Tomorrow will be election day
Wednesday 4th June
Tomorrow will be election day. Lihi and I danced together in the street. Mainly in slow motion. We were dressed alike in dark (trouser) suits , black tops and trilby hats. I whitened my face with a dusting of powder, and painted on black eyebrows and and a small curling moustache. Our only prop was a small container of bubbles each.
Our first score was a slow movement follow-the-leader approach to the centre of Guidhall Square. Once there we sat on the ground, back -to back and blew bubbles in the air. Stopping this we moved slowly apart mirroring each other across the central area with about ten yards between us. Our movements became even slower, until we moved closer. At about five yards distance we again produced the bubbles and began a "conversation", each taking it in turn to blow. We then ran fast between the walls bounding the square, forming body shapes in bas relief at each point of contact.
Next, Lihi led me slowly by the hand to the perimeter of the square and deposited me on the bonnet of a transit van. I moved from here to the top of a litter bin. Gradually standing up from a squat I reached towards an adjacent lampost upon which hung an Socialist Environmental Alliance election poster. I leaned towards it and found myself staring directly into the brilliant blue eyes of EAmonn McCann, set in the grimmest face imaginable. The poster was of five SEA candidates, McCann in the middle. The unusual and untypical scowl which he had presented to the camera intimidated me into a crouching pose, hands raised in supplication, backside stretched to the rear. Lihi then aproached, hands riased in parallel supplication at my back-side! Now standinfg and moving forward I stepped with both feet on top of separate short, black iron pillars about three feet apart. I was like a stilt walker cemented into the paving stones, and maintained this position for about ten minutes, expecting the arrival of a friend whom I had seen in the distance - but unknown to me became diverted elsewhere.
Lihi walked back to the centre of Guildhall Square and lay down , curled to one side. I approached at a snail's pace, my movements imperceptible. This enabled me to improvise authentic arm movements in response to Lihi's still figure. I found myself with arms raised apart above my head, and felt like a hovering bird of prey. At this point Rea and Rob spontaneously joined in; Rea sitting crossed legs beside Lihi and Rob sitting near to me. The gazed with fixed attention upon us; supportive witnessses who also became part of the performance.
When Lihi and I met we performed slow motion contact improvisation, ending with Lihi sitting upon my tightly curled, kneeling figure. She produced bubbles and casually blew translucent streams into the air , like a siren calling sailors to their doom from the top of a rock. Rob and Rea obliged with an embrace for they departed.
We headed along Foyle Street. After examining the outside of a telephone box Lihi moved over to a nearby tree and stood straight facing it, arms around its trunk. I remained with one palm pressed against the door. The surface was sticky, probably the residue of a removed poster. I kept my hand there, recalling Sandra Johnston's tactile interests. I began to feel stuck to the surface. Looking up I noticed the leaves of a tree hanging down to a little way above my head. With my free hand I reached up to a leaf and held it lightly . As I held the leaf and spread it open with my thumb I was aware of the almost transparent pale greenness as the sun shone from above. I reached carefully across to another leaf and heard two separate voices , almost simultaneously, shouting in mock seriousness, "Hey, leave that tree alone!". Or was it "mock". There was an implication that I was perceived somehow as threatening damage. And there was I delicately inspecting with reverence the fineness and finess of nature's handiwork.
I reached further till I held a flexible , narrow branch which I pulled downwards, and gripped firmly. I now felt able to detach my other hand from its secure anchorage on the phone-box. Thus I was able to make a sluggish Tarzanesque (I tried Tarzanal but thought it too much like Black Bottom - which was a fast dance anyway ) swing across to Lihi's outstretched hand.
We shadowed each other from there to the fence and wall surrounding the library car-park, where we explored different levels and had "bubble conversations" at a distance. Our finale was at the long narrow , bushy-backedtraffic island facing the large windows of Sandino's Bar. After making a gradual approach towards each other, blowing streams of bubbles alternatively, we met and faced towards the bar windows. Now we gave simultaneous bubble speeches to the customers, before harmoniously walking off hand in hand , like Paisley and Trimble down the Garvaghy Road.
Although there was little thought put into our preparations I think the outcome was quite meaningful. Our slow movements contrasted strongly with the frantic fuss and bustle of all the electioneering campaigners. We were actively supporting each other (Vote for Her and Vote for Him) rather than putting each other down. The bubbles represented gentle , light and beautiful words of conversation; empty statements; and speech bubbles -( Other associations on a postcard please)
