PM00000040000005930 15: 2012 § Leave a comment
‘Excursions To The Edge Of Town’ is series of walks that I have recently initiated in an attempt to find the boundary of London. Not as much as to draw physical lines but rather to identify the city itself. Its inner relationships between center and periphery, west and east, north and south, geography being just one aspect out of many. The project is still in an early phase and I have managed only a couple of these excursions, destinations of which being totally random. The research goes on shifting the focus of the project from what I photograph to where I go.
How does this relate to the idea of ‘HOME’? I grew up in a small town. I takes good half a day to walk around it. With London it’s a bit trickier. Ambitious even. But that just makes it ever more exciting.
PM00000040000001830 15: 2012 § Leave a comment
PM00000010000005330 15: 2012 § 2 Comments
In the collection of Morton feldman’s volume of essays is one relating to a seminar that he held in Frankfurt in February 1984. Here’s one entry from that seminar:
“There is this marvelous story about Duchamp and an art student in San Francisco many years ago. Duchamp goes to that art school and he sees this kind of tough, macho San Francisco painter and Duchamp looks at the picture he doesn’t know. He says to the fellow, “What are you doing?” And the painter says, “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” Duchamp pats him on the back and says, “Keep up the good work!”
PM00000030000002930 15: 2012 § 1 Comment
Home is where I want to be
Pick me up and turn me round
I feel numb – burn with a weak heart
(So I) guess I must be having fun
The less we say about it the better
Make it up as we go along
Feet on the ground
Head in the sky
It’s OK I know nothing’s wrong… nothing
Hi yo, I got plenty of time
Hi yo, you got light in your eyes
And you’re standing here beside me
I love the passing of time
Never for money
Always for love
Cover up and say goodnight
Home – is where I want to be
But I guess I’m already there
I come home – she lifted up her wings
Guess that this must be the place
I can’t tell one from another
Did I find you, or you find me?
There was a time Before we were born
If someone asks, this where I’ll be… where I’ll be
Hi yo, we drift in and out
Hi yo, sing into my mouth
Out of all these kinds of people
You got a face with a view
I’m just an animal looking for a home
Share the same space for a minute or two
And you love me till my heart stops
Love me till I’m dead
Eyes that light up, eyes look through you
Cover up the blank spots
Hit me in the head
(This must be the place, Talking Heads)
PM00000080000002630 15: 2012 § Leave a comment
Amanda Vincent-Rous writes:
I mainly document social housing projects in London, Germany and Scotland and what I was proposing was to send a few photos around a little project that’s come about where I’ve been photographing estates are out there being demolished but for one reason or another, residents are still living there trying to make a home with buildings and communities being dismantled around their ears.
The set is here (not curated):
Also, as encouragement & source:
120 hours For John Cage here:
AM00000090000001630 15: 2012 § Leave a comment
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Here in Italy on holiday the room I have stayed in many times cannot be home as it is not ‘realistically mine’. As I do not own it. My husband pays to ‘rent’ the room out of his salary so I do not own the space i exist in whilst I’m here.
In England is my home really MY home as I have never paid for it; I do not own the space. I am allowed to be there at the ‘say-so’ or permission of another.
If we accept home as a right of ownership then I do not have a home as the spaces I exist in are borrowed from another.