F rag ment’s

10/07/17
Will it never end? How can I be sure I won’t become what has gone before? So brutal, so bitter, pull the shutters down keep it out the dark, seeping, gelatinous, sticky, goo. Disown or disconnect, KEEP YOUR DISTANCE. If I wrap myself in tape, red and yellow. It will be a warning keep out, keep out, keep out…

09/07/17
I would like to make a vase for nettles. Tonight there is a thunder moon.

06/07/17
Spinning in a circle for 2 minutes and 41 seconds I could only manage to make the smallest of sounds amidst the orchestra of cement mixers. Grimaldi isn’t even under there he is on the other side of the park.

05/07/17
There is a small space between two wards that is full of butterfly’s.
Tonight I will attach two clown masks to my face and project roses over the top.
I am wild type red+.

03/07/17
Where is the wild gene? What is the wild gene? What compels us to protect and preserve the wild?
The ceiling was covered in gold glitter and there was a man pouring salt from a silver vase, his face hidden behind a beaded curtain. Lucifer and Scorpio rose the biker imploded. Trying hard to unclasp there is a strange security in holding tight to magic.

01/07/17
K has a tattoo on her arm it’s her name in another language. She got it done in Selfridges so In the event of her death she an be identified. K has paid for her funeral in advance; her plot is above her mother; she has a gold certificate.

29/06/17
A large house with unusually high ceilings. In every room there was a wound across the centre of the wallpaper. Each one had been repaired to its former floral glory,blues, pinks,reds. We weren’t in England. A lot of us went out to a long red boat. T was there again he was colouring in reluctantly. At my feet were flowers in green sand, walk on them and they disappear. He went to hold my hand but didn’t, perhaps it was to soon or we were to old for it but in no hardened way.

28/06/17
The crane was to close there was to much pressure the windows fell away. It wasn’t violent just twisted. Lost under red velour. I was looking for my white shoes in a large house that wasn’t mine. I had broken into make a cup of orange tea. My friends were waiting outside but I didn’t leave. T was there did we leave together? At the moment I do find it difficult to breathe.

26/06/17
Marinti and me have played our first notes.

23/06/17
The Dapple is still being talked about at a school nearby. The forbidden fruit perhaps wasn’t an apple but a citroen, a kind of knobbly lemon. The puritans striped out the maypole. Unnecessary is like unknown, it’s deemed dangerous because it can’t be contained or completely understood. It’s like an evaporating cloud. Let there be music, laughter, dancing, art, nudity and maypoles.

22/06/17
A wilding the pip of a cultivated apple throw out of a car window and found growing on the side of the rd.
If you can’t be troublesome then what? How to work in a place thats stopped caring? How to give a gift the recipient refuses. At one time flowers were feared because of their the pagan associations. Perhaps the cultivated rose is not tame at all. Garlands and head dresses, floral carpets and a bath full of petals. Let’s do more not less. The Persians made carpets of flowers and then grew gardens in the same shape. Its time for a floral explosion.

21/06/17
The sirens are still going or perhaps they were always there. Re wild not backwards but forwards. It is something fragmentary, moving, beyond thought, plural,stretchy,bio,living. A deep pool a long note a cry and laughter.

20/06/17
A whole room of golden chairs in a building where it seems every wall is panelled in wood. Tomorrow everyone here will wear hot robes. A few people shuffle by, this is another world. One with a moat of security barriers . A woman with long grey plaits changes the off milk. You can still hear the sirens but they are muffled/ muted.
In one of these wooden rooms that looks over Thames the conversation wanders off and finds itself surrounded by wild chaotic trees in faraway apple woods. Unbound, nameless, unclassified and governed by bears. A right muddle, a wild stock in the heavenly mountains that must be protected at all cost.

16/06/17
I didn’t know her well but I knew her and I liked her. Her card is on my bedside table, what do you do with that?
THE SIRENS HAVE STOPPED.

12/06/17
Neat women in white and navy blue shout out their credit card details, booking tickets for Hokusai secure in their polite places.
The sirens and propellors haven’t stopped. Its blazing in London. A tragedy. A child was thrown from a 10th floor window. A couple, a silhouette, a mercy flag.
75 or 74?
I met a dusty arrogant man in Roehampton who will possibly be there forever. Red and white flags are in places they should never be.
The sirens are still going …

10/06/17
The piles of the past are smaller now.

09/06/17
Just enough to hope.
When I am 99 I hope I will have lived like an octopus. Connected, complicated, frequently found near wild water and loved really loved .Of my eight legs
1 will play the accordion
2 will make places for friends to gather
3 will play
4 will travel
5 will make things
6 will swim in cool lakes and wild seas
7 will read and maybe write a fragmented book
8 will always not know

07/06/17
’This is random I know but you have beautiful feet’ words from a stranger at Finsbury park tube station at 9.16 this morning. Now that I have written it down his passing words they are in some way permanent unless of course I delete them.
In my hand is a golf magazine and a blue package, a gift from my mother to my brothers girlfriend a picture of him as a child? Symbolic but how? relinquishing, retaining, reminding, releasing?
My old friend the map man is going back to the Bauhaus to make beautiful things. He’s the youngest oldest man I am ever likely to meet.
What will stay with you forever? Nothing.

Will inspector Sands please contact the control room.
Will inspector Sands please contact the control room.
Will inspector Sands please contact the control room.
Will inspector Sands please contact the control room.
Will inspector Sands please contact the control room.
Will inspector Sands please contact the control room.
Will inspector Sands please contact the control room.
Will inspector Sands please contact the control room.
Will inspector Sands please contact the control room.

06/06/17
One minute of silence in a service station on the M2.

04/06/17
The someone is the you inside you. We can choose what we think about. Who are they? Lets smash the giant egg and have a party! Life has a capital L. Truth has a capital T.

01/06/17
In pursuit of groundlessness. I am naked this afternoon. Octavia the Octopus tends to her 1000’s of infertile eggs. A man drove to Barcelona in a car fuelled by vegetable oil. I don’t fit in the room that is as wide as my arm span. Am I the Joker?

24/05/17
Family 3, Security 0, Money or Wealth 15, Independence and freedom 69, Adventure 72, Friendship and Companionship 63.

17/05/17
I kept driving but I never arrived. I left the car. I got lost again.
There was a dog, fierce, tawny brown. The old boy’s arrives they wanted to drink teachers, the building turned into a supermarket.
I sat on a white plastic tray and hurtled through claustrophobic snow filled tunnels.
Two blonde two girls one with only one arm and the other naked apart from a pale green apron texted imaginary boyfriends.
In the end it was just the two of us.
He turned to kiss me I turned away
I …

11/05/17

From now on I will always cut avocado’s the short way round.

10/05/17
Lucy Lucy Lucy Lucy Lucy Lucy Lucy Lucy
Red red red red red red read
Read read read read red red read
Lucy read red read red Lucy red Lucy
Read Lucy red dear read read dear
Dear Lucy read red
Dear red read Lucy
Dear read Lucy red

09/05/17
SSSI a site of special scientific interest. A man who has worked at the hospital for 40 years has never seen a wild orchid.

05/05/17
Keys to four places as many as a millionaire. What do you need to make it look like you live there. A bed, a blanket, a towel and a toothbrush. Arranged, bunched or scattered?
Mumbai/Bombay/ Mumbai/Bombay a place I spent three weeks in but my feet never touched the ground.
A gift, a crate of mangos arrived by plane. To be eaten messily by my brother and I in a basement in Brussels. In Delhi at the same time they were being poured into a bucket of ice by a grandmother for her grand children to devour.
Is there always sacrifice in the giving of a gift?

26/04/17
White bluebells and hail are disrupting the violet blankets. H U M A N a human bare to the elbow in shadow. White, yellow, violet not blue. A man and a woman hold hands tightly.

20/04/17
Close up is cloudy but somehow clearer. Could I sign my name as constellation? A kaleidoscope of fragmented sounds. Sleepy bee’s come to visit occasionally. When they realise they are trapped they whirl anxiously. Almost all escape but today I found one curled up on the floor, defeated.

10/04/17
Not to close just over there people are dying.
Taking a bubble bath in the afternoon looking for antennae out of the window.

06/04/17
A man in a blue apron runs into the wood to find a bench to smoke to breathe.The landscape is littered with people in uniform maroon, bright green, and a colour a bit like that door a turquoise type. Why make things so complicated a rose, carnation or a sweet pea. Spring is yellow, purple and white. What is the arrangement? An arrangement in all one colour does white count? A lady wants to lie in a field of poppies.
The red rose is mine, like apple and the toadstool. This rose is half real, half artificial, freeze dried or silk only half dies. It is red red half tactile half digital no… that comes later thats for all of them.

Not forgetting the red shoes and the red balloon how about a red plastic lilo and stilts.

29/03/17
In the woods, always in the woods alone… apples, roses, toadstools. There is often blood, hands, mirrors, a bite, a prick, spinning wool, painting, men, danger, darkness, a gift, temptation, a path, wolves, beasts, fur and a hood.
Swinging in a synthetic red net hammock imported from china. Wrapped in a 100% fake fur wrap.

28/03/17
Human/ flower hybrid the double flower is the queen. Elicit a Duchenne smile. Symmetry, colour, odour, one day we will be able to grow people like we grow roses or make the oil without the people, does that mean blood without bodies?
To dispense, distribute, pass round, hand out. Once upon a time there was a rose day… Beauty and the Beast a disembodied arm. They can be candy, attar, pot pourri or tea . Often white becomes red. Rose is a rose is a rose…
As for the daisies why where the clowns searching for them?

17/03/17
Gray’s anatomy, mushrooms, clouds and the microscopic flaws in metals and plastics. Bought from one of those places where there is a slightly manic man behind the counter sharing his thoughts on molecules and inverted triangles.
Even the magenta rum punch in the Green room couldn’t penetrate. Someone has turned the fan up full its cold. The scaffolding might be falling down and the flying bags are taunting me.
Who was the big white anthropomorphic bear who lay next to me? If I was ten years older or you ten years younger someone said yet again. The black hole is getting larger and slightly less comical. What happens if you jump off the zig zag? Why am I here? A Japanese man sent a bonsai tree to the moon …it didn’t come back.

23/02/17
You blew clean away right over the rooftops.
Today the wind is making the world dance.

05/02/17
The girl at the crossroads looked just like you, she caught my attention. When I got on the tube she was sat opposite. I did not know then that that was the last day of your life.

31/01/17
I dreamt I was crouched down with my head on the floor encased in lego … blue lego.
I have been scrubbing the floors, painting the walls and dealing with mouldy sausages.
I am trying to remember to play … sometimes I succeed. G helps.
I often wonder why I am not?
What monster is lurking through the fog?

30/01/17
‘I was much to far out all my life and not waving but drowning’
Stevie Smith former resident of Palmers Green

12/01/17
Last night I shared my bed with an anxious cat called Hector. She is lonely.

07/01/17
I want to be under the sea in an octopus’s garden in the shade… ohhh I wan’t to be…

06/01/17
Everything just keeps coming back around.

02/01/17
Lost in Brazil, drinking avocado coffee and eating single marshmallows of small saucers with M who was wearing a pair of very ill fitting shorts…

09/11/16
She grumbled loudly behind me we are adults why these foolish/ childish things?

05/11/16
Farewell burgundy weekend. Is burgundy bitter? perhaps not…
A few hours in a place with to much blue. I never knew accidental sunlight could make such straight paths.
If you have been East go South and vice versa.
It is possible men on bicycles don’t always know where they are going.
Can she, will she, ever …???

In Autumn occasionally Dapples float to the surface.

21/10/16
I thought I was on land but actually I am underwater.
On land I am parched, dry packing for yet another journey to find the centre of the sea saw. In the sea, a pool or a moon lit lake I am still… I have arrived.

19/10/16
‘The written word is a fairy, as mocking an elusive as willy wisp’ HM Lud
Company can be found in a cafe.
Nothing is not necessarily a place I want to visit. If there is nothing and everything is unknown then Who am I?

A TINY MYSTERIOUS DOT lost in a LABYRINTH OF DREAMS.
Eating MOONGRASS CHEESE off PLATES WITH APPPLE GREEN BORDERS with a DRAGON in the DARKNESS.

While SILENT PEOPLE wearing UNICORNS HORNs pass through a PLEACHED ALLEY

BY THE SUN THE MOON AND THE STARS
SEMI TRANSPARENT BLUE FIDDLE FISH

ELFIN HILLS

GOLDEN APPLES OF THE WEST APPLEIMP LANE

CINNAMON ISLES

FAIRY FRUIT
MOON MARBLES

SPIRAL STAIRS
CRABAPPLE BLOSSOMS

UNDERWATER ORCHARD
THE NOTE

YELLOW SAND
SHADOWS MOONLIGHT

A MIRROR LIKE A MOON A BELL

12/10/16
It is just me and one small mouse. My mother once barricaded one in a cupboard with chairs. Nasty things she calls them. Can I spend the night here just me and this mouse?
A fairy is almost invisible with wings, a small person just like a mouse.
I am drinking apple fresh wine and my cheeks are going red
There are dapples with salty white specks everywhere.
Like a four leaf clover is my dapple over?

06/10/16
As I walked up towards the fairground stall covered in sweet peas all the powdery violet birds in the troughs at the front flew up.
They pinched my clothes and carried me up high to pick an apple from the tallest tree.
I return to the fairground stall and exchanged my apple of a sickly sweet slice of cake.

04/10/16
I am up high in the map mans powder dyed palace surrounded by see through doors. I dreamt he put a bicycle in my bed.
My white towel is on the edge of the white enamel washing machine.
On every wall hangs a part of the world with a hole burnt through it, accidental islands. The light is warm and the walls want to know where next? The Gulf of St Lawrence or the Lands of the Eastern Mediterranean? It’s raining but I don’t want to wear shoes. It’s cold but I won’t put on a jumper. I am hungry but I can’t eat.
The red brick brick building that had its insides on the outside and stairs heading no where is gone. If I look out of the watery glass windows I remember that sometimes I was sad here.
White waterfalls cascade in every doorway. One of the white ribbed vests has escaped from the pile and is dangling elsewhere. I sleep in a small room in a bigger room protected by white cotton from a special place not far from here. All is swaying in tune with the white hammock.
On the study table is an upside down map being gently repaired with white fabric tape.
I pass by a mirror, the only reflection is mine, there is no map man.

01/10/16
I met a girl with a name like a chocolate who is afraid of moving to a wood eight hours away. The oud keeps on going. A man from… actually I am not sure quite where and I chopped vegetables from two different gardens in the east of the city. A blonde haired boy stared intently at the radishes. J added masala, wine, butter together we sprinkled cheese. I sat on a step I have swept before. I behave the same but I am not. G has made a game about the strange man that hoards things in the attic. I cooked a meal for many people I don’t know and some I almost do. S bought along candles and a glow in the dark squirrel. The corridor is lined in gold with a red velvet curtain.

30/09/16
It’s an experiment that feels like it might go wrong. Is it a strange thing to return? The M’s are still spinning. What am I doing here? A clear plastic lightless chandelier has appeared in the cupboard on the stairs. The pictures are curling and peeling off the wall. Short hair has grown long.
There is a new record shop a the end of the street in a building that has lain empty and floor less for over 20 years. The flat on the 4th floor is finished.

15/09/16 Dapple
I will give my love an apple without e’er a core
I will give my love a house without e’er a door,
I will give my love a palace wherein she may be,
But she may unlock it without any key
My head is the apple without e’er a core,
My mind is the house without e’er a door
My heart is the palace wherein she may be
And she may unlock it without any key

07/10/16
For two weeks now I have been healing
The promise of a gentle sway in the morning sun ended with a thud
I spent a week by wild sea
I am now on top of a Portuguese hill
In a town with two taps that have been running for 159 years.
Nothing happens here
Everything is a constant flow
The clock is late but it chimes on time
There are not interruptions
The accordion man plays every morning
The man in the haberdashery sleeps
Three ladies gather on a bench at dusk
In a square that is not square
A pigeon place with very few pigeons
Often people pass with flowers
There are four funeral directors in the town
A man in a peach shirt and a short haired lady on a bench
Two loud ladies who just don’t notice
A girl in green pauses on a bicycle
A beeping horn
Two loud ladies who just don’t notice
The man in the peach shirt leaves
The girl in green can stay
A cat walks along the roof tops
The loud lady pauses
The girl in green crosses the zebra crossing
A car passes through
The clock is five minutes late
A man holding a hat sits on a low wall
A black cat pauses
A man on the phone passes through
The girl in green rests on the giant heart
Conversations continue
The man on the wall with the hat is still there
Two ladies pass through
A car starts
A man with a scythe is talking to the lady in navy blue with dark glasses
Mass has finished
A man with a stick walks his dog
The man with the scythe is not happy
A lady collects water
A man laughs
The girl in green hugs her knees
The clock is still late
Two girls play with a beach ball
lady bring the girl in green a cake
The man in the hat has left the wall
Another man with a hat is still here
The lady in navy blue with dark glasses is still here
Two birds dance
A young girl comes to get water
The girl in green finishes her cake
Conversation continues
The girl in green rocks
The clock is late
The girl in green plays the recorder
The other man with the hat is still on the bench
A dog barks
The clock is still late

22/09/16 Dapple
Shadows and fiddle fish
Glass/ light and the union of black and white
A long eared pale blue moon rabbit
Pocket stones and glass buoys
Spiral stairs and gilded cracks
A mirror like a moon for company

17/08/16
Becalmed …
I am sat on a wooden bench with my feet on one of those round tables made from electrical cables. I am cold but it is hot.
The field is full of rabbit holes.
Down there are fragile blue rabbits with unusually long ears.
The wind feels good on bare skin
I want to take a moonlight swim…

11/08/16
The slow evolution of the apple, rose and the toadstool
The double apple is it the dapple, both dappled and double and one of two rivers in Lud.
There is an underwater orchard that currently lives somewhere along the River Cam from time to time during Autumn its dapples escape and appear on the surface of the water.

10/08/16
I found the elusive pool.
A locked gate quickly unlocked
Another world, one which tomorrow I will be granted a key to.
The sun dances under the surface of the water in a somewhat frantic kaleidoscopic way.
I acquired a branch from an apple tree. It is possible it is infused with the thoughts of some beautiful minds that I will never meet.
There used to be a swing in the orchard.
The wood is carpeted in poison ivy, stinging nettles and miniature apples, bright red it colour huddled on top of sweet green stalks.
Bare feet and a deck chair.

09/08/16
‘I live on honey, eggs, and milk, prepared for me by an old lady like an apple (especially in face) and sit all day in a rose garden to work’ Rupert Brooke

“They talked to us of an imaginary world of theirs, where the river was milk, the mud honey, the reeds and trees green sugar, the earth cake, the leaves of the trees (that was odd) ladies’ hats, and the sky Robin’s blue pinafore. Robin was the smallest. The sun was a spot of honey on Robin’s blue pinafore: which, indeed, duly appeared… “What would happen”, said the imaginative Dudley, early in the afternoon, “if you were all in a tree, and at the bottom a big bear sat and waited, so that you couldn’t come down?” “The bear” they told him calmly would die after a little.”
Rupert Brooke

I was telling a lady in wooden room about my alarming twilight alarm clock. It sounds and I wake rigid as ballast from an old ship. Still, aching just as I begin to melt the sound comes again and again.

She told me about a large object in a garden in Suffolk. It turned out to be an abandoned pea hen with a peacock partner. So noisy was it jumping on the roof and squaring at cars that she tried to lure it away with bread soaked in brandy. In despair she tried to shoot it out of the tree but it stuck fast that wise peacock. In the end it was she who had to move on.

A broken vase mended with golden slip…
A natural pool for swimming
Can one be bohemian anymore? and live by wild water in a caravan with five children.

08/08/16
There are times when the line between the worlds is thin. The door of the wardrobe is a little ajar. If you make the choice to give your all you might find shelter or a five point star.
Submerged

06/07/16
The wood between the worlds
A wardrobe made from wood grown from a Narnia apple pip.

04/07/16
‘Penelope’s web, woven, unwoven and woven again’ Jim Ede
Light, shade darkness and darker. Carried into a strange life, blind folded.

29/06/16
An examination of faerie lore
What is the masculine of faerie?
What is the meaning of hobgoblin/ witch/ travelling carpet/ wizard/ ogre/ a ring of darkness/ a wishing cap/ a magic wand.
Fairy or faerie?
An Alice Exam
Why should apples always be called their French name in wonderland?
An almost fairy creature hoarding painted toys in his paris flat
Holophrase the prelinguistic use of a word to express a concept
Fairy Fruit

27/06/16
A house furnished with experiments. How can a place be a fairytale? What happens when someone tries to make real whats in their head. To really see it.
There is vulnerability in arranging
It is therapeutic to take time to look

26/06/16
As soon as its caught you spoil it somehow
The beauty is in that minute, second moment
Things can’t be recreated
Remember the fairy fruit and the door to Narnia
Lucy was the first to go through it.
When I was young my friend and I climbed a blossom tree and the branch snapped off.
We stitched it back on with celloptape, string and multicoloured wool. It stayed up for awhile but not long it couldn’t be mended.

20/06/16
The Journey out… from Kettles with apple’s.
Plates with apple green borders hang above the long wooden table near Ben Nicholson’s Apples and Pears.
A way of life, a way of love, simplicity, hospitality, beauty.
Unsystematic, simply a collection that changes very slowly. A refuge of peace and order.
The gift of arrangement, re arranging, balance.
A collection is a different way to encounter art. Galleries are like zoo’s for art with slippery floors.
There are no people in the pictures.
Slow time, knowledge and space. A relationship to the natural, spiral shells and circles a lemon that gets replaced everyday.
Vellacot lived in an orchard, someone talked about Samuel Palmers blossom tree.
A utopian idea of america the big apple, a travel fund.
I left Wolfson and went to the Whipple where I found a cabinet full of pomological models of wax apples made by an artisan and used as teaching aids.

13/10/15
The same frazzled lady and her son who were on the plane last time are here again. Two eyes are open to welcome me home but the door is locked and I don’t have a key. Sleeping on the other side I have a window for my head and one for my toes. Lost in Leipzig. Should we return to the places we have left? How do we remember a feeling? It’s the 10th of the 10th at 10. Almost all is illuminated. Chinks of warm light peek out behind dark curtains. Another light is dancing on sheets of silvery foil. Someone has written love on the window. On the fourth floor people eat fish soup; in the basement pancakes and there is a Spanish tortilla walking around searching for a home. The queeng is showing a documentary. I have seen the very same story about different people in a different place. I woke up in a bed from a fairytale and opened a book full of colourful maps. For the Saturday Museum and I it is time to go back to our other home. Thank you all for looking after us so well. I think we may have swallowed one of Hilde’s windows. We nearly left behind the key to our own front door.

21/09/15
This week The Saturday Museum shared a light dinner with friends around tables made of old doors. It is getting colder outside but we were warmed by a candle moon. Someone left the story of a cat who followed a line of light to get to the lady with the bright eyes. Two ladies talked about empty train stations and wild wolves. There are doors with small doors inside them. What would it mean to turn a spy hole inside out? Wax runs into uninvited spaces. The sky above Eisenbahnstr. is pastel in colour. On the last day the sun bought in through the window two flashes of rainbow coloured light. We came we left we saw the clouds we will come back again soon. The Saturday Museum has been thinking about space. We don’t own space; we borrow space we share space. We asked a question. How can Hilde open her eye’s and smile and wave to the street? On the 10th Of October from 8-11 we hope to have another light dinner in the stairwells please do join us…

14/09/15
I saw a white rabbit on the second floor. You can climb the wooden ladder in the attic and put your head out a hole into the sky. Photographing holes, chasing holes, loosing holes, finding holes wondering how to fill holes. The building opposite is covered in eyes. Front/ back/ interior/ exterior/ reveal/ conceal/ dream/ reality/ visible/ invisible. A man upstairs is fixing a holey map and painting patterns on unfinished doors. I have been making small boxes of moving light. Gifts for strangers and friends. The Saturday Museum has become nomadic as opposed to itinerant. It’s wish is to be a member of a constellation. Blue nights, multicoloured sky’s, thinking how best to become gently visible. Simple things a candle, a bulb, a smile. White light, black light, coloured light. A live house is not still. It moves, it flickers.

07/09/15
It has been sometime, The Saturday Museum and I have been thinking of you. The eyes to my door are all taped up. I open and close them and open them again. An eye open to the night is human. This building is holey it breathes. There is a new lamp operated by touch. Two gifts, a wire key and a letter on the chair from England. The key cupboard is now being used for real keys. The letterbox is full of mail most of it unopened. Dark and light, light and dark a fine warm line under a closed door. The other day I met a Friesian farmer who told me that every August thousands of stars fall out of the night sky.

01/06/15
I am opening and closing my eyes. I arrived, I left, I returned, I have gone again but I will be back soon. This week the Saturday Museum and I spent most of our time on the stairs. Filling a broom cupboard with ladders, drinking coffee in dusty places and talking and laughing with the people that pass by. A neon sign arrived that says open. Two people walked past each carrying a mannequins leg. An actor and a painter who have been married for 45 years sheltered in the doorway from the rain. By accident I opened my door to a friend and one hundred and fifty people stopped by. A smile, a wave an open door. What is an entrance and what an exit? I think we will make a book that has no front or back but can be read both ways. I returned my keys but have left behind a letterbox look out for mail. See you all soon…

25/05/15
Bricoleur a beautiful word told to me by a lady full of life who met her husband when she was a clown and he a journeyman. A bricoleur is person who constructs bricolages, using whatever materials are available. A door opens and closes, a bell rings there are footsteps on the stairs, a knock, a smile an accidental encounter with a lady who made music with friends in an old warehouse full of switches. Leipzig breathes there are trees coming out of windows and young boys weaving through railings to find secret places. After a long walk we (The Saturday Museum and friends) nearly got locked in a graveyard. Yesterday I got left behind in a building full of broken windows and doors. There is a small cupboard on the stairs I have fixed the window. Today I wonder if perhaps not all doors are open to everyone.

18/05/15
From London to Leipzig and back again. Locked out breaking in, a new letterbox, keys coming down from above on a string. A chance meeting with a lady who makes coffee for people on a bridge. On Saturday I sat for awhile on the front step but no one came. A smile, a wave a knock on the door. A new friend to walk with who showed me a building with windows made of doors.
A boards in entrances, paintings on walls. Elephants and dinosaurs looking down from above. Open windows and ivy filled doorways in graveyards. The Saturday Museum and I have been dangling our feet over the window ledge and sweeping the street Entrances & Exits continues.

04/05/15
This week I bought a box of keys. The owner of the shop gave me another key to his other place. I let myself in. Inside I found many door handles. I visited a school in the south by a cloud machine. The students talked about the doors they like to pass through. I walked the heating pipe in Lene-Voigt-Park. There you can find ladders without rungs, a lost sofa and an almost invisible tree house. The sun is still making triangles in my room. At Hilde I washed the widows and cleaned the front step. I have been drinking a lot of happy tea and coffee served out of windows. Next week The Saturday Museum will host its first walk please do join us.

27/04/15
The Saturday Museum and I are settling in well to our new home on Hildergardstra. We have learnt how to light the big oven; seen dove gymnastics; eaten pide; visited the big M’s and met some of the friendly neighbours. Our trip to the German countryside has helped to clear out the last of the London cobwebs and now we are ready to get to work. This past week spent at the Atelier House and an accidental find at the flea market has sparked us thinking about Entrances & Exits…

01/10/14- 30/10/14
There is calesita in a square where the ghost of an old warehouse looms over a park
A solitary girl roller skates
The old man sweeps the floor
He holds out a wooden pear for the small boy to catch so he can have another spin
Yellow and red roses grow up the barbed wire
Why are all these strange creatures in this cage?

The old man and the old woman who takes the money are chatting and drinking mate
The lone girl chooses the white horse

Then the gold one

The small boy is more interested in the rides on the sides

The calesita squeaks and creaks

The lights come on

In the morning there is a single O of light on the floor, a miniature moon
I am the horse that escaped the cage

I no longer need to go round and round

I still find myself doing it in this city, round trees in a circular park
I want to play in a different way

What is the future?

There are grids and circles and circles in grids and circles out of grids
I do keep thinking about the sad girl in the Mickey Mouse costume…