Sunday 2nd Jul 2017

Pink vague.

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Been working with Paul at Chisenhale Dance Space on LOAD for a couple of days this week. The pair of us have been pinching, swiping, pressing and gliding through a structure that does gentle hand-brake turns. The audience watches a punishing floor as two violins glide away from each other imperceptibly and Beckett disappears into a lacuna. Noun verb noun. August. That’s when I’m presenting it. Across real and imagined borders.

In December I go to a place to make some work as well but I don’t know how much I can say about this because I haven’t asked. What is an artist’s blog really for, then? Nothing. Absolutely fine.

ssssssssssssssssss  s s s s s s s ss      sh   s  s s s  h s h s          sh s h s  sh  sh sh s  hhh

sss   s s     s s s s       s s s s          ss s s s s        s s s s ss s ss          s s s s s s s ssssssss

s  h h h ssss s h  s s

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This morning the steady whine in my ear collapsed into a coastal crash and I thought I might fall out of my chair: man, laptop and Microsoft Word report overboard. Labyrinthitis (nowt to do with David Bowie). And I got up and felt the knotty left hip, and the collapsed, shallow right foot. The eyes, the disease and the body blasted by sex, inhibition, performance, the wrong limits, the recklessness of a rubber band flying from thumb and forefinger. This has nothing to do with turning 30 and everything to do with having been 20.

Apart from that, nothing extra-ordinary this week (except I discovered that the Shrek Is Love, Shrek Is Life video is soundtracked by Stars Of The Lid).

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