“Last night there was a thunderstorm and my body was a roiling landscape of static. I couldn’t lay still, or feign sleep, so I left our bed and the tangle of suffocating sheets and wandered through the streets, past drowsy homes full of slumbering bodies.
Our house seemed different, brought to life in flashes of white-blue staccato, illuminating everything we’ve built and collected in a strange new numinous hue. I saw others, formless and curious, finding their way back between the cracks and claps and booms.
They’ve returned to watch over us, to shelter their loved ones as common sense drowns and ancient, soluble wisdom is diluted in the deluge.
I forget who I am as I let them trickle over and through me.
Inside I am nothing but their thunderstorm.”
3:00am Storm 23 – 24 /7/2019
At last! I’ve built a website for nothing other than my thoughts, projects and mental meanderings. This blog will be a diary, an online photograph and video album, a dream journal, a place to ponder and purge and somewhere I can collect the weird and wonderful evidence of things created by myself and with other people.
So much has happen that it’s difficult to know where to start. I will retrace my steps and share writing and projects long since passed, as well as keeping this blog up-to-date with upcoming shows, appearances and events. Don’t expect a linear line. I prefer the collage effect, the messy montage and I’ll share as things bubble up. So many characters, concepts and performances have already been lost in the sands of time despite my best attempts to capture them. They’re willful little things with lives all of their own. I don’t begrudge them their autonomy.
Every single piece was the most important thing in the world for me during it’s conception and creation. It’s the same with every artist I believe, or at least I think it should be. I planned, plotted, scribbled and choreographed, rehearsed or revised over and over and over again, scruntised every detail, made costumes and invented personalities, performed it once for a certain group of people or sent it off to a publisher then let it go forever. André Breton said an artist “lives like an open book and does nothing to retain the pages, which fly away in the windy wake of his life.” So many of my pages have flown away, I’m glad I gave them wings.
So this blog is a way of numbering those pages, as well as other fleeting things, before they flutter off into the world. I’m pinning down their beginnings at the very least.
Image taken from Alan Moore’s Promethea comic.
Header image by Glyn Smith.