Office

Hello, it has been a while since we have written on the blog. This is for a number of reasons:

1. Lost the password

2. Can’t remember how (not me)

3. Don’t like the blog (design etc – well I have changed it now)

4. Other reasons not specified here.

So the blog, the blog, the blog – blog derives from the word Weblog – a log on the web. Log – a record of things done?

 I used to know a log intimately – it was blue, the cover was made out of that fake leather that always looked quite good so it dishonesty was never a major problem – maybe it was real leather? This particular log was a ships log –  it was used, and still is used (obviously not the same log as all those years ago because that one is full now), it was used to log things relevant to ships – such as length of voyage, tide height, tide times, tide in general, course, heading – things that are very important when you are travelling by ship. You only wrote in pencil in the log (book), incase you made a mistake you could use a rubber to amend.

This here log – which is actually called a blog – even though it is basically a log – is similar – its added benefit (?) is that there is more scope – you can put pictures in or video.

Just worked out the way to cross through words.

The thing is that is it is difficult to do this because i am sitting at a reception desk in an area of North London called Colindale – its on the Northern Line -I am the receptionist here and i have fairly regular interruptions.  Actually in truth, they are not that regular, because if by interruption i mean the work i am here to do, and i do mean that, then its not so much that there are not  – PHONE IS RINGING NOW – what if i ignore it? (picked it up but no one there – rare) – so, interruptions are not that frequent but only because the work load here is relatively light – or more like, its spread out so it is thin, like it stretches out almost perfectly through the hours that I spend here – behind this desk.

The screen is made by Dell, its probably not actually made by Dell but it says Dell on it so it clearly has something to do with Dell – the keyboard is also made of by Dell and its a really great keyboard – what I call ‘functional design’ – looks like this:

(about to insert my first picture)

It looks exactly like this, perfect. I’ll tell you  a couple of good things about it:

1. Keys are certainly good to press – midway between a click and an soft push.

2. Both the return and the enter buttons are really great to press – especially the Enter button due to the fact that there is no protruding casing on the keyboard, so yiou an nestle your unused fingers around the edger of the keys.

3. The choice to have virtually no protruding casing on the keyboard – this is vital – perhaps underpins all other elements (already slightly mentioned in point 2.). Importantly, this creates more space on the desk and you always need more space on your desk – even if you have a large desk. For example, my dad has a large desk but still insists on using a self built (out of plywood) screen stand/keyboard hider – to maximise the space on his desk and not let the keyboard interfere when it does not needs to. You see the thing about the keyboard which i have found eternally annoying that that it has to be directly in-front of you – obviously – but this causes problems with regards to that (important) space directly in-front of you – it becomes taken over. So either get a wireless keyboard – my domestic solution because you can stow it elsewhere when needed – or get one of these keyboards without excessive outer casing.

The main trend in keyboard design over the last 20 or so years has been a diminution of (what I call) ‘outer casing’:

(In some ways though, I do like old keyboards).

WATCH THE OFFICE,  WATCH YOUR OFFICE.

Practical Exercises

They came across this lovely man called Georges Perec. They never actually met him but some of them felt like they knew in more than just name. They though that his thought was simmilar to theirs.

He died of lung cancer four days short of his forty-sixth birthday in Paris, in 1982.

These are some practical exercises they did:

Practical Exercises

Observe the street, from time to time, with some concern for system perhaps.
Apply yourself. Take Time…

Nothing strikes you. You don’t know how to see…

Make an effort to exhaust the subject, even if that seems grotesque, or pointless, or stupid. You still haven’t looked at anything; you’ve merely picked out what you’ve long ago picked out…

Force yourself to see more flatly…

Detect a rhythm: the passing of cars…count the cars…look at the number plates…distinguish between the cars registered in Paris and the rest…

Decipher a bit of the town, deduce the obvious facts: the obsession with ownership, for example. Describe the number of operations the driver of a vehicle is subjected to when he parks merely in order to go and by a hundred grams of fruit jelly…

The people in the streets: where are they coming from? Where are they going to? Who are they?

People in a hurry. People going slowly. Parcels. Prudent people who’ve taken their macs. Dogs: they’re the only animals to be seen. You can’t see any birds – yet you know there are birds – any can’t hear them either. You might see a cat slip underneath a car, but it doesn’t happen.

Nothing is happening in fact.

Carry on
untill the scene becomes improbable
untill you have the impression, for the briefest of moments, that you are in a strange town or, better still, until you can no longer understand what is happening or is not happening, until the whole place becomes strange, and you no longer even know that this is what is called a town, a street, buildings pavements…

p. 50, The Street
Species of Spaces and Other Pieces by Georges Perec (Penguin, London, 1997)

Something has occurred (I have faith in that)

This is a loose description of what has occurred recently.

[There is no doubt that something has occurred, many things have occurred recently – its difficult pin down exactly but with some certainty I maintain that it is something, I have a faith in that.

They had to make a show, making a show is kind of difficult, it’s hard its a real struggle. They try really hard and put a great deal of effort into making this show and there is always something at the end.

They had to make this show and……making a show is kind of difficult, you don’t really have anything you can hold at the end…. it’s a real struggle. They try really hard…they keep failing… but they put a great deal of effort into making this show and there is always something at the end, sometimes they don’t have faith in that.]

Hello…they were really pleased that you came (here?)…..they came up with this idea of a task…quite a difficult one….it is kind of impossible…well it is actually certainly impossible….but they really try hard at it…their task was to make the city in sixty minutes, one hour….but not just any city….not London or Paris or Milan (even?)…..they wanted to make every city….every city that exists and every city that has ever existed…and in just sixty minutes…its really quite….difficult…but always at the end…when the time runs out….they seem to have something….there is always something at the end…they have faith in that.

A: Hi….i am just wondering if you could tell me if the venue has any door that opens to outside?
T: errrr….well…what do you exactly mean?
A: Well….sorry I am probably not being that clear about this….its kind of difficult to explain…
T: [silence/faint noise that is unidentifiable (photocopier?)]
A: Yeah…so we have these doors in our performance space at the moment which open out to the outside world (probably should not use that exact terminology)…they are large fire doors…because we use them in our performance…at a certain point. I was wondering if you have anything similar…like some doors or a door that opens out onto the street or out to a fire escape, but to the outside?(world)?
T: Well…i don’t really know exactly what you mean and i don’t know the venue that well but I could try and find out….so you need a door that opens into the foyer because there is definitely that…why do you want a door that opens…..
A: Its difficult to explain…you kind of have to see it…if you have such a door, one that opens to the outside – the road or a pavement or a balcony or something, then that would be great but if not…well…we can work around that….
T: Right…yeah…okay….so a door…errrrrr….well I will have to check and get back to you…because i really don’t know why you would need that….

Half way through their attempt to build the city they would always have a short break (3 minutes). They needed a break because it was such hard work. They needed to smoke a cigarette or read a book, or sort their hair out or wipe the sweat from their faces…they had these doors which opened out from their play/performance/task space to a messy courtyard with stones. They would open these doors so they could get some air, so that they could see what other people were doing whilst they tried to build…once they saw someone else building (a box) and he had a drill….they needed to collect themselves so they could do better in the next attempt.

A light bulb broke because of gravity.
An ice scraper was use to clear it up.
A figure was drawn around it in yellow LX tape.

How to demonstrate things: (more could be said…):
Its just a series of games….kind of…what i try and do is play three games at the same time:
1. Do an Australian accent
2. Build a frame out of scaffolding using T clamps and swivel clamps and an adjustable spanner –or just hold something or maybe nothing…
3. Explain your actions and justify them in imaginative but also obvious ways (?) BUT always bring it back to what you are demonstrating.

They only knew what they had done after they had done it.

The world beneath the city.

They gathered under brick arches to work out what they had made.  THere, they played another of their games, paused, looked, switched off the lights, and started over.

” The time has come,” the Walrus said, “to talk of many things. / Of phones – and lifts – and suicides / of TV chefs and DINGs”

Lost control. Lost the plot. Lost sight. Lost touch. (Three C’s) 

A quotation from Eric Bogosian: “If you say city to people, people have no problem thinking of the city as rife with problematic, screwed up people.”

They lost touch with many things, like warmth and love and sandwiches, like friendly smiles and swings. Nonetheless, they enjoyed themselves and gained an understanding. An understanding that goes as such:

Somethings are mixed in with nothings and nothings are made into somethings.

 Or

Openning a coffin is equal to openning a lunchbox.

Present Attempt

.

.

.

P.S. Patrick Geddes: “a city is more than a place in space, it is a drama in time.”

If in doubt, go back to what excites you.

It’s 1.5m sq and it can never be folded in exactly the same way as it was when you bought it. It must be old, it is covered in lines and lines are synonymous with age, surely. Some of these lines go somewhere and some of them don’t, quite alot of them don’t.

They’re speaking another language. I wonder what it is and whether she will understand. One of them says the word ‘Sainsbury’s’ and suddenly in this mesh of lines and contours we have something in common. I’m in the middle of something that can’t be folded properly. He’s in a green jacket that looks like it would feel nice to touch He squints in the sun. He has a Puma holdall on his lap, it’s so deflated i’m drawn to what may be inside. The sun comes out and he squints again. I know this place. He is playing with his moustache. It looks itchy and i’m reminded of my hayfever, I sneeze. I sneezed and I made enemies. nobody likes people who sneeze in public. I do it all the time. The sun comes out again, he squints and leaves…perhaps i will never see him again, the man who made me sneeze. One single sneeze equates to an eighth of an orgasm. He leaves and he will never know the affect he had on me.

I eat half a milky way. I drink half a can of Diet Coke. I take a wee in a park. I try to remember the words to the Madonna song: “last night…la la la la…It all seemed like yesterday, so far away, la la la.” Everybody has done this at some point in their lives: pissed in a park, forgotten the words to a song. At this moment in time, I am Everybody.  

I look up. Where am I? Am I there yet? I look down. I look up. Where am I? Am I there yet? I look down… x  1.5sq

 DO NOT TAKE ANY RISKS.

He’s staring at me. I look up. I look down. I look up. I can’t help but see if he’s still staring at me.

I have nothing to say. All the words have been heard before. All the stories have been told. He’s still staring. And he’s not in a hurry. I feel like i’m in something that can’t be folded properly.

A Chinese man, a business man is sitting next to me. He gets up, he leaves. Another Chinese man, a business man get’s in and sits next to me. And i finally wonder where I am in this thing that can’t be folded properly.  

 Present Attempt

Something about window cleaners

Something about window cleaners, maybe.

Something about imagining the city, not a city.

And then building it.

After cleaning the windows. 

ps. We may smoke on stage after all  (pets or other animals are still out)

pps. i forgot…it will come back if it was important… work in progress showings are scary. that was it. 

About the difficulty of structuring

When the playing stops.

Suddenly there are no longer suggestions, but attempted answers. Often wrong. Mainly wrong.

Question: How can you keep asking when knowing the answers will be often wrong, mostly wrong?

It is a leap of faith, into the air, from the window on the 11th floor, from the golden gate bridge/Sad Tally (East side), From the table (37/38mil, 4 legs (one, two, three, four), solid. Every time!) 

You land, pick up your limbs and bits of internal organs you didn’t know existed just to jump again. Sometimes you cry. Not out of pain, but out of sheer frustration.

One day — a fragment, half spoken word, mishearing, consumption of three bottles of wine and some cannabis, exhausting hours of systematic searching or an accident—- you don’t land, but punctuate the first layers of the ground through the “invisible underground proliferation of conduits (electricity, gas, telephone lines, water mains)” Maybe through the limestone and the marl, but not yet to the Beuchamp sands.

Lets hope that tomorrow is One day, but until then, we’ll keep jumping 

Man in the window 2

(Perec p.7.) 

ACT ONE

A voice (off):

To the North, nothing.

To the South, nothing.

To the East, nothing.

To the West, nothing.

In the centre, nothing.

The curtain falls. End of Act One.

ACT TWO

A voice (off):

To the North, nothing.

To the South, nothing.

To the East, nothing.

To the West, nothing.

In the centre, a tent.

The curtain falls. End of Act Two.

ACT THREE AND LAST

A voice (off):

To the North, nothing.

To the South, nothing.

To the East, nothing.

To the West, nothing.

In the centre, a tent,

and,

in front of the tent,

an orderly busy polishing a pair

of boots

with ‘LION NOIR’ boot polish!

The curtain falls. End of Act Three and Last.

(Author unknown. Learned around 1947, recalled in 1973)

Man in the window

Tuesday 15.5

Scene (1) /Fragment (?) (just discovered this programme enables one to over-line text. More programmes should allow that…)

[Continuous noises. cars, talking in all possible languages, sirens, road works and other sounds of industry.  people dying (off stage). multiple shapes and colours and multiple people in multiple shapes and colours.]   

A&B: What Happens Here?

Person on a street: Nothing.

Jo gave us Georges Perec (I wonder who gave Georges Perec to Jo?).

Species of Spaces and Other Pieces

On the front cover of the book there is a man looking through a window. The framing is off and the man looks silly. He smiles and I am pretty sure he is Perec himself. I hope he is Perec himself and if it is not, that is exactly how he should look like. 

“…People in a hurry. People going slowly. Parcels. Prudent people who’ve taken their macs. Dogs: they’re the only animals to be seen. You can’t see any birds – yet you know there are birds – and can’t hear them either. You might see a cat slip underneath a car, but it doesn’t happen.

Nothing is happening, in fact.

[…]Carry on

Until the scene becomes improbable

until you have the impression, for the briefest of moments, that you are in a strange town or, better still, until you can no longer understand what is happening or is not happening, until the whole place becomes strange, and you no longer even know that this is what is called a town, a street, buildings, pavements…”

(look at pages 52-53. Look at other pages too…Published by Penguin Books, 1997)   

Not to just look, but look again and again and again and again.