Workman, chains, scaffolding, churning up the space and stillness. I sit and watch poles and planks come down, to reveal again the stone skin.
I cannot hide today. I absorb myself in cutting. Long strips of paper, a ritual, like swimming lengths of a pool. Space opening up through the rhythm of the scissors. I attempt to re tune, from above to ground level. My breath plays with motion of cutting too.
A gathering, and so I walk through piles of paper strips, searching. The sound is like walking through long dry grass..white fields..
I record the sounds, it gives me another space, ambiguous shifting.
Public/private/elsewhere
I play back these fragments. I read this.
‘Life is rife with fogetting, and sound is ripe with todays’
En abime – Daniella Cascella,London 2013
