

like trying
to escape

dunno if
you follow

your writing
hand or go

the other
direction

just remember
that some

guy used
to beat up

his wife
until she

wet herself

then there
were

some metaphors
that hindsight

tells me
were
predictable

but at the time

seemed
like they were
in the correct
place.

Some comedy that cheers me up if I need cheering up

Some comedy videos that I seem to return to quite regularly:

Adam Buxton's doctored version of the very awful Richard and Judy:



Dave Chapelle's Rick James sketch:





And click here to watch his equally funny Prince sketch.

ANY Alan Partridge:


ANY Chris Morris:



Curb Your Enthusiasm:



The Office:



Anything written by Chris Lilley:



Stewart Lee:

Don't say it, because I know what you were thinking

xoxoxoxooxoxoxoxxoxox

------dog skull-------chipped paint----dis
agreements over------nothing ---constant
---wanting to be able --------to tell ----you
things----but then---chickening -------out
setting fire to --------memories --------girl
standing ---watches parked -----car—thinks
----last time ------- friends that fell-----nev
erlettingthingslie-----xoxoxoxoxoxxoxox
---who killed you -------grandparents cup
boards-------conversations you can’t even r
emember---------------former ghosts –trea
ting us --------I lose count ---his logic wasss
------------------------------always ----irreversib
le --------------red flowers can’t bring back
there’s a -------new smell ------you’re hearing
not listeninghearingnotlistening

Last night

Last night I walked through the woods and saw some teenagers standing shouting loudly and laughing round a fire that they'd started. A girl with a grey hoodie pulled up over her blonde hair was standing and squealing, giddy from the pop bottle full of vodka and lemonade that was being passed round. It was a strange coincidence I guess, but it seemed to link a dream I had the previous night. What was really kinda cool was that they didn't notice me. I don't know if it was because I was wearing this big black coat that I've been wearing a lot recently because it's starting to get cold over here, or just because they were really pre-occupied with the good times they were having. Either way, it was very cool because I felt invisible and just managed to walk by them and get this really cool, peaceful vibe without disturbing them.

Visitor's children

-----The visitors stayed for five hours.
-----They talked about
How their younger children
Were getting on at school and
How their older children
Were getting on at work.

"Yes"

Held him against the back wall. He told me to be more gentle which I half took on board.

He was stoned. He said not to get cum on his clothes.

Afterwards when we were in the light, I noticed how tiny his pupils looked.

He said something to me that I couldn’t make out.

Rather than ask him to repeat himself, I just said “yes”//////////////

Ectoplasm

Ectoplasm (from the Greek ektos, "outside", + plasma, "something formed or molded") is a term coined by Charles Richet to denote a substance or spiritual energy "exteriorized" by physical mediums. Ectoplasm is said to be associated with the formation of ghosts, and asserted to be an enabling factor in psychokinesis.

Ectoplasm is said to be produced by physical mediums when in a trance state. This material is excreted as a gauze-like substance from orifices on the medium's body and spiritual entities are said to drape this substance over their nonphysical body, enabling them to interact in our physical universe.

Ectoplasm is a term for a material coming out of a physical mediums's nose, ears & mouth.

Although the term is widespread in popular culture, the physical existence of ectoplasm is not accepted by mainstream science. Some tested samples purported to be ectoplasm have been found to be various nonparanormal substances, including chiffon and flakes of human skin. Other researchers have duplicated, with non-supernatural materials, the photographic effects sometimes said to prove the existence of ectoplasm.

Ectoplasm has become a staple in fictional supernatural lore. Notable examples include Noel Coward's 1941 play Blithe Spirit, and the 1984 film Ghostbusters, in which "ectoplasmic residue" is secreted by ghosts and portrayed as a viscous, cloudy, greenish-white substance similar to nasal mucus. In the film, Bill Murray says the famous line, "He slimed me!", after an angry ghost charges him in a hotel corridor. The sequel, Ghostbusters 2 revolves mainly around the discovery of a new form of ectoplasm, "mood slime", which is shown as being pinkish and amplifies humans' emotions causing them to become either extremely outgoing and pleasant or aggressive and murderous, based on positive or negative emotions the substance is exposed to. It is also capable of bringing inanimate objects to life and used to animate the Statue of Liberty.

Paul Dearman

My good friend Paul Dearman recently had some of his wonderful work on display at Alexandra Palace. I managed to get down there to have a look. These are the fruits.

xxx

long

I'd wanted this shit for so long
that when it started happening
I almost missed it

easy to
light steps
easy trips

blurred movements
trails of red
smudged in
the air

My new favourite place

Assorted shots of a fantastic new art space that has recently been used for a couple of shows locally. Unfortunately so far the art that has been in there hasn't really been my thing, but the actual building, an old out of use railway station, is a brilliant space with a lot of potential - lots of room and also lots of secret little rooms. Here's hoping that it gets used for some interesting things. As for the last few shots, I had a couple of emails from people recently saying that whenever I do days of photographs I never put in any of myself, and asked me to do so next time, so I've thrown in these 3 of me that friends took at said art space. Heh. OK. Take care.

TM x