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Caroline Gay Way

Dancing Light

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Dancing Light — a Light Occurrence that is otherworldly and strange. It takes the viewer through the artist's raw response as it happened within the body of her sight-specific Amazing Maze artwork. The video continues through various phases of soundscape visual response. Morphing into a video fusion of Light Seeds and performance art - featuring 4 year old Venice Perincek Way who for a few moments, becomes the human embodiment of Dancing Light.

Haiku of Ancient Futures

A short selection of haiku readings from ‘Haiku in Venice’ created from half remembered fragments, garnered through time and place for the Venice Biennale 2019. Her art installation is now repoduced for performance of haiku interspersed with harmonic chimes.

A a poet, artist and writer Caroline loves playing with liminal ideas. She is drawn to the unusual and enjoys delving into little known subjects to sek out what is behind the obvious. She has been lucky enough, as an artist in residence, to work with Antony Gormley, Anish Kapoor, Cornelia Parker and Peter Randall-Page. Her ‘arresting’ video shorts combine her poetry and conceptual art.

Maria Isakova Bennett

Maria Isakova Bennett

Maria Isakova Bennett

Maria Isakova Bennett and Michael Brown wrote the poem Wave in response to Nigel Hall’s Littoral 1 for Poetry in Aldeburgh in November 2018. In Venice, Wave was read by Caroline Gay Way, Caroline Wiseman and Sara Hayes.

Wave

 (I)

I touch the glassy structure of the wave,

break its pulse with my petty hand                              

(I have to do this to know that I’m here)

to smack the grey weight of its cold skin

or sometimes that wild desire to step in

to its fickle material, the unshaped

ribbon of its dance.

(ii)

but it’s the symmetry I love

a fro      to      and sashay

set going with a brazen kiss

the edges flummoxed. We can’t enter

 the sea—— too much awe

sneak up on the tide

destroying herself on stones

(iii)

This architecture of the wave, its pitch,

elliptical spill to shore demarcates you

from your soul — from what you are drawn to know.

It wants all things vertical. It wants you

flat in its wake.  It wants the moon

in fact and pulls it down to earth.

(iv)

and on this night— two moons careen                                     

and retreat. Desire goes on. To take flight

and yet be still. We saw power once—

a static wave, the gale arresting doom

upright, fixed in time. We held

our breath. Nothing moved

hung on for calamity.

(v)

Movement but no movement

What we call this sea

is your skin, it lets

a force inhabit it, animate

the body, pass through

its dull substance              an energy

we want to name               some living thing

(vi)

We want to name              Hold back

The instinct to fall            to crash

to ricochet along the strand

is mystery                             Its force—

life                             Without—

your body                              ever only

components       The sea   salt water

(vii)

And if we hadn’t seen the sea

we have dreamed it —

each breath a wave

we can’t distinguish from the last.

It’s out there like the love

and the dark and ceaseless.

Hold me

(vii)

I must                    more than shall                 

for what we dream          dreamt once      

this movement                   slight

of a nestled boat                 water’s crease

and smooth                           Ride out the wait

Return                    to come again

                  again      again

(ix)

Each wave speaks. 

It can’t mean. It’s not of us.

Each discrete wave behaves like it’s the last

wave on earth.  Sometimes we can’t find the words —

yet one exhaled breath, a process,

this small matter of life

and death. Again.  Again.

(x)

I touch this last wave on earth

live as though it is

lose myself in its pulse until

it is just  scroll and roll

twist and turn hush and warn

making us weathered

water-worn       always now

a fro and to of reflections on Nigel Hall’s, Littoral

                                    written by Maria Isakova Bennett and Michael Brown