Part Two

What we call form is love. – Ernst Toller

The craft of meaning. The dance of meaning. Meaning made.

What is meaning in matter and movement? Is the act in either its own meaning? Craft comes from matter. From the material fact. Ideas are matter also. Dance like smoke rises out of the fire of the body in flight. She dances with her hands and she shapes with her feet. Translation, all of this. Bearing it across, the made and the discovered. And its meaning. What is that, finally and simply, then? Call it the suggestion of something beyond itself? Is that enough, or useful?

There is a higher window here. Different looking lives here. Every little thing breeds change. Too much choice freezes or frails us. To be antenna-aware but not signal-smothered.

Paper-work. Bound and loose. Vessels of latency. Scrolls again. The cardiac pulse. A wave in it. Patterned randomness. Task-work begins to shape the hours. Without a frame, no frameless acts. So, sticks. The rigid object given free-form-flight, if thrown. Like a person nomadic on terrible roads or even, simply here, between the town and the city, the campus and the converted school, the studio and the out-time of residency. The place impacts.

Manifesto for being in a room then… And the notation of this presence: sketch, score, etymology.

And the motive of the room and the being in it. And what if the hand is empty? But is it ever, really? Always a whole life there. And all it has touched. And all the other hands held.

Intention. In tension. Transience is durability. Gathered energy is another form released. Performed. Practical moves. Expressive motion. What is performance and what rehearsal. All is living. Embracing companionable air.

Binaries are no longer viable. Here. In the space of ideas. Of ideas actual and visualised. Made spatial. In time. Evidence. Like the sutured skin of paper stitched. Or limbs as the way to follow. One’s own body leading itself.

A residence then, is it a growing awakeness to the moment of being alive; and whatever might come from that… A retreat, where one re-treats the real. Grants it the wonder it has always had.

London, 19.7.12

Continue to Part Three ›


Gareth Evans would like visitors to the blog to read his posts as a series of 4 responses. Please start with This Residence on Earth and follow the links at the end of each post.

Date

19 July 2012

By

Gareth Evans

Category

Writing

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