STARTING IN LONDON WITH A COMPASS & A DIRECTION EAST (location black ball)

“…what started off as fast has now become somewhat slow. I think its all the train journeys taking their affect. I have another train journey ahead of me. Glasgow Central direct to Kings Cross or is it Euston: either or I then have to find the dam place when I get there and if its not next to a tube stop then I’m fucked. I do not understand London unless its close in design to the very well designed graphic that maps out the underground system. Buses. They scare the hell out of me. So I will just walk everywhere – like a true nomad. This will take some time but after 6 hours on the train my legs will want to be stretched.

The dam place. The place the thing will happen where we will exchange travel and perform – it will transgress with a non-melodic improvisation of what we made so much effort to melodify. I like that word. MELODIFY.”

There was a location – the location was Tesco “the only large Tesco (black ball) in that area that’s not Tesco Express” – so he was definitely in the right area. I popped my head out the window on the top floor seeing his fluffy blond hair. He had his bike, his lower legs showing to avoid getting the bottom end of his traveller’s jeans stuck in the pedals. Its how he gets around the capital – on his bike. By the time I was at the bottom of the steps he was locking up his two wheels and shouting fish and chips. I took some time figuring out how to release myself from the gates and then we were off – but this time on foot. We were as quick as our minds and quickened by the threat of wet rain towards a disused fountain basin for shelter. I had eaten. I watched him devour his takeaway as we chatted about the day. Its as if we needed to get the niceties out of the way before talking serious business. This took a while. Talking face to face is less immediate than the email conversation we were used to. A lot of crap was in the exchange – unnecessary chat that was essential to get us where we needed to be.

“Last week – it was around about this time last week that we were in London together. I had pad-tai he had fish and chips.

Subtleties – this is what we need – the subtle ties that tie together a full-blown but conceptually “subtle” work informed by a dialogue that is happening now. This dialogue almost happened in a trendy bar in Hackney – where this tale doth lay itself. We’re a bunch of potential collaborators talking shop over a couple of sharky-beers served by an exceptionally fierce French women donning a strapping fringe as high as the confidence she so exuded.

We were chatting about life drawing and how he wanted to use me as a model. This I was not ever so sure about. One thing I was adamant about though was my plan to stay in his flat / studio for five days running up to the performance. Something will happen there – something of dialogue and of substance – sustenance. Draw draw draw draw draw is sustenance as much as food. And light.”

We got where we needed to be after a short cut through a foreboding park that might have been called London Fields. It was a little south I think – towards Bethnal Green – but really I was just following him whilst leading the conversation.

The other side of the park was littered with trendies being sceney: chatting and drinking and spilling out on to the street. We got ourselves to a bar: they were so busy the staff had to down several shots before serving us – this took a while. But it did not matter too much I was entertained by such verbal-farts as “cheers. Here’s to massive cock and sex every day” and “WHAT DO YOU WANT – A GLASS OF WATER?”

Finally we were served and decided there was not much point in talking too much about the work. Our time at the bar with cash in our hands made me realise it’s better to wait and to then do – not pre-empt for this might confuse.

A pity Kimabl didn’t pre-empt the rain though. By the time I got back to the flat and up the stairs it starting pissing it down and he got wet for sure – no fluffy hair just drab dank locks instead. Here’s to a bottle of wine next time pal.

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Hidden Spaces – a month of blogs by members about their hidden space – whether they be real, imagined, unbuilt, cut-off from the public, demolished, spiritually significant or politically sublimated. Read more from the series.