Three posts down the end of the road, and their multipliers.

posts-1

 

“They stand there. And the shadows all point the same way. That’s something I’ve noticed. The shadows all point the same way, and they stand there. That is all. How I ever got mixed up in this darned business is far beyond me; whether it was all the fates all weighing heavily right here, down the end of the road, I don’t rightly know. All I know is that they stand there, and the shadows all point the same way.

I guess you must think I’m  a bit soft in the ‘ead, gettin’ all fixated on these darned concrete posts and everything. I mean, these three posts have got to be the most boring thing in the world, haven’t they? I mean, they’re so boring, they just disappear, don’t they? You kind of just block them out of your mind when you’re going down the shops, don’t you, maybe so you don’t have to see how utterly miserable these things are. You know they’re there, but you can’t see ’em. Funny.

Well, so long as I stand here, I make one of them. My shadow points the same way, doesn’t it? And, you know, your shadow points the same way too…”

Transcript of an interview with the old woman down the end of the street, from which nobody ever comes back.

CADE, 2013

 

The project “…drifting towards (x)” is an EIE – an Evolving Interactive Environment.

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“…drifting towards (x)”

The filthy carcass of London is still twitching spasmodically. It jerks about like something is still alive inside it, even though everything else has stopped. Everything else has stopped.

David Cameron PM

On the occasion of the passing of the Rubbish Act, 2013, only two Members of Parleyament voted on the bill – The Chancellor Mr Osborne, (who has been sleeping rough on the back benches with several other refugees,) and Mr Cameron himself, who has the only remaining firearm.

Severe rubbish drifts prevented any other Members of Parleyament from gaining access to the House, and therefore the only people to know of the new law’s existence are the people still trapped inside the Lower Chamber, like a pocket of methane expelled from a dead body.

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“My addiction to following pieces of litter around as they are blown to and fro in the wind often overtakes my walks these days, to the point where I usually cannot tell if I really am the author of my own movements, or whether I follow some long caravan of garbage on its meaningless journey from one dusty corner to the next. Today is no different.”

CADE, journal extract

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See things from the right angle

“My bed seems to have developed some kind of gravitational or electromagnetic field all of a sudden, because I just cannot get out of it. It only started yesterday I think, but it feels I’ve been stranded here for aeons…a bit like those statues on Easter Island. I’ve tried climbing out, fold by fold, but my desperate struggles just seem to erode the chance of ever being set free…”

Dolly, victim of Evelina Mansions Housing Association SE5

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“Shuffling myself into a spit-ridden corner where I might keep out of the vicious flows and undercurrents passing through the street, I decide to put the toilet under observation.”

[more]

CADE, journal entry

Dealing with the city as corpus, CADE explicitly approaches the breakdown of the normal functioning of the metropolis through the digestive tract, examining much as a doctor would the waste products of this body for signs of illness or disturbance.

In CADE’s notes, he explicitly makes the following assertion:

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“The health of the whole state can be ascertained by its attitude towards
rubbish

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Chief Curator Prof. Bettany Unction

“In conversation with CADE”

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