A new performance which took the form of a photographic shoot happening in a live context, and featuring a new prose poem written and read by novelist Tom McCarthy. The performance which was commission by Whitstable Biennale 2018 took place in the boat yard building by the South Quay. The piece used a stripped down set with vitrine-like spaces, reminiscent of acoustic pods, as found in office environments and colourful wall panels. Actor/ models enacted improvised and rehearsed actions and behaviours that explore the architectural use of glass to divide and demarcate space .

Originally commissioned by TANK magazine the poem reflected in parallel on the uses of glass – impermeable yet transparent, hindering the transmission of sound and creating areas of display and enactment. In the performance the recording of McCarthy reading the poem was broadcast with an accompanying dynamic soundscape.

LINK TO TANK MAGAZINE

EXTRACT of text by Tom McCarthy originally published in TANK Magazine for photo/poem collaboration:

We may call it a border             

                                                            a clear pool with shining silvery waters

                                                                        provides a freestanding acoustic pod, quiet                                                                                 touchdown spaces, good speech privacy                            

                                                                                                armour of an alienating identity

the nymph whom Cephisus once embraced with his curving stream        

                        brought forth a child                              

                                                            had reached his sixteenth year, at once boy and man

            volleyed by the receiver, bounces for the first time in                                                                  

                                                                        the waters of the Styx

                                                                        (those fluid demarcations)

            a square formed by the short-line                                                           with fixed gaze                                                                        

                                                            without touching any line

                        spellbound by his own self

                                    the opposite quarter-court

                                                enchanted by the beautiful reflection that he saw

                                                from where the server serves

                                                                                    Poor foolish boy

On such limits, and at the limit, one could say

                        talkative nymph                                     makes reconfiguration quick and simple

                                                            has not yet learned to speak for herself

            adding the LogiSon Sound Masking Q2 network

                                                repeats the last word spoken, and gives back the sound that                                                                                                                                           she has heard

                                                                        will reduce cross-talk in these quieter areas

            of unstable territories where an ‘I’ that is forever taking shape                 

                        raises the background noise level in A and C to 43dB thereby providing                           speech privacy and

                                                                        ceaselessly straying

                        Her name is Echo, and she always answers back