The residency took place over 3 days, focusing on collaborative practice and site specific responses. It was devised around the idea of working collaboratively, examining practice in the public realm and site specific responses. The first day involved conversation, discussing ideas and finding locations for work on the ship. Day 2 involved working in situ, and day 3 culminated in final work and an invitation to view work alongside the public.
She was fearful of climbing down into dark spaces or getting up long ladders, and wanted to know if anyone else had such strong experiences related to moving around the boat.
Thin wooden walls, which partition me from records and the noise of the food being prepared. I sleep in a warm, cocoon, a sleeping bag with my head cocked to one side. I can hear passing motor ships through the cold steel plates and the racket and ping of their passing screws.
The sleeping is a safe cocoon, 200 miles from my wife, who I miss, but it’s a stress free environment as we gently move on the sea. I count down the hours and days, when I start the long homeward trek across the continent, through the flat desolate farmland of Holland and I still miss the ship, and remember the sadness at reaching the shore again, remember the job and the gladness of the homecoming, but equally look forward to the experience again in the safe floating cocoon
Dark, shiny, and cold, maybe somehow comforting, even though it isn’t a comforting space, not like isolated but separated
Went into a space with 3 cylinders used to make a foghorn sound and there is a hole where you can put your head in and the outside of the cylinders reverberate inside, its extraordinary the space is dark and only lit by whatever torch you have its deep down a ladder
The world doesn’t exist never got the news
Affinity with the sea listening to them reminiscing without words looks like a bird a landscape of life on the sea shared of other spaces a re-enactment of a space somewhere else
