Lens #706

Repetition is an imprint on the rebound and a gradual barely noticeable falling away.
We can not even sway lean or topple unless we are rooted to that practice that is struck up over and over again. One end is always grasped out of a knot that spirals into the filaments of finer and finer gradations. These must fly away. That this flight is fixed in an impossible heaviness is not always apparent to the observer who follows the patterns of such scatterings and goes too. Or else it is only the heaviness-the repetition of pushing into that same ground over and over again that captures us rivetting us in that way.
But somewhere along the line there is an admixture, neither one obsessing against the other so that the spiral can be touched and just before its' disassembling when it is blown off-set, can be acted upon. That is a special moment spanning an impossible distance very briefly.

A figure places objects- a marble and a yellow plastic square- on a carpet marked out with roads, roundabouts and traffic lights which are woven into the fabric. The objects are constantly repositioned and become areas of avoidance in which to turn around, swinging and pacing the action. They alone change the direction of the figure as he flows around them. He is a spinning vehicle on a constantly modified traffic system, prepared in advance by his own outstretched hand just before his body arrives. I too sit on the rug in a corner some distance from these objects that I then begin to adjust. Like them I am stationary only manipulating these objects now and again with my hands into other still positions. The figure moves around one way and then the other briefly stopping and swinging his arms before moving back around objects the other way with his back always towards me. Then he starts up again in a different direction. Again he is still with his back to me. Then very suddenly he falls back in a straightened line tilting first the head back from the heels. I catch him with outstretched hands that reach against the plane of his back angling his body to a stop where his fall is restricted by my outstretched arms. We hang like that for a minute. Then he leans to one side, crumbles on to the carpet and rolls away barely separated from the fabric.