A softening of the rocks. A softening of the rocks
Water carriers memory.
Imagine a continual sea haar - your cheeks wet and your hair soaking, slowly. A heavy tick air that makes your nose drip.
A soothing connection. I want you to feel that your body is porous, messy, slipping, of meaning and an edge that is fluid.
When I exited the sea, on to the gritty beach my body pulsed as the blood pumped around, pump, pump, pump, red ears, cold extremities, my fingers are tingling, pink and white all at once. The crevices and holes are the first to be warm, I put my fingers in there, snuggled, the cold is a shock and the two temperatures start to merge.
Have you ever been swimming in the sea when its raining?
We cannot know ourselves as a point of reference in a world that has overtaken us, in the past and future. MURKY HORIZONS.
Moving through the mess, feeling the sense of the day - where are they and where have they been, where are those places when the sea retreats? Shifted, changed. The tide is coming in and the tide will swallow up this place before it's even been built. I wonder what the children of the statue shall even be able to find or do in 2050. A queering of time, a projection forward and back. A place of ongoing-ness. How can I use my side to side-ness and up and down-ness to engage with this place, the tides, the Turnstones as they flap and feed making sounds? What will their habitat be in 2050?
1950 to 2050 – where do all of these years / times happen simultaneously?
Where does landscape, time memory, identity overlap?
How do we note the passing of time?