UNDISCLOSED #7 - 27th July 2008

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

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

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

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

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

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

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?