Cultural Product

Cultural Product
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Saturday, January 12, 2013

I met another 30 strangers

Victoria Hunt and Aria If not more. Everyday interactions in a recreated setting. Yesterday's guests left marks on me but they are all blending into one. The pearls of wisdom were fast and furious, I imbibed them all at the time and swallowing them whole, moved on to the next. To be present in the moment, thinking of Marina Ambromovich and her 3 months of gazes. The mynahs and rosellas love the tree near the entrance of the park, with red and orange flowers. They nibble and squeak and cluster on it's branches in waves. I have seen 2 mynahs catch insects which they devour on the ground next to me. Leaves blow through my open structure and yesterday the ground was covered by beautiful golden leaves which look like ginkgo but I'm not sure. Must ask someone. Yesterday' eyes, voices and presences penetrated me. I wanted to go home with some of the people. Quantum mechanics was discussed. A physics professor, an engineer, and architect, a lawyer, someone who worked with water, four nurses, an Englishman, 2 Scots with thick accents, a couple who brewed their own beer and were quite drunk and one woman who I said nothing that made any sense to. A couple asked me if I did fortune telling. And a sad lady who was here on a working holiday but hadn't made any friends yet. I felt myself moving into my role as Lucy, the psychiatrist once or twice, but having to re-negotiate my place and transit back to this time, this place, this hope for a tidy exit. One fellow refused the tea so I drank it, but he made quite an impression on me, with his Reject shop bags and sandals. He gave me 2 minutes, which I was grateful for and imparted wisdoms I can't recall. Some people gave, some received, every one of them connected with me on some elementary level. I loved how different people chose to sit and invariably when a couple came in the woman would sit on the tatami while the man sat on the milk crate. Many of the guests had visited Song Dong's installation at Carriageworks prior, and some wanted to discuss this work. I thought about it and how we were creating a memory, a fleeting one that may stay somewhere in the residue of each participant. I was glad that it wasn't an object that I was conveying, rather, an experience. Those clear open gazes loiter in my thoughts, how beautiful are their eyes, these gems of our bodies, a myriad different colours and spastically beautiful striations. I wish I could take photos of their eyes, record them all into a wallpaper. Today I will endeavour to photograph the scenario from my vantage point.

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