I've spent the last week doing an international interactive art thingy called "six_events". It's a little difficult to describe, so I recommend going here to understand what it was all about:
http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=280211565The main body of this will be the reports I sent each day to the organiser, Matthew Lee Knowles. Each daily report also contains references to photographs. They can be found here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/10634308@N03/sets/72157603801879566/1 - BUS. Mon 21/01/08Well, that was odd.
The idea was to take an unpremeditated bus ride, and since I normally cycle to work I was wondering how to fit it in. It seems the fates decided.
I got up this morning to torrents of water falling from the sky - a bus ride had been decided for me! This required getting some cash out of the machine at Asda and breaking it at a paper shop (Asda being closed). I'm of the sort of age that won't give a bus driver a tenner.
After that, catch the bus to work from Radcliffe Bus Station - not the least depressing place in the world, especially at 6.45am (see pic day 1-1).
Disaster - the paper shop was shut!
A walk was required to find another paper shop for change and then another bus stop. Both were found, but neither were especially nice (qv. day 1-2). An unpremeditated beginning to my journey.
When the bus eventually arrived at 7.20, it was getting quite full (day 1-3). It's amazing how so many people can be so quiet in such a small place, each sitting entirely on their own next to someone, listening to the windscreen wipers' rhythmic squeeeeeeek. Everyone has such protective body language, covering themselves with newspapers, bags and hands folded on laps - including me. It smelled of rainy coats and faint tobacco and Monday-morning-don't-want-to-go-to-work-ness.
How to decide where to get off? Fortunately a woman - about 30, black and slim with a plastic bag on her lap - had sat down beside me, so I let her decide. Also fortunately it was at 7.45 at the stop before Bolton Bus Station where I normally get off (day 1-4). I'd like to give that angel a small vote of thanks for saving me another soaking.
As an extra prize, I saved the ticket. (day 1-5)
2 - ROAD. Tue 22/01/08I found my magickal road through my complete inability to find hi-vis gloves in Bolton. It turned out to be, at least temporarily, the road with no name. So at 2:25pm I got off my bike and pushed around the corner, to be faced by the back end of a wagon, evidently called Smitty (day 2-1).
Whatever it's called, it's a noisy road that rises up and down like Newton's gravity - what goes up above the railway must come down beyond the railway (day 2-2). No apples fell on my head.
This is a road which keeps its dangerous buildings behind bars (day 2-3) - possibly to stop them from attacking unsuspecting situationists pushing their bikes - although the elephant on the pavement gave me some very good advice for life (day 2-4). The shouting of the children from the school across the road threatened to drown out the traffic.
Finally at the end of the road, and at the end of about ten minutes' pushing, the mystery was revealed (day 2-5). Green Lane. Hurrah!
So it's back on the bike and off to the modelling gig.
Oh, bugger. I forgot to clap!
3 - BUILDING. Wed 23/01/08I've had to cheat a bit on this one!
The building I entered at 7:45 this morning was the one in and outside of which I work - The University of Bolton, specifically the caretaker's office.
I've seriously discovered the building today. I've discovered how hard it is to get full filing cabinets through double doors and that the most popular receptionist is leaving in two weeks!
I did get to sit down, but closing my eyes for more than a moment wasn't really much of an option - so I tried to listen to the University. It sounds like people talking, and talking, and talking. Given time surrealist conversations could be created in the style of the cadavre exquis simply by recording the snatches of conversation of the people who walk past a window.
The photo record was simple - four piccies of the office, which I wanted to leave, taken facing South, West, North and East in that order.
It's amazing how easy it is to forget one's intentions when thrown into a world of busy-ness, and I was glad to leave the building for another day, six and a bit hours later at 2pm.
4 - SUPERMARKET. Thu 24/01/08Have you ever felt like Kevin McCarthy in Invasion of the Body Snatchers? I have. It happens every time I walk into a supermarket, and walking up and down the aisles feels like I'm pretending to be a zombie so they don't notice me.
The supermarket I chose was Morrisons in Bolton on the way home from work (day 4-1 and day 4-2). Walking in at around 2:10pm and using my funny little trolley token for the first time. I'm really glad to say that there was no muzak, in fact everyone was remarkably quiet (and wearing invisible blinkers).
My find for less than a pound was easy, a local newspaper for 38p! (day 4-5) The hunt for the thing to relocate was a little harder - until I saw the chocolate Santa leftover from the Christmas displays. Here's the little fella for me! Now where would he be happier?
I found his ideal new home on the magazine rack (day 4-3). I think he'd like to be a male model.
Then I queued to pay (day 4-4)!
What to do with the newspaper? I decided to anonymously donate it to whoever had my bus seat after me.
The overriding feeling on this day's event was nervousness. Why did it feel naughty to take photos in a supermarket? There were signs saying no this and no that, but none saying no photography. Yet, I was still expecting to be thrown out by a security guard.
How's that for social brainwashing?
5 - PUB. Fri 25/01/08This was by far the scariest event of all. I don't like pubs very much anyway and I made a poor choice - I chose the scally pub!
Anyway, on the way to my birthday night out (at a much nicer private nightclub for goths, trannies and other misfits) I chose the Black Lion in Salford for my sixth event (day 5-1, day 5-2).
I entered the pub at approximately 9:25pm, immediately screened out the appalling music and the fact that I was being scrutinised by the Mancunian equivalent of the clientele at The Slaughtered Lamb, and gave the small troll behind the bar my nicest smile.
"Hi, how are you?"
Silence.
"Could I get a glass of water please?"
She refused my offer of payment, so I took the glass to a small table in an, as yet, unoccupied area and photographed it (day 5-3). I then left the pub for somewhere much, much nicer. I was there for a total of three minutes. It didn't even smell pleasant.
Day 6 is going to be a lot more fun.
6 - Park. Sun 27/01/08The last event but not the least enjoyable.
I entered my park at 2:20 pm. Okay, call it a park. It's more of a small field behind a council estate (day 6-1), but it has a kiddies' play area so it's officially a park. It also has coal tits which I stood and watched/listened to for a while, but couldn't photograph because they move too fast for me.
I also, as instructed, looked at the sky. A January sky isn't particularly interesting (day 6-2). Much more interesting was the strange insect-caused growth (day 6-3) on the budding tree (day 6-4), although you can't play golf with it! (day 6-5).
The field also proved itself to be a park by virtue of having a path, seats and doggy-do bins (day 6-6 and day 6-7). Finally, I found that it also had a front gate! (day 6-8). Serves me right for going in the back way.
A cold and dull Sunday doesn't make for an exciting day in the park, there were two other adults and one child on the play area, but the birds were excellent little performers for the 15 minutes I was there. Gone at 2:35 and back home to warm my ears.
Conclusions:Why did I do this? Possibly because I was asked. Part of me wonders if Matthew isn't some odd person who gets off by having people do weird things for him. If he is he's going to be drowning in emails!
Actually it felt a lot like psychogeography, the making of the mundane into something special, the ordinary into something strange. It's a psychological method of living like a Betjeman poem.
Doing weird things like this makes one look at the world in a different way, even if it's only for five minutes, and for all of us that's got to be a good thing.
Love,
Seán
