Sunday, 13 August 2017

Unfolded - The Journey

Hazy memories and extracts from original notepad

based on the 2016 Unfold exhibition at FACT Liverpool by Japanese artist Ryoichi Kurokawa.



I put on my black storm-trooper boots, leave my new apartment, Good Friday, 2016, Upper Parliament Street, Liverpool. Pass the Women's Hospital – memories of the birth there of my beautiful daughter Mia back In 2006.

My universe changed that day – that was the first time I'd witnessed the birth of something amazing (not that Mia is a thing, but you get what I mean – she may kill me for this). I was plunged headfirst into the unknown – Fatherhood – I shat myself (not literally, well maybe a little), but as shat as my pants were, that moment was the happiest I'd ever been. 

I put my earphones into my ears, press play on my more-than-decade old first generation ipod shuffle (still seems really hi-tech to me as I'm barely out of the click-clunk-play cassette era of the Sony walkman personal stereo). Free Bird by Lynard Skynard plays into my brain as I head up Hope Street.

(I'm sitting in the Fact Café after experiencing the exhibition, writing this by hand into my latest notepad. Just finished a coffee and spotted something on the drinks menu called a "Waggle Dance". Not heard of that one before, so I go up to the counter and order it. Turns out it's a honey beer, tastes good too *sups* *continues writing*…)



I pass by the Gothic-style Liverpool Cathedral (my favourite of the two) both cathedrals are like exclamation points in this city – to me they are symbols of the fantastical and otherworldly nature of the place rather than anything religious.








I wander down Hardman Street, pass the bombed-out church and find my way into FACT Liverpool. Inside I take the earphones out and panic at the thought of having to talk to people. 



I meet Steff, one of the curators - "a volunteer" she tells me. Her knowledge of Kurokawa's work is impressive. She tells me of its origins, that Kurokawa worked with NASA and world-renowned scientists such as Vincent Minier – using their actual data on the birth of stars to create his interpretation in a synesthesia of animations and soundscapes.

"How do you spell synesthesia?" I ask after failing to pronounce the word a couple of times. Steff spells it out and points it out in the pamphlet she gives me. I ask her what it means, worried that I may seem rude as I'm writing everything down in my notepad as she speaks. She tells me that synesthesia is the stimulation of a combination of a person's sense receptors to create a sensation in other sense receptors which in reality isn't actually there. We both go quiet as we realise that I don't understand a word of what she just said. 

Thankfully she breaks the awkward silence by asking "Shall I lead you through to the exhibition?". I accept the invitation – she leads me through a black-hole-like dark tunnel entrance to a darkened room – on the way through she tells me to stand as close to the screens as possible. 

I lose sight of her, then the exhibition commences – sparking off all sorts of auditory and visual hallucinations that force me to plunge to the ground and sit cross-legged for stability. Feels like I've been blinded and I'm suffering from Charles Bonnet syndrome (in a good way). I scribble frantically in my pad, trying to take it all in and note everything down. 



Several lifetimes later I shakily rise to my feet and make my way back out of the black hole. I find Steff – knowing smile on her face. "Half an hour," she says "it's on an 8 minute loop you know." She asks if she can be of any further help, but my self-consciousness and nervousness have returned (normality for me) so I tell her it was awesome, thank her and make my way to the Fact Café to write this.







Unfolded 


Black hole entered, fully conscious 
bodies strewn prostrate, semi-lotus 
what happened here? 

Static pulsates, noise and image 
become one 
guttural bass note 
dancing to the rhythm of the universe 

(not a rhythm meant for this flesh, 
I sink into lotus position) 
spatial awareness dissipates 
like sugar in black coffee 
poured into a lake of oblivion. 

The Universe makes love with its own mirror image, 
smells like death and rebirth, 
tastes metallic, like freshly spilt blood. 
The violence, the beauty – countless undulations...  

A burning star is brought forth 
bearing light, 
chaos at its heart. 

We are mere shadows 
cast in this light we don't understand 
hallucinations in peripheral vision 
secreted from the pineal gland. 

Manticores, dragons, faeries, demons, 
all manner of mythical beasts 
born amongst galaxies and constellations, 
countless faces displayed 
in the vast array of nebulae. 

On the other side of the black hole, 
mind, body and soul disassembled 
into stardust, brain spaghettified, 

but then pen waggle-danced on page 
leaving this spring-scent of wild blooming 
Cymbidium Dante's Inferno Harumi Orchid... 


The poem is born. I down the remainder of my waggle dance beer. An old fortune cookie message drops out of my wallet that reads "become who you are". I place it onto the café table to spark someone else's imagination, along with a tip, then leave to pick up my little star, Mia.   




My heartfelt thanks go to Lyndsay Price accomplished poet, mentor and organiser of fantastic monthly event Rhymes and Records (every second Tuesday of the month) for putting me on this collaborative journey. It was only fitting that the poem's live performance cherry was popped at "Re-fold" - the special Rhymes and Records event held at the Jacaranda last year. A fine collection of poets put their interpretation on Kurokawa's work across to an appreciative audience on the night.