I’m always looking for “clues”. The clues are images, pieces of text, video, sound, et cetera, that help illuminate the themes in my thesis (that has to be delivered, come hell or high water, this December (the paper)/January (the performance)).
I unpacked my last box of books today (yes, I am slow at unpacking) and came across an old book of poetry I had nearly forgotten I had: Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair, by Pablo Neruda. I must have purchased this book several years ago, certainly it hails from the time I lived in Toronto. Several pages had sticky notes on them, so I turned to one of the marked pages and immediately found a clue:
(from I Have Gone Marking)
Between the lips and the voice something goes dying.
Something with the wings of a bird, something of anguish and oblivion.
The way nets cannot hold water.
The voice and birds in the same short passage. It seems to be a very nice clue to keep at hand as I develop the themes of the voice and the Stenomask, and relate the practice of training the computer to other practices requiring high levels of devotion – in this case, falconry.
I also found another poem that describes (with eerie exactitude) how I feel about those dear to me in Canada whom I miss. The poem is called Here I Love You. I’ll leave it as a treat for you to find in your local library or bookshop.