A strange loop
ila
Neighbourhood: East Coast Park
A detour falls into this scene again. What an aberration each time, the same scene but not quite. I catch it always in the details and always, only when I forget to look for it. Freak sandwich. Same ship at the same spot at different times. 4:15pm, 3:20pm, 9:15am. Same ship at different spots at the same time, 5:45pm. Same person on different days, Tuesday. Sunday. I forgot to note the day today. Different people doing the same things. Same people doing different things. Same, different doesn’t matter, the patterns keep blooming, teasing, tugging. You told me once that the ship is finally coming in. But this ship never arrives. And it never wants to leave. Purposeful times, when I look for it I cannot seem to find it. Stop playing tricks, ship. A string caught into itself is a loop, a strange loop, this strange loop.
Departing from one’s origin only to wind up exactly where one has started out. But what lies contained in this loop, is far from clumsy and is never reckless. That storm of clapping thunder drowning out all sounds, drone rain, heavy. Light bodies moving in water. Rapture, laughter, little fists punching enthusiastically against the weight of rain making me laugh along. Buoyant bodies. Energies more ferocious than lightning. Transforming. Transformed. Suddenly I arrive again, this time quiet bodies, soft pillowed island bodies, dreaming bodies, eyes as sharp as slits with mouths half asleep, relaxed. There is rapture here too, though the breaking is less pronounced. The ship may turn sometimes, no longer twins with curious gazes but the conventional ship, the mother hull bending into a perplexing embrace, with waves for limbs as it gently nudges itself on shore. Water touching sand, touching bodies. Never leaving, almost reaching, always there.
ila
Neighbourhood: East Coast Park
A detour falls into this scene again. What an aberration each time, the same scene but not quite. I catch it always in the details and always, only when I forget to look for it. Freak sandwich. Same ship at the same spot at different times. 4:15pm, 3:20pm, 9:15am. Same ship at different spots at the same time, 5:45pm. Same person on different days, Tuesday. Sunday. I forgot to note the day today. Different people doing the same things. Same people doing different things. Same, different doesn’t matter, the patterns keep blooming, teasing, tugging. You told me once that the ship is finally coming in. But this ship never arrives. And it never wants to leave. Purposeful times, when I look for it I cannot seem to find it. Stop playing tricks, ship. A string caught into itself is a loop, a strange loop, this strange loop.
Departing from one’s origin only to wind up exactly where one has started out. But what lies contained in this loop, is far from clumsy and is never reckless. That storm of clapping thunder drowning out all sounds, drone rain, heavy. Light bodies moving in water. Rapture, laughter, little fists punching enthusiastically against the weight of rain making me laugh along. Buoyant bodies. Energies more ferocious than lightning. Transforming. Transformed. Suddenly I arrive again, this time quiet bodies, soft pillowed island bodies, dreaming bodies, eyes as sharp as slits with mouths half asleep, relaxed. There is rapture here too, though the breaking is less pronounced. The ship may turn sometimes, no longer twins with curious gazes but the conventional ship, the mother hull bending into a perplexing embrace, with waves for limbs as it gently nudges itself on shore. Water touching sand, touching bodies. Never leaving, almost reaching, always there.
BACKYARD explores the phenomenon of how events become news. This collection of reports seeks to create a spatial tapestry of “news” contributed by artists living in different parts of Singapore. By inviting them to document the happenings within their neighbourhoods within specific windows of time, BACKYARD presents artists’ documentations as news reports spanning across 12 months. Each report contributes to a year-long narrative map of Singapore, positioning the artist as reporter. BACKYARD is an art space that takes place in the form of dossiers containing news reports by Singapore based artists.