Friday, June 19, 2009
Thursday, September 4, 2008
“Four Cases”
In consideration of space and time I found myself at the corner of Pasqua and Dewdney. I thought it would be a good start but then it seemed to be more on the fringe and not at the heart of the centre of focus, which was North Central. Being there was essential. Yet much of it is also the memory of Sacred Heart, living on Queen Street and falling out of a tree. Playing on the grounds of Government House.
Riding down Dewdney and then an image of when Indians actually camped at the exhibition grounds. Then it was the small park and then nothing. It seems to fade like cheep ink on paper in the sun. I am always amazed at its power to wear down material until it falls apart like dried leaves in late autumn. It made me think of Piapots speech about fading words or was it broken promises and something about the length of an arm and then only a finger. Or was it the relationship to Pemmican Pete’s broken arm, missing, along with something else like what really happened.
Missing, land people and history seem to have stood out among the subjects of place. Not my choice but rather an accidental encounter. Like strangers and old friends in the night I would hear a story and then it would be woven into the web. Googled and then reprocessed as a question. What? Net? Connected? No, you don’t walk at night, it’s not safe. A few stories, things change. How about this……….
Oh yes truth and reconciliation, now I remember. It was a question of truth. Even among ourselves we see differently and color things with a different palette sometimes. As easy as Iron oxide, yellow ochre, white chalk, and black carbon. I would sit and look at the sun with my eyes closed and see red. I thought that was what I saw before I came into this world. Do we see through our mother’s skin I would ask?
My border is my skin, an intrusion could be a germ, a virus and then again I was told that we are made of material from the stars and that there is no original material other than what is already. I consume flesh and eat vegetables, burgers and fries. I think of grease and fry bread. Smothered in butter, with fresh raspberry jam. True, it is a killer but I love it.
I see it as a skull and cross bones wrapped in cellophane on a black Styrofoam tray with a white label printed in black ink. Nutritional Facts: calories, fat, sodium, carbohydrates, protein, vitamins and ingredients. After a million years of evolution and only a century of security we are still overcome with the desire to consume and store fat. Toonie Tuesday is the day to fill the fat cells. It’s hard to say no. I have felt this.
Unending desire to go back and say yeah an idea is like a germ and culture is the cultivation of that idea and so the seeds we plant now will in time grow and spread. If not forgotten, then maybe dogma is the key to preservation in times of stress. Which makes me wonder about lost information. What have we lost? Language? Keys?
I think we lost some keys and it’s crucial that we find them.
I would go back and hang out at the New Utopia early in the morning and read magazines and to watch Roger paint and dance. He had his favorites on the jukebox, which now seems so ancient in its own weird way. Like old media, or new media made accessible at your table. Disk to disk to flash drive.
Monuments of progress face north. Dewdney runs across. In the early days I would pawn my camera down the street. At the New Utopia, Roger would let me run up a tab when I had no money. I also saw him feed other people at his own expense, or maybe they also were running up tabs. I don’t know.
Souls Harbor is now being run out of a building across from Sacred Heart on 8th Ave and serves dinner every day at six. I heard the food is good. On the same block where the New Utopia used to be, there is a dinner program run by the “Women of the Dawn” It will be called the “The Mushoom and Kokum _______”
I like their windows and I’m considering this location for the four cases. One of which is a cold case. Hard copy, artifacts, ritual objects and visual evidence Containers of information. Ok, so who was Jim Brady? Yes, lost information like blank spaces. Child find is down the street the RCMP and Mc Donald’s.
At one point I was thinking of making a bust of Edger Dewdney out of lard and placing it in a window facing south. It would melt in the hot sun. I thought I would put a fan on it to keep it cool. Then, the thought of losing so much detail in this process made me consider total abstraction. Where I would just use blocks of lard in a minimal sculpture of Edger Dewdney. It would be a large square block of lard on a wooden pallet ready for movement.
So one cold case, and another about loss of land and place would seem to be a good start, since this is Dewdney and it is because of Dewdney that Regina is where it is. So lets look at what we have lost and what we have gained. Let us begin with a new chronology beginning with 10,000 years of movement and life. To live and run free. Liberty.
In the end I think it is better to focus on the cold case and fill in the blanks. This is the story I heard just off of Dewdney one night at a gathering. This soon began to grow in other directions. All the while being in respect of those involved so for now it will be the point of departure.
It began with a dream my associate had one night…………….
This project began in a process of creating three cases of information as points of departure in the interaction with the community but then in this interaction a new case came into being. This being a narrative that is now the point of departure in the filling of blanks and finding the truth and a point of reconciliation.
In consideration of space and time I found myself at the corner of Pasqua and Dewdney. I thought it would be a good start but then it seemed to be more on the fringe and not at the heart of the centre of focus, which was North Central. Being there was essential. Yet much of it is also the memory of Sacred Heart, living on Queen Street and falling out of a tree. Playing on the grounds of Government House.
Riding down Dewdney and then an image of when Indians actually camped at the exhibition grounds. Then it was the small park and then nothing. It seems to fade like cheep ink on paper in the sun. I am always amazed at its power to wear down material until it falls apart like dried leaves in late autumn. It made me think of Piapots speech about fading words or was it broken promises and something about the length of an arm and then only a finger. Or was it the relationship to Pemmican Pete’s broken arm, missing, along with something else like what really happened.
Missing, land people and history seem to have stood out among the subjects of place. Not my choice but rather an accidental encounter. Like strangers and old friends in the night I would hear a story and then it would be woven into the web. Googled and then reprocessed as a question. What? Net? Connected? No, you don’t walk at night, it’s not safe. A few stories, things change. How about this……….
Oh yes truth and reconciliation, now I remember. It was a question of truth. Even among ourselves we see differently and color things with a different palette sometimes. As easy as Iron oxide, yellow ochre, white chalk, and black carbon. I would sit and look at the sun with my eyes closed and see red. I thought that was what I saw before I came into this world. Do we see through our mother’s skin I would ask?
My border is my skin, an intrusion could be a germ, a virus and then again I was told that we are made of material from the stars and that there is no original material other than what is already. I consume flesh and eat vegetables, burgers and fries. I think of grease and fry bread. Smothered in butter, with fresh raspberry jam. True, it is a killer but I love it.
I see it as a skull and cross bones wrapped in cellophane on a black Styrofoam tray with a white label printed in black ink. Nutritional Facts: calories, fat, sodium, carbohydrates, protein, vitamins and ingredients. After a million years of evolution and only a century of security we are still overcome with the desire to consume and store fat. Toonie Tuesday is the day to fill the fat cells. It’s hard to say no. I have felt this.
Unending desire to go back and say yeah an idea is like a germ and culture is the cultivation of that idea and so the seeds we plant now will in time grow and spread. If not forgotten, then maybe dogma is the key to preservation in times of stress. Which makes me wonder about lost information. What have we lost? Language? Keys?
I think we lost some keys and it’s crucial that we find them.
I would go back and hang out at the New Utopia early in the morning and read magazines and to watch Roger paint and dance. He had his favorites on the jukebox, which now seems so ancient in its own weird way. Like old media, or new media made accessible at your table. Disk to disk to flash drive.
Monuments of progress face north. Dewdney runs across. In the early days I would pawn my camera down the street. At the New Utopia, Roger would let me run up a tab when I had no money. I also saw him feed other people at his own expense, or maybe they also were running up tabs. I don’t know.
Souls Harbor is now being run out of a building across from Sacred Heart on 8th Ave and serves dinner every day at six. I heard the food is good. On the same block where the New Utopia used to be, there is a dinner program run by the “Women of the Dawn” It will be called the “The Mushoom and Kokum _______”
I like their windows and I’m considering this location for the four cases. One of which is a cold case. Hard copy, artifacts, ritual objects and visual evidence Containers of information. Ok, so who was Jim Brady? Yes, lost information like blank spaces. Child find is down the street the RCMP and Mc Donald’s.
At one point I was thinking of making a bust of Edger Dewdney out of lard and placing it in a window facing south. It would melt in the hot sun. I thought I would put a fan on it to keep it cool. Then, the thought of losing so much detail in this process made me consider total abstraction. Where I would just use blocks of lard in a minimal sculpture of Edger Dewdney. It would be a large square block of lard on a wooden pallet ready for movement.
So one cold case, and another about loss of land and place would seem to be a good start, since this is Dewdney and it is because of Dewdney that Regina is where it is. So lets look at what we have lost and what we have gained. Let us begin with a new chronology beginning with 10,000 years of movement and life. To live and run free. Liberty.
In the end I think it is better to focus on the cold case and fill in the blanks. This is the story I heard just off of Dewdney one night at a gathering. This soon began to grow in other directions. All the while being in respect of those involved so for now it will be the point of departure.
It began with a dream my associate had one night…………….
This project began in a process of creating three cases of information as points of departure in the interaction with the community but then in this interaction a new case came into being. This being a narrative that is now the point of departure in the filling of blanks and finding the truth and a point of reconciliation.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
The Cases
They can be thought of as bundles but also as something as old as the first tool kit. This has been its only purpose in nomadic maneuvers. That allows a certain amount of freedom to engage and choose the place of encounter. It is nothing new and is Fluxis but also ritual action.
An interesting site: Clip one
http://www.fluxus.org/FLUXLIST/maciunas/
An interesting site: Clip one
http://www.fluxus.org/FLUXLIST/maciunas/
