In the wreckage of my offices, I take fantasy seriously.
I wont ask how your trip was. The clock starts as soon as I open the door.
I’d rather get a whiff of you and make up the rest.
This is a treat
For the non-London speaking audiences this could be described as aiming for b, but getting off at c, to then ride back to b, but miss the stop again and end up at a.
Because in-deed, if not in-fact, thoughts are objects.
Soil, rose quartz, cement, Indian rose wood,
Teeth, bangles, scrim oil and wax.
A skull in a sandwich bag, a calcified dog, the caves of Derbyshire.
Thirst House Cave.
You can’t get any deeper than this.
The outsider, the native, The Ark
A cabinet of curiosities.
Exposure, withdrawal, adaption, resistance
A hand held fan, a calming hand
A certain devotion to laundry.
In Columbian slang nave refers to technological devices – like computers – but a bike too. It refers to their capacity to “shift space”
Along the track I am placing ultra sonic motion sensors which will be triggered as the car rides by.
A linear story line, a fish driver, a footspa, a vacuum cleaner.
A tightly packed forest
A deeply inconvenient corridor
Access and impediment.
Paintings with sculptural demands,
leaning poles, drooping straps.
I would wish you to deceive me with such magic that when I see it and touch it that I imagine I have the woman of my dreams in front of me.
I will be eternally indebted to your skills of invention.
Red Soleil, Sukiyaki
There will be a wooden bench in the centre of the room
A literal but subliminal separation from the main attraction.
A mini apartment and a public square, some dust balls in a glass case
The emotional response capitalist city planning evokes in me.
A fictional polling station, a booth, a table, a round bench
Sometimes you’ve got to break the rules.
— Cathie Pilkington RA,
Keeper of the Royal Academy of Arts