RHYTHM

Rhythm takes a hold to bury from within and explode. The explosions link up to create a new kind of body not limited to the particularities of place with its intrigues of connection and rupture. The rhythm is a rupture out of which bubbles swim upwards. It is not a one off event. It is everything there is. In the cross-currents there are placements – a pressing into place in a certain kind of emphasis into a downward or upward slant, a tilt. These stress-marks energise the medium so that under duress the ground is cut up in such a way that momentum is halted or slurred into a turning, a spin or sudden progression. It reaches so far until it is slammed at a different angle exploding into a new exertion caught on the wing, into a new kind of limb. So the running track is confounded at every leap in which filaments are left behind or intuited like rudders cutting the wave that has yet to swell and in this way it builds into form; a physical entity of propositions that cancel one another out at the very point of upsurge only to clench together to invigorate or dampen the meter. There are intonations of ludicrous extremes that never make it into audibility. Crossed out, reconfigured, back-handed and jump-started in the moment of their near death that becomes the life of the piece as it is worked out number by number squashing decimals together to create a new concoction out of easy extremes. The mid-line is this concoction of two by ones by threes by four. It does not add up into symmetry and the overlap or extra beat is transferred, taken over into a new summation in which it swings out of place the next lap. On and on this goes with the mismatch swinging the comfort zone which begins to operate both in and out of itself until at so many cycles it claps into synchronicity – that gravitational placement of all that is jostling in the body snapped back together into this fairy tale beat like a star bursting and radiating then in that instance plummeting deep into the ground yet still shining. It is this sudden resolution for just one beat or so landing differently across the meter every time it comes around that anchors the breathlessness- a huge swelling or taking in like swallowing a whale. Yet in the next move it is virtual once again and nowhere to be felt in any sense of enclosure. This is how the openness can be tolerated again and again thrusting out of it’s oaring in these sent-over beats that are between any position and question them all. For in continuance these bearings would be the end of the dance, the closure of the rhythm. So they must be tested and usurped all the while remaining a potential on the edge of realisation. This is the irritant incentive of the beast that is played and played into a sense of intimacy at the heart of fear. Feelings are made out of the physical aspect of these beat contradictions as they become bodies; our bodies doing things; existing through an atmosphere which is inciting so many acts and feeling them too. This is the embrace which is the transcript rhythm where death and life come together as equals.