These are the new glasses I am getting. My mum and I tried them on a year ago and decided that they reminded us of Annie Hall. Im so over the BIG glasses and the geek chick look. These ones are smaller than the frames I have atm and are something a bit fun. Cant wait to get them. 
It was not a heart, beating.
you are False.
That muted boom, that clangor
Flesh and grass,
Far off, not blood in the ears
Sirens. Bird eyes.
Drumming up and fever
To impose on the evening.
you know you are false.
The noise came from outside:
it thrills you A metal detonating
you are charmed by their hate,
Native, evidently, to
these walls that,
you can almost see through.
that if you went to the other side
might show the reverse of you.
your negative. the inverse.
These stilled suburbs nobody
Startled at it, though the sound
Shook the ground with its pounding.
It took a root at my coming
Till the thudding shource, exposed,
Counfounded in wept guesswork:
Peisinoe, Aglaope, and Thelxiepeia
Framed in windows of Main Street's
Silver factory, immense
We hung out by the edge.
endless days. blood hot like the nights.
Hammers hoisted, wheels turning,
but you hated it more than you
hated why we were therethis is not death it is something safer.
Although, I admit I desire.
the mute sky. Secretly you prefer it this way.
Stalled, let fall their vertical
Mirrors. Film.
Either way you get to see yourself/
Tonnage of metal and wood;
Stunned in marrow. Men\
white blank.----------- -------, -------
Not secretly you prefer it this way.
Without stop those greased machines,
Tending, without stop, the blunt
reverenceit does not restrict you. Indefatigable fact.
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Some of the best work that I have done has been through
embedding myself within a text. I find myself wanting to
connect with peoples work in order to understand it more
fully. This has been a bit of an experimentin to poetry. I
have taken Sylvia Plaths Night Shift and injected it with
some found text and some of my own. I'm not really
sure if it is a cohesive piece of work but it does form
a starting point for further experiment.
Tonight I went to a couple of exhibitions. The first one I went to was at Felt on Compton street called Margit Bruenner: Sieben Himmel.. A couple of years ago I did workshop with Romanian artist Calin Dan which Margit also attended. The work she was doing back then looked into the "atmosphere" present within areas and space. Her new work follows on with the principles of exploring space in order to discover the atmosphere. This exhibition features video work of Margit moving through chosen space; barren, empty landscapes. Through these video works Margit evokes Antonioni's Landscape, the action is secondary to the landscape itself. Her images may seem unimportant but in actuality work towards creating an ‘environment’. Looking at her figure moving through the image we can, as in Antonioni's cinema, begin to read it for its layers, its archaeology [1]. The centre of the space was filled with a large trampoline, on which the video equipment sat. The trampoline took up the space, was disruptive to the gallery setting and felt in some way oppositional to the movement on the screens. But the Trampoline is not an art object, but an art remainder. In object used in creating another archaeology. On the walls of the gallery were covered in layers of tiny intricate scribblings. An exploration of the movement created through the addition of the trampoline. These drawings are also a remainder, a recording of the act of discovering layers of atmosphere.
The second exhibition was a large group show at the Queens theatre called Big. It was a production by Format and the 2% collective. It was really exciting to see such an enormous show put on involving so many artists across so many disciplines. The best thing was the number of people who showed up to support the event, the building was buzzing with an amazing atmosphere. The piece that caught my eye was a work by Mark Niehus, a local poet/artist. The piece involved an only desk, a wonderful typewriter and a poem on a single piece of paper (will load a photo later). The space that it was in was a large hall to the left of the entrance to the theatre. Surrounding were video pieces by a number of artists and central sat the desk with the single piece of paper stretching towards the towering ceiling. Just to the left sat another smaller desk with copies of a poem and a sign inviting viewers to take one home. The most important ideal of this exhibition is the way it embraces: the large number of quality artists, the exploration of concepts and also the invitation for the viewers participation. Well done to Format + 2%.
1. Marks, L., A Deleuzian Politics of Hybrid Cinema. Screen, 1994. 35: p. 224.
