It is time. Time to prepare for the future. There will be nowhere for you to sleep.

We experience bark in cycles, in our journey home from the ferry on the path in the dark.

We don’t want to want eyes.

*

Yesterday we came up with an extremely productive work strategy: the communal nap. Collaborators enter a heightened state of focussed concentration towards resolving narrative or structural inquiries in the performance piece. Dreams yield extremely viable solutions.

Especially when the soundtrack is this:

Today was another long work session but we channeled the Banff Centre and scheduled one full meal during a reasonable dinner hour. We are writing new text, new songs and prepping for our first meeting with our shadow puppeteer Sean Frey, tomorrow!

Sweet Island dreams under the supermoon . . .

kb, er, di, cj

Yesterday we went for a walk along Gibraltar Point beach and collected bits of glass that were tucked in the sand . . .

This afternoon while doing research for Osculations I learned a couple of frightening things – one is that excepting the plastic ‘eliminated’ from the planet through incineration, every piece of plastic ever created is still in existence (in some form) today. Plastic does not disappear. It is lost (and found) at sea, it is broken down into plankton size pieces that are consumed by fish and turtles and marine mammals but it is not digested, it is not transformed. Part of our piece is about the floating island of plastic in the Pacific the size of a CONTINENT that is known as the Garbage Patch. There is a naturally occurring gyre in the Pacific Ocean – a gyre is essentially a natural vortex, there are five major oceanic ones –

and this gyre has become a repository for disposed plastics, which are broken down by the ocean currents, salt, and sun into smaller and smaller pieces that can be found from the surface to 100 metres below sea level . . . scientists describe the ocean water in their study as a ‘plastic soup’ – and their study area within the Garbage Patch is the size of Texas – TWICE. This plastic makes it way back to land in some fairly gruesome ways, grounding albatross chicks indefinitely:

If you eat seafood (especially filter feeders), you’re eating plastic. Plastic returns to us: cosier, filtered through time and ocean. It won’t break down, but it will open us to the possibility of immortality. How fast lasting forever has changed the world . . .

In a very short period of time, we will be able to walk the shore and find the kernels of sand are composed not of coral or rocks but plastic . . . and it won’t be hard to stroll the length of the beach and collect buckets of our indestructible nostalgia.

As you were,

kb

PS. You can see more images of the effects of our desire for and disposal of plastics on Midway’s albatrosses documented by Chris Jordan here.

I am currently watching a lightning storm through the big bay windows of the old kindergarten classroom in the former Toronto Island school (now Artscape Gibraltar Point!), reflecting on how a very busy winter loops in a dream through to this spring . . . which finds me once again on the Eyeland, the very one that has inspired the latest project I am immersed in. Over a year ago while attending the inaugural Literary In(ter)ventions program at the Banff Centre I met Erin Robinsong, fellow poet with mad skillz for learning tech, interest in incorporating movement, gesture and sound in writing . . . so fast forward to this! midst! of creating an exploratory writing work called “Osculations on a Theory of Islands” . . .

We are so fortunate to have had the opportunity to spend time creating this piece at the Banff Centre in April. We revisited the sketches we created last summer on the Eyeland and have a draft of the piece which includes songs and soundwork, tarp dances and ghost stories.

&now we so fortunate to be watching the Toronto skyline light up electric on the first day of our second creation residency for Osculations at Artscape Gibraltar Point – we have clocked our cables . . .

and are going to edit the narrative in prep for meeting up with our other collaborators, David Ip and Sean Frey.

And the rain inspires us riders of storms . . .

A husk, a lung,

kb