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Strange 'washing up' / 2 August 2011

I was sitting in the grass looking at "Folly" - a Sean Henry installation/sculpture in the Close of Salisbury Cathedral. Sean Henry was there talking about his work and tiny snippets of sound caught my attention; I wrote.

And thought about Ems being waylaid by washing up. There are parallels here; responding in words to other peoples' artwork makes me feel as if I have done something worth-while and puts my frustration on hold.

Words are so brilliant. Here they are, just waiting to be found; to be teased out or invented; jostled together in endless combinations and hopefully, recorded. I enjoy making the creative response to artwork, but it doesn't usually have any connection to my own, which is why I thought about Ems and the washing up...

I stood looking this way
for four years. Facing
the bed, contemplating
his sleeping figure;
the crumpled bedclothes and
the head-shaped hollow
in the other pillow.
The process claimed me
and identified me.
I never looked
outside the frame.

Yet here everything changed.
The bed sits beyond
my peripheral
sight. I face the unknown
yet I never look
past my expectations.
My mind trapped by the
invisible mirror,
I never look
outside the frame.

The children who touch him,
who run their fingers
lightly over his hair?
He belongs to them
and the women who perch
in the gap between
pillow and grey duvet.
They take him away;
digital capture that
doesn't exist
outside the frame.

But I am working. The embryo project creeps forward inside my crip computer. I save it in a different drive and wonder if I'll ever find it again; or find the resources to break it out of virtual reality. In pixels, the grab rails are taking shape.

Perhaps I should be wondering how to make this a meaningful digital experience, but then I would need new software, new skills and a new computer. The world is endlessly exciting and, one way or another, a constant battle for access.

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