Nigel Hall's film Here and Now was the back drop for this day of poetry and haikus. His sculpture, Littoral 1, hanging at the top of the Lookout Tower on Aldeburgh Beach, had been the stimulus for poets to climb the stairs and, in the solitude of the moment, compose a 17 syllable haiku. The haikus were screened in Venice opposite Nigel’s film and the poets and others read them aloud to the beat of the lapping water from the canal.
Click here for Caroline Wiseman’s brief to the poets and the resulting 70 or so haikus.
Caroline Gay Way
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 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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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
We want to name Hold back
The instinct to fall to crash
to ricochet along the strand
is mystery Its force—
your body ever only
components The sea salt water
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.
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
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.
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