THE STATIONS INBETWEEN

UNDISCLOSED #12 - 28th December 2008

2009-02-14T21:09:00.001-08:00

Undisclosed #12 – 28th December 2008
Early morning sometime, I think around 9am.
I am standing in front of the War Memorial.
There is a man made pool in front.
I am walking around this.
I am now at the end facing back towards the huge cenotaph.
I am lying down with my feet facing towards the memorial. I am dressed in a red shirt and red pants. I have a pile of ice cubes to each side, which I pick up and place around my legs.
The cubes are tracing my outline.
A couple are walking in my direction, they are in there mid 50’s.
They look down at me with interest and then look around trying to figure if there is something or someone else around that will give a clue to this. They sort of smile at me but don’t engage.
I am now up to my upper torso. It is pretty swift work.
I am tracing my right arm. It is getting a bit tricky here, but I figure if I trace one arm then remove that arm to trace my other, then I will lie down grappling for the remaining cubes to place around my head.
I have just placed the last of the cubes above my head and I am now settling my arms inside their ice-cube outline.
I am lying in my outline imagining the ice-cubes are melting. I don’t know how long this will take. It is a warm day so I am supposing not too long.
I wonder if I will get told to move on before they are finished melting.
There are a lot more people around now. I hear them and see some of them pass.
Most seem to just look at me quizzically.
I am waiting for a bunch of loud party revellers to stumble across me on their way home but so far so good. It is a tricky thing, you can never be sure which way it could go with them.
It is interesting this early morning crowd have been quite polite, so far. Maybe it is a Sunday thing. Sunday the day of visiting great monuments, gardens, galleries, churches…
I think I must have been here for an hour, I feel very calm amongst the city din.
I can see that the ice-cubes are mostly melted.
I rise and step out of my watery outline.
From my pocket I pull out a tiny needle. I am now pricking each tip of my fingertips on my left hand. I squeeze and encourage a droplet on each tip.
I am bending down and leaning over my outline I imprint each finger on the ground inside my outline to form a half-cup shape in the vicinity of my womb.
I am now repeating this with my right hand. I imprint my fingertips on the ground to complete this cup shape. They look like faint dark blotches. A sort of join the dots.
I am standing at my outlines feet and I take one last look at this trace.
I leave, I am walking away along the avenue with my back to the memorial.
I cannot know what this trace will be by mid afternoon but each cube was infused with a large amount of salt, so in my minds eye I can see a barely perceptible salt stain. A fleeting ghost.

UNDISCLOSED #11 - 30th November 2008

2009-02-14T21:07:00.000-08:00

4pm outside a popular bank.
In front of the entrance I place one 5 cent piece down, now another next to it.
There is a line of twenty 5 cent pieces next to each other.
I start a new line.
Now there is two lines of twenty 5 cent pieces.
I start a new line.
4.10pm.
There is ten rows of twenty 5 cent pieces.
They look like a shining welcome mat.
Two hundred 5 cent pieces equals $10.
This is what I have to pay to the bank each month because I do not earn enough each week to keep my balance above $5000.

Some people have been watching me. They look at the welcome mat.
As I leave they clap.
I smile, say nothing and walk down the street.

UNDISCLOSED #10 - 26th October 2008

2009-02-14T21:05:00.000-08:00

It is about 7am and I am walking up a stretch of road in the country.
I am dressed in black.
I pick up a scattering of glass shards.
I pick up a bottle top.
I pick up a white plastic lid.
I pick up a yellow top.
I am walking along this road and in a bag by my side I have trinkets that I keep finding on my way.
I pick up a rusty screw.
I pick up a piece of rubber, old and brittle.
I pick up a piece of cardboard from some sort of packaging.
I pick up a feather.
I pick up a yellow flower.
I pick up a water damaged and sun dried soft porn mag.
A car goes by and the wind whips me in its wake.
It is quiet, not many people moving yet on the road.
A cockatoo squawks, rosellas are chattering.
In the distance I hear the caw of a crow and now another and another.
There is a pleasant expectancy hanging in the air.
I pick up a purple shard of some plastic.
I pick up an old bleached bone, maybe from a bird.
I pick up a small silver cylinder.
I pick up red reflector shards.
I pick up a weathered cigarette butt.
I pick up a mars bar wrapper.
I pick up a broken pair of sunglasses.
I pick up a deteriorated thong.
I pick up a piece of black tube.
I pick up a mangled sweater of some sort, maybe once a forest green.
I pick up a cracked pen.
I pick up a squashed can of coke.
I have walked about 3 kms and my trinket bag is becoming laden.
I am at a siding in the road that is clear and has some space, somewhere a car can pull off the road if it needs to.
A cow bellows in the distance.
I am placing the trinkets down. I place them to start to form letters.
I have formed three letters they are about 50cm high.
I am forming links between the objects.
I am putting some colours together.
I am putting clothes and shoes and accessories together.
I am putting rocks and bones and flowers together.
I am putting consumption rubbish together.
I am putting parts together.
I am putting glass together.
I am putting it together.
I have finished.
I look down at my two words formed from the detritus and the flora of the road.
It is the story of the road.
“Remember this”
I look back towards where I came from and go.

UNDISCLOSED #9 - 28th September 2008

2009-02-14T21:03:00.000-08:00

It must be around 8.30 am and I am on a Spring beach.
There are a few people around maintaining their early morning fitness regimes.
I find a spot in the sand that is firm but not too dry or wet, somewhere in between.
A place where, if I dig a few feet I might start to get water seeping up but am not in danger of waves coming in – yet.
I start digging.
The hole is over a metre long and around three quarters of a metre wide.
This seems easy work to begin with and I imagine just looks like I am someone playing in the sand for the sheer joy of digging.
It must be about 15 mins on and it is starting to get serious, I am going deep. I am trying for at least a metre and a half. It starts to get a bit tough because I need to start maintaining the walls to prevent them from caving in.
I am at about half a metre and I sit inside the hole and start digging from this position so my movement does not disturb the edges as much.
I am excavating the part of the hole in front of me, in effect creating a seat where I can dig from.
I am getting somewhere and the sand is moist enough and the air cool enough that it does not dry quickly, so it adheres together nicely. I am pounding the walls to make them hard and solid.
I am standing in the deeper part of the hole, which I think is getting to the depth I want and I start scooping off layers from the higher part. I am actually creating a seat.
I think I have now been going for what seems a long time but I am sure it is probably only about 40 mins or so.
The seat is patted down now and I can sit on it.
The bottom of the hole is a little soggy with water seeping up.
My head and shoulders just come above the hole from this seated position.
I am patting the sand around the perimeter of the hole making it nice and smooth.
I write on one side
“Colonised”
and on the other side
“Coloniser”
I draw an arrow from both sides meeting in the front like the bow of a ship.
I sit down and look straight ahead.
I watch my horizon.
I watch my horizon.
I watch my horizon.
I am still.
I stand up, climb out and leave walking in the direction of the arrow.

UNDISCLOSED #8 - 31st August 2008

2008-09-30T23:38:00.000-07:00

It is 11am.
I am armed.
In my bag is a wad of envelopes.
Each envelope is addressed to a need.
Inside each envelope is a suggestion or word of advice or a tried and true method passed on from my grandmothers grandmother and the grandmother before that, or disclosed to me by a wise old woman in a Turkish bathhouse in Budapest.
I survey my options and decide to sit just outside the train station. There are no buskers here yet and no one asking for money. They must be having a sleepy Sunday in. I seize my place while the opportunity allows. There are plenty of people around and they are all going about brunch or lunch or shopping. I sit on the milkcrate, left over from last nights performance no doubt.
Then I lay out my merchandise.
Not that I am really asking for money, I just want to see how the transactions will be negotiated.
The various envelopes read ‘Need More Money?’, ‘Want to be more Sexy?, ‘Looking for love?’, ‘Need a good recipe?’, ‘Don’t know how to remove that stain?’,
‘Wish you could erase last night?’, ‘Need new pants?’, ‘Lost your mobile?’,
‘Want a second life?’, ‘Need a pet?’, ‘Don’t know how to clean the toilet?’, ‘Looking for your Mum?’, ‘Want a new job?’, ‘Wish you could go to Finland?’, Not sure what your next move should be?’, ‘Wish you were good at sex?’, ‘Lost your shoe?’, ‘Not sure which coat to wear?’, ‘Don’t know how to swim?’, ‘Want to give up eating chocolate and drinking coffee?’. And there are more.

The first few people to walk past just give me a brief glance, not sure what to make of what I am doing. I can see that they are thinking something like, She doesn’t look like a beggar but where is her instrument?
Oh that is one too – ‘Need a new instrument?’

Then a small girl with her mum passes, she is about 9 years old and is attracted by my bright clothes and the coloured envelopes. She looks up at her Mum for a second as if gauging whether she can stop. The mother gives me a quick once over, I smile and she relaxes a little but encourages her daughter along.

Next a group of four friends pass in there mid twenties. They are happy and jovial. One asks “What’s all this then? What you doing?
I reply that I am giving away answers , is there anything that he feels rings a bell for him and point at the various envelopes.
He laughs and jokes with his friends as the ‘Erasing last night’ one catches his eye. I offer it to him. “Go on take it, it’s yours”
He is not sure but opts to take it from me with a brave laugh, meanwhile one of the other girls is studying the envelopes a bit more seriously. She says ‘What, are you just giving these away, can I just take it?”
I nod, still hesitant she says “Really?”
“Yes, go on”
She picks up ‘Not sure what your next move should be?’
Meanwhile the guy has ripped open his envelope and is chuckling away
“Get this it just says ‘It’s Erased!’, Ha Ha the jokes on us. Good one. Come on guys, have a good day!”
They all follow him up the street, bemused but a bit unsure what has just happened, the girl is still clutching her envelope, she hasn’t opened it, I see her slip it in her bag.

Not long after this, a man in his late 30’s stops and smiles, he surveys the envelopes and then asks me how I am?
I say fine, he asks me if I am like a tarot reader or fortune teller or something.
I say of sorts, I have advice and he can either take it or leave it.
He asks if I do this sort of thing often and where else do I do it?
I say whenever the urge takes me and it could be anywhere.
He really wants to chat to me, I can see. He is doing nothing particularly and has found me doing what he perceives as nothing in particular so thinks it is a good opportunity for a chat.
That’s ok. It is interesting to observe him, I see that he actually has no interest what so ever in the envelopes or picking one up, he just sees it as something that is drawing attention and he wants to be a part of that. He encourages people to look and jokes with them to pick up an envelope. “Come on” he says to one girl “Don’t you want to know how to remove that stain?”
She looks at him slightly horrified, she looks at me and I can see she is trying to work out whether he is part of this.
Another guy walks past and he almost bullies him into picking up an envelope
“Come on, bet you need a new recipe to impress your girlfriend” he says. The guy is not sure what is going on but goes along with it and accepts the offer.
This goes on for a while and he actually moves about eight envelopes for me. It is almost like watching a spruiker at work. He is loving it. Loving the hype and the opportunity it is giving him to interact with passers by. Then I think ,wow, it is almost like being upstaged in a way.
After about half an hour, he turns to me and says “well that was fun, nice meeting you and yeh well I got to get moving now, Yeh ummm have a great day mate, good luck, do you need anything? A bottle of water or something? Ok, well, see you around. Cheers!” and off he goes, never having picked up one envelope for himself.
I take a big breath and have a bit of a chuckle.
A lady in her 40s passes and stops, she smiles and then looks at each envelope.
She asks if she can buy one and how much?
I say there is no price. She looks at me a bit unsure.
I smile.
She looks at the envelopes again as if trying to make a decision.
“Could I take these three, is that ok?
I could pay you, I know that is a lot.”
I say to her she can do whatever she feels is right.
She is still struggling with it, I can see that part of her feels she should pay me something especially because she wants more, but a part of her just wants to take the free ride, because she just doesn’t know whether it will be worth anything.
Eventually she stoops down and picks up two – ‘Need new pants?’ and ‘Don’t know how to swim?’
She gets up and leaves me $2 thanking me and wishing me a lovely day.
She holds her precious cargo with both hands and rushes off.
I have been here for about an hour and half now and have 7 envelopes left.
I am contemplating leaving when a man that came past at least 40 mins ago stops, he says “you know that envelope I picked up, well your amazing, I feel so much better now, thankyou so much. I bought some cake, its chocolate, do you like chocolate?”
I say “yes”, he says “please have it and thankyou once again.” I thank him for his generosity and he brushes it off saying “no no thankyou this is a good thing you are doing here.” Then with another goodbye he leaves.
I am so touched, I rack my brains to think which envelope he took but can’t work it out. It was round the time that my spruiker was working the crowd and I lost track a little of which envelopes went where.
I try and guess but decide that it is better left a mystery.
It is 1.05pm
I have three envelopes left and decide that it is time to leave.
I get up and place the envelopes on the milkcrate.
I walk down the street.

UNDISCLOSED #7 - 27th July 2008

2008-08-14T23:41:00.000-07:00

It is 11.55pm.
I am dressed in an off the shoulder red party dress with a full skirt.
Tall, elegant black shoes.
My hair is swept up high on my head.
Around my neck is a diamante choker.
In my arms are a dozen red long stemmed roses and a red box of chocolates, the flat box kind with a tray inside containing, also, a dozen chocolates.
I stand at the foot of the staircase leading up to the entrance to the Town Hall.
There are a few people around mainly rushing past. Cars drive by.
A wolf whistle sounds from some direction to my left.
But mostly it is quiet, for the city. It is a Sunday evening.
I start my ascent.
At every third step I leave a rose.
I hear some people behind me. Their tone suggests they are watching and wondering what I am doing.
Again some passer by, a male, yells out some remark I cannot quite catch.
I reach the top of the staircase and turn.
There are a few people peering up from different parts of the street.
There is a bus stop across the road and I can see that there is some curiosity.
I however, have business to attend to.
I sit down and carefully open the box of chocolates on my lap.
I take one out and place it in my mouth.
I write a note on the paper that covers the chocolates
“The last time…”
I slowly start to consume each chocolate and in each ones place I leave a piece of paper with a date…
The dates span over three decades.
Below me some late night revellers look up and cheer and joke.
One young man runs up the stairs and grabs a rose then runs off.
Mostly people are quiet and curious.
I wonder if a security guard will appear and ask me to move on.
So far, so good.
I am down to the last chocolate.
I do not eat this one.
I leave a small note next to it
“This one is for you…”
It is 12.27am
I stand up leaving the box of not quite empty chocolates on the stairs.
Casually I proceed down the stairs and quietly leave the scene.

UNDISCLOSED #6 - 29th June 2008

2008-07-29T05:39:00.000-07:00

It is 9.10am, I am sitting in a café and my early morning coffee and fruit toast has just arrived.
I take out my mobile and take a photo of this early morning breakfast.
I then scan for any bluetooth devices, within 30 seconds I have five.
Adding the words
“Thank God it is here!” to the photo of my breakfast
I send it out to these bluetooth devices.
I turn my bluetooth off.

It is 11am and I have moved to another café. This time my order is a hot chocolate in a tall glass adorned with a large marshmallow.
Taking a photo of this I add the words
“Time to enjoy”
Scanning for bluetooth devices I discover 3.
Out my message goes.

It is 1.30pm
Lunch in another café.
A bagel with smoked salmon, capers, cheese.
A side of rocket
My photo is accompanied by
“it’s fishy”
9 discoverable devices.
Out goes my message.
Two fail.

4.15 and a latte with a chocolate brownie sit in front of me.
“Warm and happy”
6 devices.
All are received.

Sitting at a bar overlooking the street at 6pm.
Before me is a tall glass containing a long island ice tea.
“It has been a long time”
12 devices all messages delivered.

7.30pm finds me in an Italian Restaurant.
Before me is a plate of Spaghetti Neopolitana.
“mix it up”
4 devices, 4 messages go out.

9.30pm, in a re-vamped pub.
The place is vibey and there is lots of laughter.
I have a glass of red wine.
“Last one”
13 devices.

11.00pm.
Home.

UNDISCLOSED #5 - 25th May 2008

2008-07-28T19:19:00.000-07:00

It is around 6.30pm.
I am in an underground railway station.
It is one of those stations with a rounded tunnel, old-fashioned and about 10 metres across the two tracks, is the other side, with identical benches and tiles and guards room. A mirror stage.
It is just past the main peak hour. There is a lull.
I am the only one on my side of the station so far.
I am still, silent.
Observing.
I hear the tapping of someone’s feet and a tune whistle. I look around for the source. Finally from the far end of the opposite side a small woman appears out from the stairs. She then proceeds to walk down the whole length of the platform, singing her song, her feet tap tapping.
There is no one else, I am the sole audience in this performance.
Finally she reaches her seat, the seat she has chosen, she flops down upon it and hums a few more bars, then is silent.
In no more than a few moments I hear another sound, a swish-swish. I look up towards the opposite entrance to the platform and wait expectantly for this new player. This time another woman emerges, tall, with wide jeans. It is these jeans that make a special swish-swish sound. The sound echoes around the tunnel, fills it up. The woman is unaware of the aural interplay and as if on cue, the other woman starts to hum a few strains once again. The swish woman, proceeds down the platform and sits on the next seat up from the humming woman.
Before she makes it to her seat another sound fades in. This time it is the scrunchy-scrunchy beat of a laden plastic bag as it bounces in rhythm to its owners step. A large woman in a floral dress appears and joins the procession down the platform. Her chosen seat two up from the last woman.
Hum-hum, swish-swish, scrunchy-scrunchy swish.
As the scrunchy lady heads down the platform another is heard to be entering, this one is neat crisp click-click shoes.
This woman enters the soundscape, click-click, metronome down the platform, click-click, neat black two piece, past the scrunchy-scrunchy lady and onto the seat between her and swishy-swish lady.
She is followed closely by shuffle lady, shoe shuffle, soft shoe shuffle, down the platform.
Clickety-click, scrunchy-scrunch, soft shuffley-shuffle, hum-hum.
Clickety-click opens her bag and pulls out a crackelly bag of crispy-crisps,
Scrunchy lady sits with her scrunchy bags and scrunches around opening a scratchy packet of biscuits.
Soft shoe shuffle passes scrunchy and sits next to clickety-click, pulling out a book, flick-flick.
Now there is no steps, just hum- hum, flick-flick, crackelty-crack, scrunchy-crunch, swish.
This has been an amazing performance so far!
I have been the audience.
My performance today has been about being the audience, the witness.
There has been no one on my side to witness this, just me.
Up till now, there has only been women players, there is a calm intention. A deliberate delivery. An impeccable execution.
This does not last for long now, the show is reaching a climax as the chorus performers enter and a train rumbles onto centre stage, a fortissimo drowning out the solos. There is a loud speaker, a recorded message, a flurry and suddenly all is swept away with the trains departure. After the distant rumbling a calm settles once again upon the stage.
It is empty now.
The cycle is about to re start.
The audience on my side has grown, there is an expectant air of pre show anticipation.
Shuffle-shuffle, scrape, crunch, cough, tap tap, sigh.

UNDISCLOSED #4 - 27th April 2008

2008-04-29T23:44:00.000-07:00

It is 11.30 pm.
I am in a large open park, a park that has lots of unobstructed space.
A park that is open to the sky, an open canvas.
There is no-one in the park at this time. It is cold and the icy winds are unusual for April. Yet this makes the park, the sky, the night, seem clear, fresh and expectant.
I am standing in a central position in the park and place my bag down.
A large bat flies overhead and screeches as it lands in a bordering tree.
From my bag I take out a medium sized white stone, I walk 20 paces at a slight diagonal to the left, from my bag and place it there (#1). Returning, I take another white stone and repeat this procedure, at a slight diagonal, but 18 paces to the right (#2).
The next rock I pick up and about face and walk 19 paces to my right on a slight diagonal, placing it there (#3). On return, I then take the next rock 18 paces at a slight diagonal to my left placing it there (#4).
This time on return I place a rock next to my bag (#5), the next rock I turn to my right and at a very slight diagonal towards my initial right rock, I walk 6 paces and place it (#6). Back at centre I turn to my left and continue this diagonal placing the next rock 6 paces from the central one and in line with it and the previous placement (#7).
Returning to my bag, I pick up three white rocks now, these are slightly smaller, turning back towards the last placement I stop just before I reach it, I now turn to my left again and at a very slight angle back towards the right I walk 6 paces, place a rock (#8), walk another 6 paces, place a rock (#9) and then a final 6 paces, placing the last rock (#10).
Now back at the central rock, I pick up another smaller rock and facing the original two I walk at an ever so slight angle to my right, 22 paces and place this one here (#11).
I look back across the design I have made, the markers.
This is reminiscent of something humans have been doing for a long, long time.
Marking and mimicking what they see in an effort to understand, be it an exercise in memory, veneration or adulation.
I now go back to my bag and take out the final two rocks; one is medium and the other a bit larger.
I walk towards placement #3, from here I walk at a 45 degree angle to my right, 20 paces, at this point I place the medium rock (#12). Then turning to my right again and back ever so slightly I walk 15 paces and place the final larger rock (#13).
In all this time I have been totally absorbed in what I am doing. I have been aware of the night and the night noises, the odd car, distant voices but my focus has been on my creation.
I walk back to the centre and pick up my bag, I head straight down, between placements #3 and #4.
Turning I look back, I can see most of the placements, some are a bit faint.
They glow in the quarter moon sky.
They mimic a constellation.
This constellation is one that has intrigued humans for millennia, it has many stories, it has many faces and many names, it can be seen the world over.
It is a marker.
It was in the sky before humans and will remain there after.
It is 11.48pm.
I leave the park.

UNDISCLOSED #3 - 30th March 2008

2008-03-30T00:30:00.000-07:00

It is 11.20am and I am sitting on a public bench in a square.
I have my bag and a large bunch of white lillies. There are about 20, some are not quite open, some are half open and the rest are in full bloom.
They are big.
The whole bunch almost covers my torso as I sit with them.
I sit and watch the people go by on their way to Sunday brunch, to home after a night out, to the supermarket, to the coffee shop, to the newsagent, to meet someone or just wandering. I can only suppose.
Some people look over and smile at me, some ignore me, most take a passing glance.
A woman in her 50’s passes and with a knowing smile comments “Someone is lucky!”. I smile and nod in return.
It is an hour later and I am still here. I have shuffled a bit, moved around, leaned against the bench with my legs up, sat cross-legged.
More people are passing, glancing, now some are watching.
They know I have been here for a long time, waiting.
They are starting to construct their own story as to what might be taking place.
I see some familiar faces passing back from their shopping or brunch or whatever it is they have been doing. Some smile at me, acknowledging some familiarity others give me a quick furtive smile as if embarressed for me, that I am still sitting here, obviously waiting. They too construct their own story.
It is now two hours on.
An old man has been sitting next to me for the last 20 minutes, chatting away. The flowers offered an excuse for him to sit down and chat. He chats and chats. He asks me who I am waiting for. He asks me what I do. He says I am a very pretty lady. He tells me about his wife, now passed away. He tells me about his grand kids. He tells me what he is doing today. He tells me how long he has lived in this area and what he used to do. Finally, he gets up as if to leave. He seems a bit concerned as if it is his duty to chaperone me until whoever I am waiting for arrives. He seems a bit torn as to how he should make his departure. I say “Well it has been very nice to meet you and chat, have a lovely day!”
This gives him permission to leave and he does.
It is now 2.10pm. My flowers are holding up in the sun but I am feeling and no doubt looking a bit weary. I have just spotted the old man on the other side of the road. I smile and wave and he smiles and waves enthusiastically back, but shuffles on quite determined. I know he just does not know what to make of me and my situation.
I pull out a note pad and write
“I am sorry I missed you”
I get up and place the flowers on the bench and place the note just inside the clear plastic on top.
It is 2.25pm and I go home.

UNDISCLOSED #2 - 24th February 2008

2008-02-23T21:55:00.000-08:00

9am, and I am sitting at a park bench and table. It is one of those small parks tucked away between narrow inner city streets. A little park haven, a couple of swings, one of those multiple-function play sets and one table and bench setting.
From my bag I take out two loaves of sliced white bread, butter, vegemite, peanut butter, a packet of hundreds and thousands, a knife, a bread board, a roll of wax paper, 8 paper cups, 2 litres of pre-made orange cordial and a texta.
I open the first loaf of bread and take four slices out placing them on the bread board. I pick up the knife and start to butter the slices, reaching for the vegemite I spread this over two of the slices of bread. Not too much, not too little but just right, evenly and smoothly spread. I place the buttered slices on top and cut the two sandwiches into quarters. Reaching for the paper I measure out enough to wrap a sandwich. I am wrapping the first of the sandwiches, evenly, neatly, measured, folding the ends over and sealing the freshly made sandwich inside. I reach for the texta, and on the paper I write the name Jill. Placing it to one side I measure out some more paper and I wrap the second sandwich. I write the name Timothy.
I am alone, there is no-one else in the park, a few people have walked past, glancing over. I feel like I must seem like an organised mother pre-paring for the picnic, making the sandwiches, alone, the calm before the storm.
I have now made four more sandwiches, two with peanut butter and two with just plain butter. The names read Clancy, David, Theo, Cathy.
I am sprinkling hundreds and thousands over two buttered slices. It fills me with a sense of fun and joy! Even now, hundreds and thousands seem to represent something special, a treat! I was never allowed to have such a sandwich at school.
I place the last two neatly wrapped parcels on the bench - Mathew and Rachel.
Picking up the paper cups, I place one next to each sandwich. I fill each one with cordial.
Cleaning up the mess, I pack it all away into my bag.
Remaining on the park table is a setting for eight. Eight sandwiches, eight cups filled with cordial. Eight names.
No-one has arrived, no-one has ventured into the park.
I leave. Alone. It is 9.35am

UNDISCLOSED #1 - 27th January 2008

2008-01-26T20:27:00.000-08:00

It is 6.30am. The sky is fresh and clear. There is an energy in the air, one tinged with the expected heat of the day to come. The birds are up and chirpy, obviously getting their business done before the day gets too hot, before it slips into the drowsy midsummer heat. My body feels a warm expansion.
I am sitting under an old and reverent oak tree. There is something about this oak tree that speaks of ages. Ages to come, ages past.
This oak reminds me of a timeless grandfather figure. A sturdy, wise, grandfather, solid and enduring. I don’t know why or why a grandfather rather than a grandmother.
I pull out a wad of red origami paper, a green fluorescent clip-board, a pair of scissors and some red twine.
Taking the top piece of paper I place it on the flat surface of the clipboard and begin the precise folds. I am making a red origami fish. I am quiet and concentrated. As I am folding the paper I am thinking of a missed opportunity, one I did not take up, an event that did not come to pass, slipped through my fingers, so to speak, like a slippery fish. As I complete this fish I give it my blessing and let this event go. I take the twine and after carefully skewering a hole in the top of the fish, I thread a long length through. I stand up and attach it to a branch of the oak tree.
This has taken me 3 minutes.
I intend to keep going until I can think of no more missed opportunities.
I sit back down and take another piece of paper…

I have just completed ten fish.

I have been engaged in this task now for 30 minutes.
I have already gone into a trance-like state, consumed by all these thoughts and memories that have been percolating and making themselves available.
It is surprising me. I thought maybe I would draw a mental blank very quickly, or just get stuck because ‘I did not want to go there.’
I pull another piece of paper off the pile.
A memory comes up, unexpected, I didn’t bank on this one, I had forgotten. I am in tears, a drop, then another drop lands on the paper.
I find it amazing that the memories that seem the most obvious to trigger grief, sadness or melancholy, are sometimes the ones that are, just are. It is the unexpected ones, the seemingly innocuous, that creep up behind you, that nab you. Before you know what is going on you are in their clutches.
I finish the last folds of this fish, perhaps a little slower than the previous. I sit with it, before I scewer it and thread it. As I slowly place it in the tree I am filled with loss, absolute loss, an empty hollow place. There is no evocative streetscape here. It is what it is, pure and simple. Empty…

I have been sitting here for an hour and ten minutes. A man is walking past with his dog. He is glancing over at me, and my decorated tree. I can see he is interested but a bit unsure whether he should intrude into my space. I can sense he has questions.
Questions and interest aside, he smothers this instinct and just keeps going.

I think I am up to about fish, twenty-three, I am losing count. Half way through this fish I chuckle to myself, this is an interesting one. One of those “Oh my God!”, opportunities. Had I followed it through, my life would have taken a bizarre turn. Possibly fun, but ultimately, unsustainable. It never the less leaves me feeling warm and happy.

My back is starting to complain, sitting on this hard ground and constantly bending forward. I do some stretches. I am also feeling the first pangs of breakfast hunger.
I have water with me but nothing else.
I resist the temptation to just hurry this along. I try and remain true to the cause. I have a backlog, now, that is just sitting there in the queue, awaiting a fish.

It is 8.18am, I am just sitting now, trying to work out if there is more or is this enough. I am waiting for more to surface.

It is 8.32am, I have just completed two more.

It is 8.46am, I have decided to wait another 15 minutes, just to be sure.
I am leaning against the trunk of the tree, looking up and around at this red paper tree.
Red fish swimming in the summer air.
Maybe a bird will mistake them for fruit when I have gone.
That is sort of a nice idea, red fish fruit.

9.01am, two and a half hours have passed since I commenced this event. I stand up, surveying the result. I feel calm, elated, tranquil, happy, excited.
The tree looks festive, it looks celebratory, it feels solid.
I pack my things up.

As I walk away, I glance back at this tree that has suddenly flowered a myriad of red buds of possibility, swaying in the gentle morning breeze.

x jv

Dear reader, feel free to post some feedback. You have, afterall, just witnessed a site-specific performance event. How did it make you feel, what did you see?

UNDISCLOSED-A 12 month site-specific performance event

2008-01-26T20:16:00.000-08:00

UNDISCLOSED

12 site specific performances in 12 months

Introduction

In 2008, on the last Sunday of each month, Julie will perform, at an undisclosed location, a site-specific work.
There will be no invited witnesses.
There will be no visual/aural documentation.

There will be a written account.

This will be the only documentation of the event.
The written account will describe my process during the performance.

This is an exercise in memory.
This is an exercise in planting a memory into you, the reader.
This is an exercise in living memory.
This is an exercise in absent memory.
This is an exercise in the power of words and evocative memory.
This is an exercise in playing with the brains perception of reality.
This is an exercise in reality.

30 Whispers - Day 30

2007-10-04T22:47:00.002-07:00

25/08/07
“It is trickier than we all thought”

30 Whispers - Day 29

2007-10-04T22:47:00.001-07:00

24/08/07
Blank Day

30 Whispers - Day 28

2007-10-04T22:46:00.002-07:00

23/08/07
“Checking in to see if you are ok”

30 Whispers - Day 27

2007-10-04T22:46:00.001-07:00

22/08/07
“I did not understand so I did not know what to say”

30 Whispers - Day 26

2007-10-04T22:45:00.002-07:00

21/08/07
“Smile for a while and say hello”

30 Whispers - Day 25

2007-10-04T22:45:00.001-07:00

20/08/07
Blank Day

30 Whispers - Day 24

2007-10-04T22:44:00.002-07:00

19/08/07
“That is not how I feel, you are wrong”

30 Whispers - Day 23

2007-10-04T22:44:00.001-07:00

18/08/07
“It is a tragedy, nobody knows why”

30 Whispers - Day 22

2007-10-04T22:43:00.002-07:00

17/08/07
“Closed for a creative overhaul”

30 Whispers - Day 21

2007-10-04T22:43:00.001-07:00

16/08/07
“To Readjust you’ve got to trust”
- Red Hot Chilli Peppers

30 Whispers - Day 20

2007-10-04T22:42:00.002-07:00

15/08/07
“Today is an open day, a day to open up , open out”

30 Whispers - Day 19

2007-10-04T22:42:00.001-07:00

14/08/07
“Your future projects will make great progress if you dream of flying machines”

30 Whispers - Day 18

2007-10-04T22:41:00.002-07:00

13/08/07
“It was decided that I would draw the line”

30 Whispers - Day 17

2007-10-04T22:41:00.001-07:00

12/08/07
“The Sky is blue and so are you, better go see a doctor”

30 Whispers - Day 16

2007-10-04T22:40:00.000-07:00

11/08/07
“Many things just disappear”

30 Whispers - Day 15

2007-10-04T22:39:00.000-07:00

10/08/07
“Bubble Gum Beginnings”
- Spam

30 Whispers - Day 14

2007-10-04T22:37:00.000-07:00

9/08/07
“Something that could be explored and enjoyed in private”
SMH

30 Whispers - Day 13

2007-10-04T22:23:00.001-07:00

8/08/07
Blank Day

30 Whispers - Day 12

2007-10-04T22:21:00.000-07:00

7/08/07
“Tomorrow gives another possibility to create opportunity.
Tomorrow gives another opportunity to create possibility”

30 Whispers - Day 11

2007-10-04T22:11:00.000-07:00

6/08/07
“Start from here”

30 Whispers - Day 10

2007-10-04T22:07:00.000-07:00

5/08/07
“Please smile behind the yellow line”

30 Whispers - Day 9

2007-10-04T22:05:00.000-07:00

4/08/07
“Snowmen on ski slopes make excellent hiding places”
-Nancy Drew

30 Whispers - Day 8

2007-10-04T22:00:00.000-07:00

3/08/07
“ I watched the ravens the ravens watched me I smiled”

30 Whispers - Day 7

2007-10-04T21:55:00.000-07:00

2/08/07
“Create a cacophony and enjoy the radiating resonance”

30 Whispers - Day 6

2007-10-04T21:46:00.001-07:00

1/08/07
“Plugged in and buzzing on the universal socket”

30 Whispers - Day 5

2007-10-04T21:44:00.001-07:00

“Shadows are beautiful reminders of subtle shifts in our days.
Our lives can be measured by shadows of time.”

30 Whispers - Day 4

2007-10-04T21:37:00.000-07:00

30/07/07
“A tummy rub is always a good thing”

30 Whispers - Day 3

2007-10-04T21:35:00.000-07:00

29/07/07
“Art has to be part of one’s daily life or it’s not honest”
-Bill Viola-

30 Whispers - Day 2

2007-10-04T21:29:00.000-07:00

28/07/07
“I was waiting to hear you”

30 Whispers - Day 1

2007-10-04T21:26:00.000-07:00

27/07/07
“Dance when you’re broken open
Dance if you have torn the bandage off
Dance in the middle of the fighting
Dance in your blood
Dance when you’re perfectly free”
-Rumi-

Project 1 - "30 Whispers"

2007-10-04T21:14:00.000-07:00

TASK:
Every day, for 30 days, a note is placed somewhere in a public/private space.
The note contains a quote/an inspiration/an observation.
Every day, for 30 days, a photo is taken on my mobile phone.
The photo is random/contrived/spontaneous.
Every day the note and photo are placed together, they are a chance meeting.
AIM:
To explore the public/private domain.
To engage in an act of unknown outcomes.
To leave a trail.
To plant seeds.

PROJECT DURATION:
July 27th - August 25th 2007