12.

That That. 2011. Zink; performance theatre, Cape Town [recall]

I had requested to be last on the schedule. The evening consisted of several performances, mostly indoors, running back to back with a short interval…

1. …begin before Josh Ginsburg ends his performance.
2. simultaneously activate my devices whilst dismantling and setting aside his setup.
3. replace his projector with laptop, open and start the movie: a film of hands step-and-repeating the same action over and over.
4. pop down his projection screen and clear the stage.
5. lit-up by cellphone glow, standing at the back, scroll through folders, press play and place the phone on the ledge: a clip set on loop, horn player practicing his cords pre-recorded outside studio window.
6. open the rear stage door letting the light flood in.
7. leave. Out the door, into the light and under a unusually tall ladder which has a spotlight strapped to its head. Walk around the building past Belinda’s projected movie and Linda’s live horse and go observe the audience from the front main entrance.
8. local rude-boy Ant Strack reacts to the perseverating cacophony and storms out. Relief. The potential of an ending.
9. everyone leaves to being beginning a new phase. Outside the theatre, the evening and life, a horse and the mountain, John’s studios and stuff. Freedom from the theatre and the dictatorship of the artist. Time seems more restrainable outside.  Free to start.                     (2011-11-19)

-7.8.

My parents, Dieter and Gail, have a peach and it never ages.

It is really unreal with the fruit’s marble body gently blushed and bruised with pigment, and in its navel nestles the clincher: a real wooden stem… here lies a peach.

When I first touch it I am touched by it, am taken by its ability to convince me and then convince me otherwise.

Here stands something that is and is not, it agrees and disagrees.

This peach, this thing holds a moment when the idea of Truth is questioned.

I am unmistaken and mistaken, I believe and unbelieve.                                            (2012-02-07)

66.5.

Peculiar people peculiar to a peculiar time. Who are we today? Which peculiarities are we letting slip by unhindered? While we sleep the people we elect to govern us not only plot to work our families to the bone but also consider what type of fertiliser our remains will make. The world has not changed much. Our masters, g_ds and own stupidities still have us by the balls. I don’t go for hoping or praying but I do wish that the future holds a looser grip. We all deserve at least the opportunity to create a less predictable existence. Or do we?                                                                        (2009)

265.

Pasolini :

You learn everything in 15 minutes.

< Does it take a long time to learn?

The Lost Pasolini Interview. October 30, 1975, three days before being murdered.

Published by the Celluloid Liberation Front

42.

50 in 2020. 60 in 2030. 70 in 2040. 80 in 2050. 90 in 2060. 100 in 2070. 110 in 2080. 120 in 2090…

35.

grow square tomatoes                           (2012)

33.1.

To Whom It May Concern:

Thinking is a good idea.  I strive to create works and situations that encourage us (not only us as in the art community but also the public at large) to think again and think ahead.  I try to be thoughtful, to be human and to make public these insights and ways of dealing with living in the now. 

For me, working through art is a way and a place to interrogate and reveal the idea of Truth.  It is not only about hard facts but also the poetry of time, life, death, transformation, desire, rebellion, freedom, and conscious and unconscious choice.  The Truth is more erratic than we care to know.  Fortunately works of art are expected to say what they have to say and also accommodate multiple interpretations.

I have spent the past decade working with others, primarily in Johannesburg and Cape Town, in an intense collaborative learning exercise of my own making.  Aside from learning how to make and represent things, I have been privy to diverse conceptual practices that have enabled me to tackle life from a nonjudgmental and paraconsistent stance.  I have also come to know the value of what can come from relinquishing myself to the relationship knowing that our combination would conjure up a third voice; this peculiar voice that whispers ‘unnecessary solutions’.  I have been surprised, endured growing pains and been empowered by these and other co-operative actions which in turn have helped me to move on from being merely a white South African male; I am not myself and this is a good thing.  If you are a chancer, as I am, this is the place you want to be.  Knowing I will emerge loving my neighbour in ways I never expected. Stripped bare by all the stumbling I grow a more able, more considerate, more thoughtful, if not slightly bent, self.  All I need is courage and the willingness to forget everything.

My work encourages me to be not merely innovative and build on what exists but to be inventive and to be open to ‘uncalled-for newness’.  I can only assume that what I share inspires others to open up.  If not, it is at least a series of examples of mindful artistic experimentation, and proof that one needs neither deadlines nor a belief system to make and do things.                                           (2012-05-11)