Wet sand is a very different material to dry sand. I bought some sand - it is drying. It can’t dry quick enough. I try to imagine dry sand, but it is just not the same.
Time is going faster than I could ever imagine. It is slipping away like sand in an egg timer. I can see it disappearing. Already it is Wednesday, and it is slipping away.
* * *
Morning never comes too soon
I can face the afternoon
But oh, those lonely nights.
So long sad times!
There will be goldust at my feet
On the sunny
On the sunny, sunny side of the street
Happy days are here again
The skies above are clear again
Your cares and troubles are gone;
There'll be no more from now on
So long sad times!
Cloudy gray times
You are now a thing
Of the past
(And smile, smile, smile)
I want to be happy
But I won't be happy
(he won’t be happy)
Till I make you happy too.
There's a tear in your eye,
And I'm wondering why,
For it never should be there at all.
And your eyes twinkle bright as can be;
You should laugh all the while
And all other times smile,
And now, smile a smile for me.
For your smile is a part
Of the love in your heart,
And it makes even sunshine more bright.
When skies are gray
And you say you are blue
I'll send the sun smiling through
When you're smiling
The whole world smiles with you
When you're laughing
The sun comes shining through
But when you're crying
You bring on the rain
So stop your sighing
Be happy again
* * *
[Tell me did you hear music?]
Wednesday, 16 April 2008
sk: time and tides
Okay I have re -wrote this entry five times now. I am trying to respond to Bethanies last entry, but i think the best way to do that for the moment is to speak to her in the flesh, somewhere less public.
She has many points i wish to talk about, but not here, not now. I think the Blog is probably the hardest part of the whole process, at least today it is. It is the place that makes you the most vunerable. Indeed why should you expose those uncertain parts of yourself, but also why shouldnt you. Honesty: is it always the best policy?
Again it is all about the context and i dont feel as though i wished to be judged on my words alone. I will edit myself constantly in moments of insecurity.
So i will leave it alone for now, apart from a brief list of thoughts.
I haven't updated the blog in terms of keeping up to where i am in the present state of my work, im catching up with myself. Walking the boundary line seems ions ago now, yet here it is my last entry.
So much has happened, so much to tell, if you really want to listen.
For now here is small fragment of possible content or context.
Take what you will from it and make up your own performance with the items listed below:
Use the tide times as a structure to work around.
Coastal Sea Defence, made from Basalt that comes from Germany ( south part) and the Giants Causeway ( north part)
Become a wall of Basalt
Let the Irish Sea batter you down
let the Bass tickle your toes as the swim around you, hide behind you.
Paint a picture
A panoramic
build the layers up over time
Sand them down with an electric sander ( a sand blaster is too expensive at this moment in time)
Use the dust particles to make a beach
A beach that resembles the one in Normandy where the D- Day landings took place
practice on this beach before you go to Normandy
Hire 150,000 soldier to practice with you
choreograph a whole army
do it on a full moon
do it when the tide is coming in
really decide whether you want to work with donkeys or not.
present the beach to the donkey
find the music box you had as a child that plays ' little donkey, little donkey, on a dusty road..'
Got to keep on pushing onwards with my heavy load....
'Some things there are no words for, only shoulders to lean on, hands to hold on to, and hugs to comfort you as best they can. Because you're cared about so much please know you're being kept close in thought, and wished all the strength and comfort you need, today and in the days to come.'
*This message was inside a card labelled 'suitable for terminal illness'.
Just after I'd sat watching my Grandad die slowly and painfully from cancer of the brain, I phoned the doctors to tell them it was over, and the receptionist put me on hold to an instrumental version of Leann Rimes' 'How do I live'.
LDT.
*This message was inside a card labelled 'suitable for terminal illness'.
Just after I'd sat watching my Grandad die slowly and painfully from cancer of the brain, I phoned the doctors to tell them it was over, and the receptionist put me on hold to an instrumental version of Leann Rimes' 'How do I live'.
LDT.
I think being understood is really important. I realise more and more one of the central reasons me and Eleni work well together is because we really understand each other. This might sound obvious, but for me it's very important.
The blog has become a bit of a problem to me. I think it's been really good for other people, but I just haven't found how it helps me yet?
I don't want to use it to qualify what I'm doing, or why I do it, nor to get people interested in my practice or theories. This is probably because I've never felt too good at articulating myself; expressing concisely my area of interest in any way I can read back and find interesting. I really enjoy discussing ideas and ways of working, but somehow when this is in person I feel better equipped to convey a real essence...maybe this isn't true, but at least I feel it to be, and so feel more comfortable doing so.
My other option therefore, is to use the blog as a form of diary, I do feel it's personal encounters and experience that fuel the work, rather than a disconnected commentry or response, so this is the prefered logical opton for me. However this falls flat, as aware that it's a public blog, immediately censors my honesty, both conciously and un conciously. I'm sure if I wrote everyday for a year I'd become oblivious to my 'audience', but at present I can't.
A couple of us were talking about the blog the other day, and I felt a little nervous at the realisation that people actually read it! This may sound naieve, but the reality that people may form an opinion on me based on the blog, really made me feel un comfortable...probably because I'm aware that when I'm clearing my mind of thoughts, I have the potential to sound like a bit of a boring twat. I do hope I'm neither boring or a twat, but this blog, again, is probably not helping my corse.
I don't read the blog. Not because I don't believe anyone would write anything interesting, I could gush for hours about the wondreful people I've met throught this group, I really don't think a more complimentry or generally lovely group could have been brought together, so I thank Alice and Matt for that. It's not that, it's that i've got to know people, and I'm really interested in what kind of things they'll come up with in response to the rules? Maybe I'll read it after the performances? But for me the real interest is how people communicate from stage, mainly as this is what I'm interested in from my own perspective.
I suppose I'm also aware that reading other, articulate and interesting bloggs, may aggrivate my inferior complex, and so are best avoided incase they spur me on to try and compete in a forum which isn't my strongest.
I don't want this blog to become depressing and all about my strenghts and weaknesses, it's the blog I'm finding difficult not me or my self esteme, I'm really quite comfortable communicating better in person...again I've reverted to using the blog as a diary, I'm just clearing this out of my mind really.
I think, to sum things up, me and Eleni both enjoy experiencing things, then finding out how this can be tranlated to others, to paint a picture or create an experience that you can step into to do your hair or make a cup of tea in. I know there are many things we're still learning, but i'm sure things being personal to us and striving to always be honest, will remain central to how we create. I'm sure the blogg for us will continue to be, at best, a diary and so be filled with experiences and emotions, over processes and intellect.
Well to tell the truth that was a good way of getting something out of my system! I'm realising my main problem is not knowing who I'm talking too?
Whoever it may be, I hope you're having a nice day. I'd like to instigate a happening and get anyone who's read this to buy a bounty bar at 3pm tomorrow, I'm sure their sales could do with a boost! Then take this chocolatey delight and give it to someone looking low on glucouse.
Bethaniex
Levantes Dance Theatre.
The blog has become a bit of a problem to me. I think it's been really good for other people, but I just haven't found how it helps me yet?
I don't want to use it to qualify what I'm doing, or why I do it, nor to get people interested in my practice or theories. This is probably because I've never felt too good at articulating myself; expressing concisely my area of interest in any way I can read back and find interesting. I really enjoy discussing ideas and ways of working, but somehow when this is in person I feel better equipped to convey a real essence...maybe this isn't true, but at least I feel it to be, and so feel more comfortable doing so.
My other option therefore, is to use the blog as a form of diary, I do feel it's personal encounters and experience that fuel the work, rather than a disconnected commentry or response, so this is the prefered logical opton for me. However this falls flat, as aware that it's a public blog, immediately censors my honesty, both conciously and un conciously. I'm sure if I wrote everyday for a year I'd become oblivious to my 'audience', but at present I can't.
A couple of us were talking about the blog the other day, and I felt a little nervous at the realisation that people actually read it! This may sound naieve, but the reality that people may form an opinion on me based on the blog, really made me feel un comfortable...probably because I'm aware that when I'm clearing my mind of thoughts, I have the potential to sound like a bit of a boring twat. I do hope I'm neither boring or a twat, but this blog, again, is probably not helping my corse.
I don't read the blog. Not because I don't believe anyone would write anything interesting, I could gush for hours about the wondreful people I've met throught this group, I really don't think a more complimentry or generally lovely group could have been brought together, so I thank Alice and Matt for that. It's not that, it's that i've got to know people, and I'm really interested in what kind of things they'll come up with in response to the rules? Maybe I'll read it after the performances? But for me the real interest is how people communicate from stage, mainly as this is what I'm interested in from my own perspective.
I suppose I'm also aware that reading other, articulate and interesting bloggs, may aggrivate my inferior complex, and so are best avoided incase they spur me on to try and compete in a forum which isn't my strongest.
I don't want this blog to become depressing and all about my strenghts and weaknesses, it's the blog I'm finding difficult not me or my self esteme, I'm really quite comfortable communicating better in person...again I've reverted to using the blog as a diary, I'm just clearing this out of my mind really.
I think, to sum things up, me and Eleni both enjoy experiencing things, then finding out how this can be tranlated to others, to paint a picture or create an experience that you can step into to do your hair or make a cup of tea in. I know there are many things we're still learning, but i'm sure things being personal to us and striving to always be honest, will remain central to how we create. I'm sure the blogg for us will continue to be, at best, a diary and so be filled with experiences and emotions, over processes and intellect.
Well to tell the truth that was a good way of getting something out of my system! I'm realising my main problem is not knowing who I'm talking too?
Whoever it may be, I hope you're having a nice day. I'd like to instigate a happening and get anyone who's read this to buy a bounty bar at 3pm tomorrow, I'm sure their sales could do with a boost! Then take this chocolatey delight and give it to someone looking low on glucouse.
Bethaniex
Levantes Dance Theatre.
Tuesday, 15 April 2008
04_NC: the current conditions
I’ve been thinking about the Rules & Regulations and then I’ve been thinking about the ‘conditions’, the practical rules. The ones that make sure we don’t all end up making 12 hour durational performances 15 miles away from each other.
In some ways they give me more of a lever to work against they are tighter, harder to shy away from or bend to your advantage, they are very clear. It sets limits for the time, the space and I am grateful for these limitations. Otherwise I would be trying to make something longer, bigger and we simply don’t have the time. Keep it simple, keep it focused, pursue something don’t get distracted. That is what I keep telling myself. But my brain doesn’t work like that. I have to think big, to make small. I have to try everything to settle on something and eventually something sticks. At the moment it is the glasses, it is the sand, it is the structure. It is a red light bulb and attention to sound. Perhaps with a little bit of salt. Many things have been left behind.
It feels like now it is time to start fixing, interrogating what is here rather than looking elsewhere.
When you make a piece of work you usually come with a set of ideas, visions, questions, propositions, you have a desire that pushes you to make something. Coming to this project with a blank canvas means the first two weeks have been about engaging in the rules. Finding where our desire meets these rules. How can these rules propel us towards a piece?
Playtime is over, its down to business. It’s time to make some decisions so there is time to change.
In some ways they give me more of a lever to work against they are tighter, harder to shy away from or bend to your advantage, they are very clear. It sets limits for the time, the space and I am grateful for these limitations. Otherwise I would be trying to make something longer, bigger and we simply don’t have the time. Keep it simple, keep it focused, pursue something don’t get distracted. That is what I keep telling myself. But my brain doesn’t work like that. I have to think big, to make small. I have to try everything to settle on something and eventually something sticks. At the moment it is the glasses, it is the sand, it is the structure. It is a red light bulb and attention to sound. Perhaps with a little bit of salt. Many things have been left behind.
It feels like now it is time to start fixing, interrogating what is here rather than looking elsewhere.
When you make a piece of work you usually come with a set of ideas, visions, questions, propositions, you have a desire that pushes you to make something. Coming to this project with a blank canvas means the first two weeks have been about engaging in the rules. Finding where our desire meets these rules. How can these rules propel us towards a piece?
Playtime is over, its down to business. It’s time to make some decisions so there is time to change.
Monday, 14 April 2008
I've spent the weekend without Eleni.
She's been in Greece performing the piece we were touring, so I'm very jealous as well as lonely.
We're half way through the project and I can't believe how fast it's all gone. When you think a month, it feels like a long time, but it's going by so quickly! It's been a really good experience so far, it's so nice to have the time to concentrate on our practice, it feels like I've learnt more about myself and what I'm interested in, in the past couple of weeks, than I have in a long time. I think it's just the different way of working I'm not used to, me and Eleni are together all the time and always working towards a performance or creating something, but then there's the forty hrs a week at a shit job which depresses you beyond belief, to contend with at the same time. I think the head space and rest from 'up selling' side orders has done me the world of good.
I'm still not really sure what to write on a blog, when I read it back it all sounds so boring, can't imagine who else is reading it? But then I suppose it's just supposed to be a cathartic way to express myself.... I never have been too good with doing that with words.
There's nothing I really want to say about the piece? We've not really set anything yet, but it has been good having rules to work with, both of us find it easier creating material we find interesting, but alot of the links can be fairly tenuous and hard to find; having rules has at least meant the material we have so far, all has an under lying link.
I have a lovely rash on my face today, which is making me feel attractive. That combined with my inability to write any thing particularly interesting and the knowledge that Eleni is doing a radio interview in Greece, is all making me feel rather glum and self pitying.....god Bethanie get a grip , and stop writing stupid things that make you look like a tit..oh no can't stop typing rubbish!!!!!! Arghhhhhhhhh!
I will be 26 on Thursday. We're going to Blackpool.
We've been thinking of births, deaths and marriages for situations you both internalise and are bound by.
I'm going now as I'm even boring myself.
I promise to pray to Jesus for more chirpiness before bed tonight.
Waffle, waffle
Bethanie x
She's been in Greece performing the piece we were touring, so I'm very jealous as well as lonely.
We're half way through the project and I can't believe how fast it's all gone. When you think a month, it feels like a long time, but it's going by so quickly! It's been a really good experience so far, it's so nice to have the time to concentrate on our practice, it feels like I've learnt more about myself and what I'm interested in, in the past couple of weeks, than I have in a long time. I think it's just the different way of working I'm not used to, me and Eleni are together all the time and always working towards a performance or creating something, but then there's the forty hrs a week at a shit job which depresses you beyond belief, to contend with at the same time. I think the head space and rest from 'up selling' side orders has done me the world of good.
I'm still not really sure what to write on a blog, when I read it back it all sounds so boring, can't imagine who else is reading it? But then I suppose it's just supposed to be a cathartic way to express myself.... I never have been too good with doing that with words.
There's nothing I really want to say about the piece? We've not really set anything yet, but it has been good having rules to work with, both of us find it easier creating material we find interesting, but alot of the links can be fairly tenuous and hard to find; having rules has at least meant the material we have so far, all has an under lying link.
I have a lovely rash on my face today, which is making me feel attractive. That combined with my inability to write any thing particularly interesting and the knowledge that Eleni is doing a radio interview in Greece, is all making me feel rather glum and self pitying.....god Bethanie get a grip , and stop writing stupid things that make you look like a tit..oh no can't stop typing rubbish!!!!!! Arghhhhhhhhh!
I will be 26 on Thursday. We're going to Blackpool.
We've been thinking of births, deaths and marriages for situations you both internalise and are bound by.
I'm going now as I'm even boring myself.
I promise to pray to Jesus for more chirpiness before bed tonight.
Waffle, waffle
Bethanie x
simone: beating the bounds ( with the patter of feet and fingers)
Having just spent too long constructing my writing into the imaginary border of Blackpools district, the bloggs seems to like a more linear approach. Therefore a straighter version for you all about my other visit to Blackpool. I already feel behind on my blogging status so i defeatedly give you my wandering thoughts and feet in a straight line of words. If anyone has any tips on how to be more adventurous in the layout of this blog please do send me some advice. It does not translate the constructed page onto the published post. I am apologising already, this does not put me in a favourable mood. A much more deflated version to follow...
I trace the border of Blackpool and highlight it on the map. i take a piece of string and measure the distance. Its about twenty miles, including the sea front. The thing that stumps me is that the border continues out to sea. I dont have a boat to follow that part of the border line. I stay on land. The beating of the bounds ritual is an action that was supposed to bring communities together, a celebration of us and the land we inhabit.
So i start here , where the sea starts / stops. its the North Pier. The sun is out. The concrete seperates me form the sea. KEEP OUT.
I talk to a guy who is fishing. He explains that he is on the corner of the wall. The Bass prefer fast flowing water.I watch it skidding around the shape of the wall. I like his tactics, but he says he has not caught anything for a month. The Codling season soon ( they get braver, come close because of the dirty water) then he will only keep the ones that look older than 5 years, otherwise he throws them back, got to keep the numbers up.
The old boating lake now full of tyres and go-carts still locked away in containers. The fisherman told me this place was completely flooded in the winter. I imagine the rusting go-carts floating in the darkness of the containers. What will the new season bring. We talk about the strength of the tide.
I think about the tide and how uncertain it seems to me here. I think about surfing and how dirty the water is, do people still go swimming here? is it safe? . This walk is making me miss the pembrokeshire coast, its clean water, quiet surf spots yet to be explored and its un concreted edges. Walking makes me too nostalgic sometimes. All these imagiinings and imaginary lines I am following. Yet still i am very present in the coastal wind, its all good.
Dont go down there, people have not come back.someone leaves a note. I dont know who wrote this.
'Piece by piece, I re enter the world.
A new body, A new voice.
Birds console me by flying,
Trees by growing,
dogs by the warm patch they leave on the sofa.
Unknown people merely by performing their motions.
It is like a slow recovery from a sickness, this recovery from ones'self.'
A few weeks ago, a taxi driver told me what he was doing on his weekend off. He said he was taking the grandkids to go see the ship that was stuck on Blackpool beach. He said the kids loved it and it was their third time back. Its better than the telly he said. they love it.
I had forgotten about this conversation and the story about the ship that had been on the local news.
Then i saw it.
it is true , it is better than the telly, its quite surreal.
It gave me motivation to keep walking in that direction, growing in size as i sped up. I felt excited, just like those grandkids probably.
When i get close up , im stopped by a security guard. there is a 400 metre no go zone around the boat. I can see its name.
RIVERDANCE
Get up Riverdance. Show us your tricks , show them your size and style. Its not even trying, defeated by the sand bank.
It looks dead, like a beached whale, like my broken double bass, laying on its side. Everything is still inside, the contents. they will start to cut it up soon.
It does make me think about the coastal motions and getting lost in your tracks, or caught in the tide. This boat has lost its way. I think about migrating sandbanks. They move faster than this boat now.
The boat is right on the border of the cleveleys and Blackpool beach. The cornered off area means i have to walk around the edge of the imaginary border. I get to the start of the border line where i walk away from the sea.
There is a sign on the sea wall.
I head along the street right on the border line, it feels great to be right on it.But not for long, i have to take detours to get round train tracks. With this imaginary border always in sight , it begins to cut houses and churches in half . I have to start watching it in my minds eye. i follow main orads and get lost in a cul de sac. I ask a local resident the way out. I continue into fields and farm houses beside me. i dont want to tresspass so i follow the line again with my eye, walking parrallel to it. So close yet so far. As the crow flies i am weaving in and out and here and there. I think i must be adding up quite a few extra miles.
I am surprised at how suburban the outskirts are. that sounds like a silly thing to say- okay , i was expecting it to be much rougher, maybe ill get to those places later , but for now its all a bit quiet.I can still see the tower every now and again creeping into the horizon
My feet dont feel like they are beating the bounds anymore.
After six hours i feel like the bounds are beating me. No not really, but i do have this pain in my hip socket from the continuous grinding away.
It is this that reminds me of another longer walk, across the yorkshire moors. The Lyke Wake walk challenge. 40 miles in 20 hours. I get lost in a bog at the 18th hour , my hips are teling me its allover.
They are telling me again today.
I head of the imaginary line to the trainline, homeward bound.
I trace the border of Blackpool and highlight it on the map. i take a piece of string and measure the distance. Its about twenty miles, including the sea front. The thing that stumps me is that the border continues out to sea. I dont have a boat to follow that part of the border line. I stay on land. The beating of the bounds ritual is an action that was supposed to bring communities together, a celebration of us and the land we inhabit.
So i start here , where the sea starts / stops. its the North Pier. The sun is out. The concrete seperates me form the sea. KEEP OUT.
I talk to a guy who is fishing. He explains that he is on the corner of the wall. The Bass prefer fast flowing water.I watch it skidding around the shape of the wall. I like his tactics, but he says he has not caught anything for a month. The Codling season soon ( they get braver, come close because of the dirty water) then he will only keep the ones that look older than 5 years, otherwise he throws them back, got to keep the numbers up.
The old boating lake now full of tyres and go-carts still locked away in containers. The fisherman told me this place was completely flooded in the winter. I imagine the rusting go-carts floating in the darkness of the containers. What will the new season bring. We talk about the strength of the tide.
I think about the tide and how uncertain it seems to me here. I think about surfing and how dirty the water is, do people still go swimming here? is it safe? . This walk is making me miss the pembrokeshire coast, its clean water, quiet surf spots yet to be explored and its un concreted edges. Walking makes me too nostalgic sometimes. All these imagiinings and imaginary lines I am following. Yet still i am very present in the coastal wind, its all good.
Dont go down there, people have not come back.someone leaves a note. I dont know who wrote this.
'Piece by piece, I re enter the world.
A new body, A new voice.
Birds console me by flying,
Trees by growing,
dogs by the warm patch they leave on the sofa.
Unknown people merely by performing their motions.
It is like a slow recovery from a sickness, this recovery from ones'self.'
A few weeks ago, a taxi driver told me what he was doing on his weekend off. He said he was taking the grandkids to go see the ship that was stuck on Blackpool beach. He said the kids loved it and it was their third time back. Its better than the telly he said. they love it.
I had forgotten about this conversation and the story about the ship that had been on the local news.
Then i saw it.
it is true , it is better than the telly, its quite surreal.
It gave me motivation to keep walking in that direction, growing in size as i sped up. I felt excited, just like those grandkids probably.
When i get close up , im stopped by a security guard. there is a 400 metre no go zone around the boat. I can see its name.
RIVERDANCE
Get up Riverdance. Show us your tricks , show them your size and style. Its not even trying, defeated by the sand bank.
It looks dead, like a beached whale, like my broken double bass, laying on its side. Everything is still inside, the contents. they will start to cut it up soon.
It does make me think about the coastal motions and getting lost in your tracks, or caught in the tide. This boat has lost its way. I think about migrating sandbanks. They move faster than this boat now.
The boat is right on the border of the cleveleys and Blackpool beach. The cornered off area means i have to walk around the edge of the imaginary border. I get to the start of the border line where i walk away from the sea.
There is a sign on the sea wall.
I head along the street right on the border line, it feels great to be right on it.But not for long, i have to take detours to get round train tracks. With this imaginary border always in sight , it begins to cut houses and churches in half . I have to start watching it in my minds eye. i follow main orads and get lost in a cul de sac. I ask a local resident the way out. I continue into fields and farm houses beside me. i dont want to tresspass so i follow the line again with my eye, walking parrallel to it. So close yet so far. As the crow flies i am weaving in and out and here and there. I think i must be adding up quite a few extra miles.
I am surprised at how suburban the outskirts are. that sounds like a silly thing to say- okay , i was expecting it to be much rougher, maybe ill get to those places later , but for now its all a bit quiet.I can still see the tower every now and again creeping into the horizon
My feet dont feel like they are beating the bounds anymore.
After six hours i feel like the bounds are beating me. No not really, but i do have this pain in my hip socket from the continuous grinding away.
It is this that reminds me of another longer walk, across the yorkshire moors. The Lyke Wake walk challenge. 40 miles in 20 hours. I get lost in a bog at the 18th hour , my hips are teling me its allover.
They are telling me again today.
I head of the imaginary line to the trainline, homeward bound.
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