I have been trying to decide on an image for the paper strip around my chocolate for the Final Show. Struggling with the idea of of branding... see next post.… I decided to go up the Hill with Louise and take some photographs.
This felt really false. A deceit.
So, after looking through my box of materials containing ‘As yet unmade actions’ I decided to take some candles, matches and the inside of a roll of parcel tape.
My intention was to melt wax on the surface of the Hill, inside a ‘frame’, to make a kind of ‘Wax Tablet’, an impermanent print – an ironic nod to Empiricism, as it seems to me to serve as the opposite of a Tabula Rasa, containing previous action within and on the surface of it and so, an ‘a priori’ residual presence.
Also a commentary on the concept of palimpsest with a fluid reflexive relationship, between layers of what is ‘written’ and erasure.
It started to rain as I pitched my tent and talked to a passing dog ( Alfie) and his owner. We heard some shots, which I took to be a bird-scarer on the nearby Pick-Your-Own farm, but Alfie’s owner was not so sure, and was rather concerned thinking it was gun-fire. Not unknown in this rural area, but a bit close for comfort.
Louise arrived and I started work and broadcasting Trace #Crouch Hill.
Several people ‘hopped on’ including this viewer who had joined me before. It was a ridiculous Scope in many ways with Louise acting as ‘straight guy’ , chatting to viewers whilst I tried to light candles in the rain. I found a small wooden toy man figure, which had ended up in the earth
and placed the frame over ‘ him’ / that, to incorporate him in the wax.
This gives an indication of the conversation during the process.
Towards the end, with the dogs getting restless, the wax leaking from the frame and me burning my fingers on the candle’s flame, I decide to just rest the candles on the soil and let the wax flow down on to the soil. Louise left and I just sat quietly chatting to the remaining viewer watching the flames via the Scope and my phone screen.
When the candles had burnt away, I waited for the wax to cool, tool down my tent, packed up and returned home. As I left the Hill, I felt a sense of loss, as I often do when broadcasting alone from the site… a sense of detachment.
Later that night as I went through the Broadcast to save these screen shots I, unusually, had the TV on in the background.
Then I realised that I had been coincidentally privileged to be taking part in a simultaneous global community ritual of mourning and solidarity without being aware of it, and I understood the meaning behind some of the comments a little more ( see link).