After speaking with Gillian, I would like to produce a book/ zine.
It will be made up of three true stories, and like Boltanski, i want to use childhood experiences. I say that my work is play and that it comes from my childlike imagination, and now i want to use this in my work.
This is one piece of writing i came up with, it may be edited a little before i print it though:
I’m lying on the ground. The warm grass brushes past my skin as I settle my breathing into a steady rhythm.
I outstretch my fingers into the almost rubbery green blades.
The sky is blue and there are moving clouds.
I am lay besides the church
The building is old but it is strong
My eyes follow the patchwork of crumbling sand all the way to the spire
Lightening hit the weather gauge once and it has been wonky ever since
I become lost in the foreground and background of the sky and spire
They blend into mutual space
The clouds whirl past and I am struck with a sense of movement
The church is moving
I am moving
It feels as though I am being pulled across the floor
Being lifted up and moved
My eyes are telling my body the wrong thing
It is the clouds that move, not me
Not the building
But I am aware of the world spinning and me no longer lying still in the church yard.
Anyway, i have ideas for the death one and the shadow one too.
Alongside these in my book, i want to include different quotes by people who touch on this same subject matter, so Boltanski, but also Ian McEwan, and also concepts and definitions. I might also include photographs of my work. I want this book to be made from tracing paper i think. I want it to blend, merge, but also be hard to read - so maybe print in white ink? So yeah, that's where i am with that.
It will be made up of three true stories, and like Boltanski, i want to use childhood experiences. I say that my work is play and that it comes from my childlike imagination, and now i want to use this in my work.
This is one piece of writing i came up with, it may be edited a little before i print it though:
I’m lying on the ground. The warm grass brushes past my skin as I settle my breathing into a steady rhythm.
I outstretch my fingers into the almost rubbery green blades.
The sky is blue and there are moving clouds.
I am lay besides the church
The building is old but it is strong
My eyes follow the patchwork of crumbling sand all the way to the spire
Lightening hit the weather gauge once and it has been wonky ever since
I become lost in the foreground and background of the sky and spire
They blend into mutual space
The clouds whirl past and I am struck with a sense of movement
The church is moving
I am moving
It feels as though I am being pulled across the floor
Being lifted up and moved
My eyes are telling my body the wrong thing
It is the clouds that move, not me
Not the building
But I am aware of the world spinning and me no longer lying still in the church yard.
Anyway, i have ideas for the death one and the shadow one too.
Alongside these in my book, i want to include different quotes by people who touch on this same subject matter, so Boltanski, but also Ian McEwan, and also concepts and definitions. I might also include photographs of my work. I want this book to be made from tracing paper i think. I want it to blend, merge, but also be hard to read - so maybe print in white ink? So yeah, that's where i am with that.