The leaves of fall gathered upon the concrete with a blue tone that is stretched across seasonal time to reflect sunshine off cold spring water and make visible to our delight the circles made in sand by spawning fish. The water soon browns from pungent undergrowth to peak out clearer through rippling shoreline. The female mallard and her young duck traverse us, and the shore, onto land and the bird feeder, in profile with such stillness, mother watches us. The pattern of brown feathers almost readable into words: cigarette, ripple, stone still, heat, sand, dirt, socks, crab claws, shells, crows, green leaves, and blue waters, dream away, travel track, dream away, suspension, hold, move.
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It has been all of spring.
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The summer presses down.
The smoke of 220 fires in BC, 175 fires in Alberta, 52 fires in Quebec, 4,3,2,1 fire: A theatre of my museum performance; my performative writing; my auto-collaborative photopoetry:
“… it was in this periphery, on the sharp, invisible edge between spectating and participating, that the work’s most compelling meaning could be found.” (Alisa Solomon about Marina Abramovic’s performance at MoMA in 2010 inn ‘The Artist’s Present, 2010, quoted in Theatre & Museums by Susan Bennett, 2013, Palgrave Mcmillan, p. 2)
glitch36, oct 17, 2021
text, July 17, 2023