swoon: poised in non-spectacular ambiguity
single channel video, synthetic scent, purple feature wall, text | Royal College of Art Degree Show 2018
swoon: poised in non-spectacular ambiguity is a meditation on a feeling of out-of-placeless. It captures a moment of portraiture, looped continuously and enveloped by a synthetic lavender aroma. An unfixed physical form slowly shifts and displaces, both highly visible and hidden in plain sight. Text, visceral imagery and scent are layered to both create and hinder understanding.
in the midst, between two ferns, a rose between two thorns, stuck in the middle, inbetween days; a woman dreams of being trapped inside the body of a man. not metaphorically you understand. her meat bag is, quite literally, trapped within his. she can feel warm lumps of flesh in places that feel foreign. a body inhabited by a mind; a mind inhabiting a body and visa versa. 2 separate entities sharing a space in a chameleonic pose. bone shifting under muscles tensing under skin; quivering with new sensation.
But before there can be any clarity, a sharp jolt; a rude awakening
ahhh shucks ain’t that a kick in the head. they were vexed, truly perplexed. a mithering pong wiffing in the breeze, eye-wateringly flowing past rugby socks. split, stubbled knees. tippy, tapping fervently. galoshing wetness amongst spandex, gusset-less boxer shorts. bathed with a light from multiple sources, only putting the wood but halfway in t’ole and poised in non-spectacular ambiguity.
in two minds about cherry picking for the best of both worlds with a line drawn in the sand eating cookies and cream like a bloody tyke. have cake, will eat. full chaff, don’t want no wheat. sitting on the fence with troubles packed up making mind up about being bent out of shape, forcing cacked hands to knock socks off so as to bring to heel cold feet by the short hairs to the undetermined, intermediate, central, neutral, fair t’middlin arse end of nothing.
feathered feet, a’gate. be off with you, yonder; where toes can be dipped into the murky, maungy water somewhere between the devil and the deep blue sea yet still arguing the toss about any or all ports in the storm that may bear the brunt of hot and cold blows toing and froing this way, faffin that way, like a whip being cracked by the person conducting themselves to the beat of a different drum, flumoxxed but fettlin. putting feelers out, evading that which is left hanging in the air. still open to persuasion, with a head in the sand, henceforth baht hat. do nowt about.