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Enclave 4: news of the world | Sophia Marinkov Jones / Ed Arthur Fox

Sep 26, 2014

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Yes

That night in September, when everything had been said, and there was nothing doing anymore but wait for the dawn, the counting. Hope and fear heightened in this process of becoming. The future might be different. No, the future could only be different. There would be no “status quo” and no going back.
The hours of passage, when the sediments of disappointment are not allowed to settle. Not yet.

No

Or that year, when the waters were rising, slowly, silently, relentless on the plains -would it ever stop? – and time in suspension waiting for their recede. Car and trucks going nowhere, lumps of isolation as the land dissolves. A new space of water and sky forms, a blank space; recalls diluvian myths.

Yes

A hill, promontory, a high point of land and a promise of placemaking. New homes, shops, offices, leisure facilities to accommodate growth. The old scheme has done its time; the economy has changed; a community dispersed and instead a community to-be waiting to move in. The mass production of space. But right now, the rubble, the ruins and a temporary natural landscape. A pause between destruction and reconstruction.

No

Debris, steel boxes, steel frames, oak frames, lowliness and sacredness, multicoloured nettings, bomber jackets, pigeon spikes, Perspex and airline blankets, jumpers and stickers, everything equal, the components un-struture in a limbo without status. A systemic confusion discrediting the world of reality, the elements escape hierarchy and cognitive classification. They are rendered evocative devices, emblems collected into an unorganised whole.

No

The moment after the decision is made, move effected, and before the outcome has yet to impact, that threshold holds its own potential. The split second before you hit cold water. It’s a temporal interstice, a space for a breath

Yes

re-aggregation

No

A comma unweighted by resolution

Perhaps.

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