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Found by Pat on the back of a truck on Wilson St, Newtown.
Notes to follow…
As reported in the News Just In section of the website, the software taking the timelapse videos crashed on this day, leaving no trace of the movements of Andrew Haining’s Naked Gluing engagement with Push and Pull. Someone had brought a bag of apples into the space and this video was shot while Andrew had a break from his gluing.
And here is the truncated timelapse begun from sometime around 4pm when the software crash was discovered.
Notes and photos to follow soon…
News Just In:
Our Man on the Scene, Nick, just texted in the following late-breaking news story from Locksmith:
news just in:
Nick, our man on the scene, texted me the following from Locksmith where he is minding the gallery:
One of Zanny’s
students is naked
He said it was
about adam and
eve and the
original fixing of
& each time the moment falls
the emphasis of the moment falls
into time differently
if not the present
these caring accretions,
the life that has gone
repeating in place
each time the tongue moves
it moves into time differently
a bundle of precisely-wired blue
& this & this
Kate Fagan, return to a new physics.
The room was as we had left it the previous Saturday, despite the fact that Sam and Yasmin had been living with it – or rather, walking through it as part of their living – for five days. Actually when I arrived in the early afternoon Yaz and Sam were Push Pulling the other rooms on the ground floor. The launch of the Locksmith magazine was happening that night, and so they were at work taking the kitchen table into the lounge-room and the lounges into the kitchen to best arrange the space for book-selling and beer drinking. They bought an over-priced bag of wood to burn in one of those bulb-shaped iron fireplaces for out the back. In the timelapse you see them busying about the top left corner while the day began breathing through the room as wind and light. The breeze registers on the timelapse by a jerking movement of the string and paper dangling from the bike-wheel-mouse-trap chandelier, and the gill-like motion of the orange tape that links the brown to the yellow colour zone. The light registers in reflection, shades and shimmers. I helped Sam and Yaz measure and mark up the wall to hang Sam’s painting. Yaz was enthusiastic about what we had done to the room although she had not registered the colour theme, which goes to show you had to be there. The Locksmith crew were behind on rent. This wasn’t so much of a problem because the landlords were the mechanics a few doors down and they were reasonable and friendly people, but Sam had been avoiding speaking to them and so Yaz told him forcefully that he had to go and speak to them now. Sam trudged out of the room with the look of a naughty boy, muttering things under his breath.
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A MOUNTED UMBRELLA.
What was the use of not leaving it there where it would hang what was the use if there was no chance of ever seeing it come there and show that it was handsome and right in the way it showed it. The lesson is to learn that it does show it, that it shows it and that nothing, that there is nothing, that there is no more to do about it and just so much more is there plenty of reason for making an exchange. (Gertrude Stein, Tender Buttons, 1912)
At the moment I am writing a thesis chapter on ‘objects,’ looking specifically at Gertrude Stein’s prose-poem ‘Objects’ (from the chapbook, Tender Buttons) and mathematician-cum-philosopher Alfred North Whitehead’s lecture on sense-awareness and perception, also called ‘Objects.’ Stein wrote Tender Buttons in 1912, and Whitehead delivered ‘Objects’ during a lecture series at Cambridge University (aimed at physics students) in 1919. In the seven years between the two compositions, Stein would stay with Whitehead at his Lakeside property north of London for six weeks as World War One broke out in Europe. Every day, Stein and Whitehead would walk around the lake and talk about philosophy, while their wives stewed fruit and darned socks.
Decades later, Stein would list Whitehead as one of three geniuses known to her: alongside Picasso, and herself.
In the 30s, Whitehead would work at Harvard and meet a shy, tall PhD student called Charles Olson. Olson would read Whitehead and teach process theory in his poetics classes at Black Mountain College twenty years later. Olson and Stein would never meet but Olson would once (rather enigmatically) refer to Stein as a “chronological fox” in a letter to poet Phillip Walen.