Layers

Language does not stand apart as a discreet category or function from the lived body in continual and unforetold application. In that sense, Use is the continually updated interface that joins us in our facing objects, surfaces and one another. Feeling is not a higher realm. It is a basic realm. But it does not stop at the blunt-ends of stubbing ones toe against a door. It goes all the way through, testing out and probing a kind of meshing and synchronicity that is as if the very fibres of matter -of self-and other- were sending on through tiny aspects of dispersive messaging, through what appears one and another. This is connectivity and it is immediate yet without any absolute demarcation in time and space. To say this means that our intentionality to make contact; to touch, to press down; to impact is only an initial placement; a kind of insertion into a far wider and more dispersive potential- a matrix of co-influences that ripples outwards and collects at certain points- as with an echo that gradually runs out and only then is known to be a discreet sound. So these delimitations are actually known not in a beginning but as an inevitable bleeding away from the concentrated placement. This is the reverb, the bounce, the journeying of a body of movement or of a body of sound and it is playing with intensity and how this changes of its own accord through duration- rather than with intentionality or semantic meaning.

We are concurrently running alongside or in tangent to so many co-dependencies that feel out these brief and waning positions in the process of moving together. We collect into concurrences but these never remain at stable and even momentums. The fact of their changing through duration; that the impact of a placement begins to bleed, disperse and travel down this shifting melee of make-shift affinities that in the next moment become less clinging; less merged, plays not with the contact but with the intervals of its unravelling; a re-definement within a rippling frame that is continually accommodating so that all aspects as they collect and discharge give glancing reference to this mobile frame. It is a pendulum that keeps ticking but the intervals double up over and over again to cascade in as one or float out into a spaciousness that is near silence. Between these two there are infinite intervals and they coil and uncoil around one another.

Drumming in a group is this shoring up of aspects into and through one another- and the dexterity of a central point of cohesion is not an actual line or mark; it is this weaving together and apart of disparity and cohesion. It is got at through a near falling out of any perceived line and in the small accidents of this tick-tocking undulation. A wave reaches up and  becomes a transcendence that is both imaginary and real; of the body and not of the body so that these distinctions begin to play like a koan on and off of one another and the simple factitcity of a felt involvement; a placement or insertion there amidst many becomes the basis for a felt sense of unity. Coordination happens on this shifting surface. This rises like a mist which is place-less but everywhere. And it puts into question the perceived difference of unique players scoring points with virtuosity. For as tiredness and ease start to come about through the repetitive rhythms that spiral around and through one another there is no start, no finish; simply this insertion so that a delay is built back up and through and in this very application it begins to fall away. Within then this very hesitancy grows the assuredness of moving as one single texture that like a coiled tyre- a mobius strip- runs from background to foreground without changing its feel but as a nuanced sensitivity to the field  in which it is placed. From this wall of sound-noise comes a silence and that is when sound and its absence run parallel and become a figment of the mind- a felt affinity.

A child who moves and stumbles on their own through a sea of furniture and on-known bodies.That child has a certain diagnosis attached to them that is there in the paperwork even before they manifest as real flesh and blood in that classroom with their likes and dislikes their repetitive actions and the breaking off of these actions. But these begin to shape into the flux and uncertainty of an environment that by its nature- like their own bodies- is unstable. Work with this instability and let it reach through in this touching grasp that even as it knows itself- as a teacher imparting knowledge or systems of routine and obedience on those children and as children seemingly perfecting their wobbly gait and delivering - like elixir- word sounds- and let all this unravel, dislocate and jumble as sudden pressing downs, jerks upwards, passing between children who may never seem at any exact point ot actually meet- and the rhythmic staccato; the felt impact that is waning and coming back through in the backwash of its own deliverance. Articulation will sound out in utterances like gasps and trapped breaths, sighs and smilings. There will be sounds such as the body crashing; the swimming through of this disaster before it is known as such into a jerkiness like a cross rhythm and the sing-songy melody of this fall and rise, this rise and fall. And out of all this- just where functionality seems to come undone and just where a sound  that should be this or that as a semantic category becomes neither and breaks free into pure soundedness that travels on its own waning shoreline, so the implicit intonation will begin to figure itself as if from itself out of the layers that come and go to become pure rhythm, pure melody in the stop-start hazardness of our mutually arising existence.