I present to you a new face. More ephemeral with much less volume. Perhaps the shifting aesthetic pleases you, perhaps not. Either way, I find it more in que with what I'm trying to extricate from me to you...
This is a beautiful video from a wonderful little collective that I recently stumbled upon; it also is a good point of departure for this new face and, well, where I happen to be right now...
In addition to its very mesmerizing/hypnotic quality, it brought about a kind of i.)questioning and ii.)thinking for me.
That which is thinking(ii) is the eloquent pattern of synchronized movement--which, in turn, is just a meditation or variation on relation. Relation and dynamic. As base as it is to remark on the unhindered and innate skill of such creatures to move autonomously, together, and in safety--not colliding. And, taking that, remarking on the pattern or interplay of movement within a greater entity. More abstractly put: singularity within singularity. It intrigues and encourages the notion that Being dwells in movement. At least the expression or manifestation of being's relationship to other Beings. Relational movement.
That which is questioning(i) actually springs from an entire consideration of my relationship with Pigeons. Not entirely pigeons as a species: a cooing, smattered, omnipresent pestilence; yet not entirely pigeons as a concept either (as best one can transform creatures into a concept!). I think about the time from my childhood where, in a violent (psychotic, perhaps?) bout of rage and frustration my father climbed to the top of our 3-story Victorian house in Springfield and kidnapped the recently-hatched baby pigeons from their nest on our roof, proceeding to decapitate each of them. Following their quick deaths, my father and I hung the heads from the four corners of our roof. Later that night, I remember having a panic attack after being so overwhelmed with fear and the vivid image of someone coming and forcefully removing my head whilst finishing my supper alone in the kitchen. I remember having difficulty falling asleep weeks later for fear of someone cutting off my head. I was no more than 8 at the time. I still do not understand why my father brought me along with him on this terrible task of murder--certainly not the highlight of his parenting career. Two things are certain, however: the first one being that we never had pigeons again at that house, and the second that it was the most terrifying memory of my childhood.
I am also reminded of taking pride as a hunter of pigeons as a middle schooler. My best friend and neighbor, Ashton and I made clay throwing darts and rid our neighborhood of pigeons by patrolling the streets after school. Our pursuit was not explicitly motivated by a loathing for the creatures, but more a feeling as though I had succeeded at something, regardless of the seeming triteness of such a task.
And a third instance of taking such joy in the art of chasing and stalking pigeons from my days in Paris. I remember having entire joyous discourses on the proper techniques for pigeon kicking while strolling through le Jardin de Luxembourg, or chasing them while bombing down the road next to the canal between Place de la République to la Bastille....
...and so, it seems that upon reconsideration of pigeons, I realize that I quite enjoy bullying the little winged rats. Upon more careful consideration, I realize that their entire perception and treatment is a misnomer. I also realize the importance of the aesthetic they add to not only a city scape, but the conceptual aesthetic of the purely ephemeral. So ephemeral that their presence is even something to be forgotten, and it is the perceived effect of their appearance that comes into being and consequently passes away. So, to the new face, and to a newfound appreciation and love for the Pigeon: the concrete creeping kings of ephemeral rapture!
So here's a real pretty remix of Baths's Hall, check it, real lovely:
Baths-- Hall (The One AM Radio Remix Feat. The Los Feliz Ladies Choir)
I'm sitting here, first shift of the week. It's just before 2 and a firetruck/ambulance team just pulled up to the home next to ours. This has spawned two things: me wondering if someone has recently slipped and tumbled down the hole (or may be slipping) and, secondarily, the effect of the lights flashing on the camera on the front door. It creates the somewhat frightening effect of storm and lightning on the street just outside. It's marvelous.
I've spent far too long trying to compose a snippet of change and quality here. I'll wrap it up with another beautiful video by yak productions. This one is to Baths's Animals. See how everything kind of loops into itself now? Here I go again!
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