On the Map

Somewhere on the map - we may locate ourselves. By the patterns of our comings and goings we are written into, on to, the geography of which we are part. Whether or not we consciously make ourselves aware of our own part and presence, we are on the map. Others may map us without our knowing, just as we map those who are not the 'I' that we take our viewpoint from - often without their knowledge. In searching the map we may hope to find those who are, seemingly, lost to us. In searching the map we may hope to find ourselves. Neither eventuality is certain but we are always at the point on the map at which we stand. Our location is determinable; we may always be found. A map is a tangible testimony to both faith and trust. We place our faith in the skills and knowledge of those who have mapped the territory before us and we trust in our own ability to follow the map. In this way we may find our route.

Found Objects

Found, not lost; discarded. Traces, remnants, fragments - collected, logged and placed with due care. Caring for those things to which no duty of care applies - not necessarily forgotten, but no longer required. Each object with its own history, its own threads of attachment, its own story to tell. Embodied presence signifying absence - a loss, a rupture in the relationship of things; a material memory; a memorial.

A Slight Return

Of course, when other blogs begin to take over the mantle of 'we've got the most posts', its time to make a response. The holiday is over and the gloves are off; major re-profiling of the staff team has taken place here at the Institute and some of the dead wood has been pruned away - that cunt Humble has gone for a start - what a twat. Check back soon for the 'new look' Institute - less funding, greater efficiency - you know it makes sense. (And no more shite about owls and cheese.)