An ode to the nightlife by Rafaela Pandolfini
St James Train Station window boxes
25th November - 5th December 2017
This is a portrait of my eye
The movement in the corner of the eye in the night
Our night, life
Hands up down and around under
Hands reach and push through
Eyes lock arms embrace
Sit in the gutter then fingers in
Fingers up and down hard then fast
Arms gesture towards
and gesture about
Hands up arms sway shoulders hips
Arms hands feet step
Arms move arms move arms move
Still hands fidget
Hands pour arms grab
The trail down
Drawings Rozsa Erica
Poster design Mitch Brown
Sound Jeanette Olivia Little >>Soundcloud<<
Texts Stella Rosa McDonald and Brian Fuata
Website Stephanie Overs and Chris Petro
It was Slessor
who said, all drowns in night.
from the bottom of the harbour,
with the now few lights,
we fail to dream.
where we once danced.
where we once ate.
We move by the whistle
and the bell.
remains a secret
by the synonyms of fear.
Now we make worlds
and phone calls
Now we don't dance,
except to say we're free.
Text by Brian Fuata
A. we broke up in London
B. the morning he left to return to Sydney on his own was the first time i had physically experienced any kind of serious loss. this is what happened:
C. i saw him to his ordered cab
F. turning back into my house I could see my limbs were still intact
G. moving me down the corridor, reentering my bed, across two damp pillows my eyes quiver closed, a second in silent prostration where I held breath...
H. until a centrifugal emotional force expels me out of my body
I. firstly as a cragged mouth making child-like mannish sobs
J. a perforation of hot breaths seethed and sucked through clenched teeth, the rest of my body taut like a suspension bridge on a bed...
K. to then explode with the lightning of my enraged limbs
L. my face is blood flushed...
N. more can I express this twilit score of disembodiment, necessitated by the void of my lover’s body now severed from mine and the contacted air around it?
Q. (without hurting myself or my physical environment) can I do to entertain; from the latin inter; among ~ tenere; to hold, this hurt?
R. on my back, all that I could do was a bathetic punching of the air counter-levered by the sprayed insects of my legs
S. oh man
T. a febrile double vision of what was actually in front of me and a mental x-ray through which a porosity of body lead passage to an overcast of auras
U. blurs boundaries
V. limbs held high in desolation
W. making me in and out; of bodied and disembodied; of emotion and reason; ofsense and sensation
X. i needed more expression !
Y. i remember wanting to be a source of light, as what I thought was the only capable medium to capture the immensity of these new feelings - from a single lit birthday candle to the grandeur of an aurora in the sky...
Z. instead all that my body produced, was the unexceptional dance of an upturnedcockroach
An Epilogue to a Lament:
what happens when a city leaves you?
this text came to me first through invitation, then dropbox...
opening to a lit sheet of 24 image squares
outside of which
an entertainment of white space
is an ode to the nightlife
push bar to open
a hand on the base of the back
arms down below
hands dancing holding drinks
a duet (folk)dance floor
is dancing a guard of honour; a joyous passage for good spirits