Vanishing Moments
Vanishing Moments was born out of two concerns: the housing issue for students in London and the perceived futility of disposable objects. As us students often have to move, we don’t have time to make memories in every accommodation. We decided to place some everyday objects in a box shaped like a nondescript student accommodation (they are all different yet all the same) and pour plaster over them as a way to freeze them in time. We then used light to show our wanderings around London and pieces of creative writing on these topics.
The toll of the lapping waves of water and the striding calls of seagulls are not enough to silence the roar of planes soaring over the memory of ‘Glynis & Bidd gone but not to far’ and the vibration of the dated arch casting shadows on rowers and muddy pawprints sinking their trail into nature, with her leaves, twigs, cans, syringes stomped over by the goddamn joggers making us feel guiltier by the minute (it’s not our fault we don’t run, we like the aimless wandering). Is that a mountain or wrinkled skin? Oh no, it’s just the bark of a mouldy tree reflected, refracted by the streaming mirror leaving the buildings, a pool of peace. And then the planes again.
THAMES
Ten to ten. No time to break fast. A flow of urine smell dominating the air while running to Greyhound Road. Two-twenty to Willesden Junction carrying panicky pigeons fleeing mind-piercing screeches. Borderline credit, a sigh of relief broken by blundering balance. Long aperture of laundrettes and countless pharmacies along the broad way. The familiar pattern of tweeting on the top deck. Driven by designed bare needs to hop off in a crowd of stops. Sliding down into a cluster of bodies, taking part in the commodification of flesh. A daily labyrinth of touch and moans culminating in a climax of beeps. Thank you for shopping at Tesco.
HAMMERSMITH
