Memories of an installation I once knew

January 14, 2013 § Leave a comment

Imagine now a house, run down, on its way to ruin. There are holes in the roof, and some walls have been torn open. Doorways are without doors, and many of the floorboards have rotted well away. The windows are frames only, glass shards, worn down now with rain and wind.

What is recognisable then is the frame of the house, tha basic shape, like a child’s drawing of house – three of four rooms, a hallway, living space out the back. The walls are fibro, not brick, there is some graffiti, the house is known to some. A base, a refuge.

The floors, where the boards are rot through, are alive. There is greenery, encouraged by water and light coming through the patchy roof, called in from out through holes and trails. Windows have vines growing through, daisy plants and thick stemmed weeds grows strong and tall in the middle of rooms and grasses, some short and soft – some tall and browning sweep the floor and crest the walls.

The garden is inside now, the house which once had all the potential of a home is beautiful again, years after the people have left. The green frames each room in possibility, cascades, living breathing, turing the air clean.

Imagine now, having found this house, wild at the edges, framed and tall – a suburban ghost – that someone has built a walkway through. Salvaged wood and nails, kept close for movement, the walkway cuts a path from room to room, over all the rot and holes you walk, through windows and doorways, viewing and pondering, a modern walk, in a space made beautiful in relentless time and courage of the terrain.

Along this built path, bridges into this rustic chamber, there have been placed candles. They light your way. Shadows are thrown, clusters of light filter through the grass, fade dark edges of rooms in a glow which is warm, in a glow that fills you fit to burst with love.

Now imagine you stand again on the outside, a person beside you. Take their hand and lead them through. This is what you must do.

Memory of an installation made by a university friend from Sydney College of the Arts, Ned Sevil, who sadly passed.

Advertisements

Tagged: , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

What’s this?

You are currently reading Memories of an installation I once knew at rushofsun.

meta