The cellar floods when the pump stops, it is a green pump from the age of steam; it ticks. When the cellar is dry it attracts mice.
On the landing beneath an opulent carpet is a dark wood parquet floor, underneath which the footprint of a cat is printed in white paint. The carpet was an annihilating gesture – a removal of memory – so that the footprint in the corner would be forgotten.
The direction of the house is such that birds are constantly flying into the kitchen window. The event has a very certain sound, the familiar thud and a swallow’s broken neck, usually at teatime: a summer-sound.
There is a photograph of Sir Percival hidden in the sofa; a painting that can talk to the moon; a broken glass oval; a red balloon; hair pulled from a brush and discarded.
The front is adorned with carved faces, some are malevolent whilst others just comically grotesque; props for young knights in practice. The house filled with ghosts, though only once we were gone.
(Gemma’s response to Claire’s house-shaped psychogeography)
March 3, 2009 at 1:30 pm |
Thanks for getting the ball rolling Gemma. Maybe the rest of us will be on the case soon!
Should we add our names to posts? Otherwise it might get confusing.
Also, I wonder if it’s worth posting Claire’s original text – or some aspect it if not the whole – so we can look at the process?
And does anyone have a good header image? (760×200 pixels)