ArtinSpace: 2009

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Better tonight; I'm going to slow dance with my man, in case he falls off a cliff tomorrow.

Dyson House in South Carolina was the home of Tom and Joseph, a young couple who grew up together in a gossamer cloud full of grazing unicorns. They lived happily together; Joseph worked the land and Tom wrote about, mapped and led, walking tours in America and Europe. Tom wrote home every day when he was traveling but Joseph felt, if he isn’t here, he doesn’t exist.

One night, Tom wrote home that he would be leading a group across a difficult traverse in the Appalachian wilderness the following morning, that the rusty hills reminded him of Joseph's ruddy cheeks, the swaying trees of his wild hair after a days work, and the forest floor was comfortable as laying his head on Joseph's belly. Tom fell off a cliff the following day. Joseph's story continues on, including, scandalously, an affair with an Italian count, though that is for another time.

Richard and Martin moving south from New York City in 1973, discovered and restored Dyson House in honour of Tom and Joseph's relationship. They built a museum and house for themselves on the land, both of which, sadly burnt down in 1975. Richard and Martin perished in the inferno. The storyboards, images and objects seen here today are the final remains of their amateur museum. Supposition has it that Martin was in talks with MGM studios to make a film of the lives of Tom and Joseph.

Though Martin has been pronounced dead by the coroner (and nor has he been sighted since 1975), his remains were not, mysteriously, found in the ashes of Dyson House.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Two Ladies

Shirley and Diana go to Manhattan.

Shirley and Diana had decided to take a holiday to Manhattan. Shirley had to call her employers and ask for the week off. She cleaned house for a young family who lived nearby and who both worked. She terrorised their children by insisting (in a hiss sometimes) that they must clean alongside her. Diana just disappeared from her job. She was a drinker and constantly out of work, shifting from waitress jobs to factory work to cleaning to the government handout. She would ask Shirley when they got back if she could sleep at hers while she got back on her feet.

They arrived in the city late in December, the snow was falling and it was so cold that they were happy. Shirley bought two tickets for the ice skating rink out front of the Rockefeller centre. Diana couldn’t remember the last time she had so much fun. Normally it’s me top that’s saturated on a Saturday night, she screamed. If Shirley had been home she would have been embarrassed, but in a new city, it seemed lascivious, and that wasn’t all bad.

Diana was a tall blond. Actually Diana was a mid height brunette but through an irregular dye job and some stratospheric wedges, she was a tall blonde. She was glamorous and leggy and this made her regal. It allowed her, she felt, to get away with the occasional crass statement, just a little something to keep people guessing, she thought. Diana swore like a trooper and everyone knew exactly who she had slept with in the past year.

Shirley came from the mid west and was clearly of Norwegian stock, with her tilting accent and deep blue eyes. Head cocked, dressed in straining jeans and a blouse, she was becoming hippy. Nobody questioned the silence surrounding her love life, which was non-existent. She wore new white trainers for this excursion to New York. It was only around children that she started to take on character. And now, in this city, she was finding an unexpected strength also. Without an audience of locals she was relishing Diana’s brash take on life. They were sharing a room at a hotel, mid town. Shirley was going to make a pass at Diana…