From: b0z0
Category: Exhibitions
Date: 23 April 2004
Bring a personal stereo and start dancing at the appointed time. And don’t look at anybody else. The instructions are for scripted spontaneity, the way that some people ‘go mad’ in a regular night-out situation. This was raw. There was no night, no unison (except in self-awareness). No way to defuse ones silent twitching with a laugh/joke/anecdote/drink. It was like re-visiting the trauma of a school disco. Outsiders looking on as you take your first brave steps ONTO THE DANCEFLOOR! My expectations and the desire to be a viewer threw me between a crowd of Gillian Wearings and the blurred reality of a thousand-yard stare. It’s not so easy to get lost in the sound on a station concourse as it is in a defined space, abusing your substance of choice. Commuters smiled. It was impossible to tell if anyone joined in – except the sprightly middle-aged woman who clearly had no headphones. The spontaneity was affected by the presence of a girl sticking a medium-format camera in peoples faces. We clubbed on. Being part of the art was not what I expected, which I’m pleased about. I mis-cued my tape, danced sporadically and fought the temptation to herd beneath the timetable. It was an awkward, slippery affair that made me think about give and take ;) and the mechanical factors of a good night out. And watching pop videos with sound off. www.apologys.co.uk
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