TRIPPING OVER A PLACE STUMBLING INTO YOU 

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Kind of dream scape. Bringing it all together is recreating the studio of sorts, which is itself the place. Adaptability is using what you find. 

 

Semi outdoors, semi functional, the functional outdoors.  Raw material as a place already.  Exposed constructructural integrity. 

 

Being able to feel it without being able to touch it, being forced to touch it, having it blow up too big to see all at once.  A site tipping into you, chewed up and spat back out.  Tripping over a place stumbling into you.  Roughly relatable shapes, a sign post, body, chair, gate, hole, the absence of a person brings out the life of a thing.  Markers of a place as place.  If the only way to describe something is through what it looks like what if it doesn’t look like anything.  Half illegible characters.  Any size and rewritten any way through what surrounds them.  Gleaning. 

 

The air dust in the light, a leaking water trail, are not observational occurrences but evidence of some kind of action.  Some interruption or change, altercation.  The collection speaks to itself through different channels.  Shapes reappear.   

 

What does actually being there feel like when your mind can drift into another place. Waking up confused when you were never asleep.  Amnesia fugue. Re-orientating. Mapping co-ordinates. Still kept in the dark.  Pinning down a thing, packaging it inside out. Empty space all the full thick material in it.

 

Available to anyone but difficult to pick up.  Only backhanded direction. The promise of an information container. You have all the details but none of the article. The evidence is the thing. 

 

If you fell through a barn door backwards. 

 

Where would you come out?