Writings from Amsterdam
A selection of ponderings, thoughts, responses and poems written in Amsterdam 7-11 June 2023
every era has its own specific colour palette
the restriction of fashion has been replaced by an overwhelming amount of choice where to consume means trying to satisfy a never ending series of new ideals
text for the film is written in the style of influencer platforms – frank, insightful, undertones of narcissism
we associate beauty with truth – what we know about someone is known through their outward appearance
what is the difference between pure desire and actual enjoyment
time and language is handed down to us, not espoused on our own accord
to know that we are both animal and machine
ocean vuong said: “to be a monster is to be a hybrid signal, a lighthouse: both shelter and warning at once”
the question is whether newness brings anything interesting at all – you are the person that cuts through everything else
the body as a constant measure
who owns the way you look
freedom is choosing when to look and when not to look
a simple coffee and croissant
an awning shading strangers
mottled with shadows and almond shaped leaves
they chatter with the comings and goings of time
the titles and the salaries
she pulls out a scrunchie
cup to lips, the sour brew triggers
a rush of what.
the leaves keep glittering
the seeds still fawning
the flowers in the glass are rotting
the chatter continues
the body is no longer a measurement of time,
instead the inane
a soldier’s march of right hands and left hands swinging
the crunchy bit at the end of the croissant
the good mornings and the good afternoons
scrolling up and down
breathe in and out
the cycle continues
one foot down
the other comes up
a cog with no machine
to power
just moving sideways
as the world blurs into a washing line
knees up
push down
heel clenched
toes gripped, calf flexed
glutes warm
head clear
eyes forward
shoulders down then back
elbows inwards
untense, present
stomach soothed
it rises like a bobbing apple
tipping slowly on the edge
the coins millimetres away from the drop
the viewer looks on eagerly
to collect his copper winnings
a minimal reward for seminal labour
an uneven spinning top
lurking on a magnetised slant
the ear yanked down
the sudden weight of the droopy lobe
casts shadows on the peace of the last moment
the mind like a stray cat
phone unlocking like a blinking eye
pull myself from it
back from the raging train
to be reminded that water brings life