*The Spirit of the Place
I could see a tall sliver of frothy motion through the slatted angle of two
doors ajar and sensed the rub of the river soaking inland underfoot. All I
heard was the roar of water ricocheting echoes off the cement-floored kitchen,
past the ancient monk's water font and the oven doors, past the cutlery and the
peeling paint. The dust of riverbed residue waited undisturbed beneath the
cooker, and cracked like brown savannah on porcelain plates shelved waist high.
Dust and dry echoes... but it was still damp, just, barely. The air was thick
with tiny organisms. Molds and fungus felt religous, a constant presence, a
millionspore reminder of a fullness, an aliveness, in the dead stillness of the
kitchen.
Later we would watch the river unlit, us two strangers in the dark, with
its cold touch on our foreheads where the water was daubed to show the outside
air. The night felt dense with listening since the slow procession from the
street to kitchen with a metal kettle held aloft, full of water hauled up over
the bridge. (Ringing glass mixing bowls and cassarole dishes, like bells. One
red brick pulled out of the clean white glaze above the fireplace, leaving a
gaping question. Water, water, spit and water. Breath, vapour, mist, flood. Clattering
granite. Massaging stone and wicking water through concrete blocks. Pouring
light up to the floodline. Sucking, swilling, singing the cut-glass tone.
Trapping mist and spilling bursts of wet.)
Now the coping stone waits, grooved for another body to lean and hang
towards the big black sound surging constantly.
*Notes from on site enquiries leading to [1]The
Inexpressible Experience of the Damp World, a site specific performance that
explored the shifting borders and overlaps between the domestic architectural
space, the natural landscape and the powerfuly charged undercurrent of
spirituality in the everyday world.
Live performance, duration: 35 mins.
Materials: granite blocks, concrete blocks, [2]fired
brick, [3]river
water, spit, glass kitchen bowls, kettle, electric light, washing line rope,
dust, mold, silk and voice).
[1] Of useful influence were
textual artifacts bearing the huge significance of spirituality to the previous
occupants of the building. The title of the performance was inspired by an
editorial review in an evidently well thumbed and pencilled pamphlet of former
inhabitant Peggy Hughs: 'Inexpressible Experience' from The Life of the
Spirit ,
A Blackfriars Review, Vol II, No. 17 November 1947.
[2] Source artifacts included a book found
serendipitously on site containing writings on theology and phenomenology: Oesterreicher , John M., The Walls are Crumbling, London:Hollis Carter, 1953.