So picture this...
It is midday...
The sun is at its peak...
At the zenith of the mornings sojourn into the afternoon...
Two identically dressed figures figures exit a small stationers on a street in Brighton. Their bowler hats and plain black suits speak of business, intention, sobriety... except from the dinnerplate sized, apparently spray-painted, targets emblazoned high up on their backs.
Their simple black briefcases and air of purpose means that as they part on the steps of the stationers with scarcely a word and nothing so unnecessary as a pause, you hardly notice.
But it, in its silent and covert way, has begun.
For the following five hours these two characters saught only one thing... To re-unite.
But how easy is such a task? In days of mobile phones and internet surely finding OneAnother should be easy.
The other thing those identical costumes scream of is an older world (minus the painted targets, obviously), a world of Victorian Bankers, Pre-war Politicians...
As such these two, who are ONE to ONE another, have no mobile phones, GPS and only a shaky outline of the geography of the city by the sein in which they find themselves.
In fact... The only things these characters have are: a biro, a notebook, camera, blank postcards, red envelopes, string, chalk and a clipboard bearing a picture of their opposite number.
In short - Nothing of use.
So 5 hours, limited resources and noticable fashion sense (even in Brighton on a hot Saturday afternoon in June) collude to create a basis for an evening performance these two are appointed to present... but before they get to this, they must look for one another. How hard can that be?
One started by strolling towards the sea front. One thought that One might have been drawn there by the crowds, the noise, the cool breeze...
No luck.
In the exposed midday heat One did get a little warm.
Turning inland and threading back towards the place One lost another, crossing the face of a shopping centre it happened.
Unexpectedly, One was there.
A photo
a chalked date/time marked on the floor
a picture, taken by a passer-by
Few words
Gone again...
meandering downhill One spoke to a street vendor. Sat by his wares in a deckchair... he hadnt seen One. He took a card and promised to get in touch if he saw One.
He's looking for noONE... I told him EveryONE's looking for SomeONE.
One repeated the same with Kat on Gardener Street. She worried i was a weirdo.
She took a card though and said she'd get in touch if she saw One...
I'm not sure she was committed.
Wandering, marking times, noting turns, Street names, people One spoke to.
One Left a message for One on a bicycle in Meeting house Lane.
"I waited here for you...
You didnt show up...
I smoked a cigarette...
in Vain..."
Sealed in a red envelope with a number to call, tied on with plain, grey, string.
One wandered.
One met another once more that day.
Same process as before complete with a stranger taking their picture. It was outside The Bath Store.
The dozen or so people One spoke to were polite, engaged and helpful.
One baked in a black suit with a target painted on One's back.
...
As the afternoon turned into evening One found One and they took to a Pit in a Basement venue on Kensington Street...
Anarchic attempts at relaying their experiences, spread across an urban environment, a mini-sea-shore-city unfold.
One is factual, pedantic, plodding.
One in procative, easily distracted, forgetful.
Reviewing photos, notes and concepts, Reviewing experiences, messages people had text and voice-mailed... trying to let them understand how one felt, how one thought, how one survived, got noticed or ignored...
Whether anyone was any the wiser by the time these two One's had finished did not seem to matter... with splatter marked pockets of information, thoughts and ideas sprayed all over the audience... with an example of the simple un-defined way in which EveryOne's looking for SomeONE presented and exposed to the world... Everyone applauded, said nice things...
One and One's brains were already ticking onwards...
No comments:
Post a Comment