Field Study's Man in E11 / E17 - come out come out wherever you are.
Study for a work in progress for Field Study International.
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Field Study's Man in E11 lost himself between the trees and the sky
6th June 2014 Perhaps this is yet another tainted moment, an emanation and reverie reduced to a technological spectacle; 'gizmodal' interference in the field of poetic encounter. An artist, a poet, a lover would have taken a hold of you by all your senses and given you the balmy aerial 'plumesence' in every dimension beyond the dumb robotic data of this field recording. Which one of the myriad specks in this aerial emanation is the field student losing himself to the whole?
Field Study's Man in E11 and a menagerie of inhabitants for the E17 Art Trail 2014
- Nooks, Crannies & Niches - 'In point of fact, imagination in miniature is natural imagination which appears at all ages in the daydreams of born dreamers. Indeed, the element of amusement must be removed, if we are to find its true psychological roots'. from, The Poetics of Space, Gaston Bachelard.
Field Study's Man in E11 found and lost himself in a shed
There's a crisis looming here in Lost and Found in E11 as various local arts events, in which we are supposed to be participating, approach. Where is Field Study's Man in E17? I need his artistic propensities and capabilities. He may be on a pestilential bender, inhabiting the consciousnesses of all manner of pestiferous fungi, bacteria and mini beasts. Blossom Wilt? Blame the field student! This is only conjecture. He may be elsewhere, inhabiting the mind of something, or way, much less malign and destructive. What is malign about Blossom Wilt anyway? Where does that thought come from? 'What is not creative about the destruction I am cultivating here in your mind?' - (my mind?) - , he asked in an imagined encounter; when I had finally caught up with him.That imagined encounter took place in nowhere in particular, for precisely, specifically, where he is, I can't imagine. He is nowhere but one step ahead. The furtive imagination. Perhaps he is a cat stu...