transience video (6:08)  the other bank text, 2017

after years spent walking through the fields

getting down to the river

and walking along the same bank

(over the bridge

and left)

i once found my way to the other bank

but have since forgotten how

to access it

so i walk on

wondering what the other bank holds

following my feet

which is fine because

truth be told

 ( it is )

i really like walking

if i could walk 500 miles

then i could walk 500 more

i’d be the man to walk 5000…


john cage’s dad was an inventor

who used to say how

he got most of his work done in his sleep

i don’t sleep very much so that statement for me’s a bit


( ha )

but i do walk a lot

and i think with my feet so this suits me just fine

and i’m walking now so i’m thinking about



the best way to make plantain frittas


how the world might be a better place if it weren’t for

erectile dysfunction

dogs dream in

septum piercings

and how to explain it

i don’t think the sentimental’s ever looked so psychedelic

i create something unashamedly autobiographical

and that is how it looks

i bet it makes the prospect of being me seem quite appealing doesn’t it?

that piece

(not this piece

the other one)

is a film about a period of change in my life

a period where multiple large changes were occurring around me





but most of all it’s a film about change

how change is

the inevitability of it

fluid flow

untouchable by human hands

try how they might 

( note:


my hand clutching a pane of glass; bending / reflecting the light as if it were some metaphor for the lens

as if the artist

( me )

was trying to



change with their creative act )

which you can’t

no way

you cannot change the world with the creative act

but you can create things which

in turn

can greatly alter perspective

and alteration of perspective can change the world more than tectonic shift

i wonder what you’ll see when you look at it

i wonder what i’ll see when i look back on it tomorrow


( current )

viewpoint 1

from my future standing in viewpoint 2

will i be up high?

looking down

and how much will i be able to make out with

( what i’m assuming will be )                                                           a mountain of accumulated clutter gathered at the 1.5

i wonder what the grass will look like

green          ( ? )

er( ? )

or otherwise

( psychedelic? )

because the grass is always greener over the way

actually no

grass is never greener anywhere

if you want to make grass green

bend down

pick up a stem

and position its back to the sun

hold it high

and observe how it practically glows


also have fun recovering from a temporary self induced blindness

( idiot )

grass is never greener

grass is just


i’m rambling

been carried off by my own two feet

i fear this is fast not becoming a ( coherent ) piece of ‘art’


but a shaggy dog story

                                      without the shaggy dog

  a plot




just words

and lots of

abstract symbols

sign posts pointing to sweet fuckall

arcane shit

we’ve got onto bad words now

and to think that all i was trying to do was give you an insight into a piece of art i’d made

( not this piece

the other one )

i heard of a guy once

who spoke in figure of eights

figures of eight ( elliptical like )

a lecturer at UCL who talked on post structuralism


but it would be after one of these

sustained logical impasses


when you

sitting top left of the C1 riding on through Kentish Town

sacrificing you seat to a lady with a ‘baby on board’ as she boards the bus

head puzzling over a thousand and one things

                                                                                   like dinner


existential philosophy


the effect that viagra might have on

ten tons of bird

song from the end of


nothing in particular

that you gleam something

that through the sum total of his words

you understand


and now i bet you think this piece will have a similar effect

but it won’t

i’m sorry

it’s nothing special

i’m not even a real artist

if i was i would’ve gotten one of them

old school slide projectors

motor whirring ambience

slowly ratcheting its way round

all flickering and dusty

dirty in its own authenticity.

my text blown up big from the acetate

or glass

hand scrawled in a fine tipped sharpie

and magnified along with some neighboring dust

which is now the godzilla of the dust world

the real thing

but i’m not

your’e essentially reading

a power point presentation                                                     ( because this was initially going to be a piece of work presented on microsoft powerpoint                      )

and something has been sorely missed

land marks

a fence post


a rotted style

my meditation log

the cornfield where i sat one time at sunset

listening to Sigur Rós

carried off by my own two feet

riding on birdsong

and the sunset is coming now

and it seems


which is good because liminal’s one of my all time favourite words

“through the limit”


its unspecificity blooms intrigue

my art has often been described as liminal

generally in place of

“a bit dreamy” or


wouldn’t another word

“hypnopompic” or something

be more a valid fit?


more syllables

look better

on paper

i’m not sure why i’m complaining

as i’ve already said

i quite like liminal

a word that almost

doesn’t need to be said

a nothing word


( almost )

advocating a change of state


without thinking to specify the from what to


i would quite like to try being a liquid

walk from solid to liquid form

but of course

liquids don’t walk

i’d drip into my own footprints

and pool and

( i’ve never had the opportunity to pool before )

i’d drip

i’d pool and

i’d settle

and in the end i’d

half evaporate into the sunset

and half sink down to the water table

where i’d seep


into the river


turn off the almighty.







i feel so sorry for the people who find god

or even

after one of those once in a lifetime jaunts to goa

or somewhere

succeed in finding themselves

every time i go walking i get lost

every time i go for a walk i lose myself

which makes every walk home home a profound rediscovery

and it’s the best feeling to find how the person you’ve found is different from the one you lost


smiling at the 1.5

following my feet

riding the bird song


wherever to

and thinking how

it’s funny now that

after years spent walking through the fields

getting down to the river

and walking along the same bank

(over the bridge

and left)

i had once found my way to the other bank

but had since forgotten how

to access it

over and over

until today

when i simply

turned left

before the bridge

and it was right there

it’s quite like the other bank

( this bank )

but i like it more now that i’m