NEWSFLASH!
This will be performed as a site specific promanade piece as part of Minster Nights in York Minster on January 2nd 2010

This project began with the technique known as a 'derive' where I allowed myself to walk aroud the city of York without deciding in advance where I was going. I photographed features and places along the way which I found to be of interest and that I felt were important. I also listened to excepts of peoples conversations as they walked past me and noted them down. I then chose a selection of the photographs and and pieces of the conversations and scripted a performance in the style of a story, based around my journey . Below are just a few of the photographs that I took that inspired the script.

The Script

Welcome one and all, to a tale of mystery, adventure, un-solved crimes, and…squirrels. 

It was a cold December morning and as I walked along the icy path, voices filled my head ‘have ya got ya handbag’ ‘it’s free delivery you know’.  Choosing to ignore these strange and unfamiliar sounds, I headed across a park-land and found myself stood at the foot of a lamp-post, eerily silent in its appearance (picture)

Could this be Narnia, had I actually stumbled upon this world of fantasy that many have tried to find in the back of their wardrobes.  I took this as a sign and decided to use this as my starting point.  I headed North in search of forbidden lands.  A graveyard came into sight.  I walked to the railings.  It was encased all around, protected by this metal, but it granted me a moment of it’s time to watch, watch and listen (picture)

‘dong, dong’.  Bells sounded in the distance and I knew it was time to move on.  Turning, I was met with a sight that made me uneasy. A cricket pitch lay empty, no players, no umpires, just the well-mown grass and the small wooden hut, intent on keeping its secrets inside. (picture) How very out of place I thought.  What could this mean?  I was surrounded by ruins, a graveyard, a cricket pitch and at that moment, riding on the cool fresh air came a woman’s voice, light in tone ‘the only place he can hide it is under his bed’.  My eyes searched hurriedly for the bed but it was no-where to be seen.  Perhaps it was there, perhaps it wasn’t, maybe this was something else that was to be kept from me.

A blue door.  A few metres from me was an old blue wooden door, rotted on one corner.  What was behind it? Why was it placed here in the middle of a wall, a wall clearly of significant age.  I walked towards it and it was at that moment that I felt it for the first, I felt a pair of eyes burrowing deep into my skin.  Watching, waiting, thinking.  (picture)

It had become unsafe.  I headed back to the lamppost for some reassurance.  There it stood, motionless as before.  A young couple walked past me ‘are you hot? Not I’m fucking freezing’…it seemed they too had noticed the cold.

Something moved, something in the bushes.  My instincts begged me to follow, I ran, quickly and then not so quickly, I wasn’t as fit as I thought.  I turned the corner and was confronted by a path.  I followed it eagerly, through the mud, cursing that I hadn’t put my ‘sensible’ shoes on.  But wait, what was this?  The path had disappeared. No sooner had it begun then it had vanished.  Why have a path leading to no-where?  Or was it actually somewhere, somewhere I wasn’t allowed to trespass (picture) ‘can I have my gloves on please’. Good idea.  I took mine out of my pocket and gave my hands some relief from the biting wind.

Eyes, there they were again, those eyes, staring down at me this time, joking playing with their superiority.  I stared back, met their gaze.  What was it that was taking such an interest in me?  It moved.  So did I, but in the opposite dirtection.  I carried on, my footsteps quickening.  I passed through an opening with a lock waiting to capture people and keep them trapped in its layer for as long as it wished (picture) until I found myself in a crowd of individuals.

The smell of sausages wafted under my nose.  ‘well I out some pans on the bird table’.  Birds, was that the answer, was it the birds that had been watching me? ‘you know you wouldn’t have thought that’ …too right, but why would birds be taking such an interest in me? ‘at the traffic lights I had a momentary lapse’ me too! Maybe I should stop and talk with this gentleman, talk about the number of occasions we have both had memory lapses at traffic lights, but no, he was on the phone and clearly deep in conversation.

‘come over here and have a look at the market’  was that an invitation for me to join them?  A sign that I must become part of their journey for a short while?  If it wasn’t, the sign of my tummy rumbling certainly was, and the market place seemed a good a place as any to go.

I arrived to be greeted by row upon row of stalls, all brightly lit, selling everything you could possibly have imagined.  (picture) I started to relax and realised for the first time that morning how tense I had become.  But this new found state did not last as I felt horror surge through my body.  No, it couldn’t be, it just couldn’t be.  Anything but that.  But it was, oh mercy, mercy.  My ears began to cry out with pain as Cliff Richards music filled the air.

I had to leave, I had to get away, but where?  I had no sense of where I was going.  I over-heard a young couple ‘don’t you dare start that’ and I decided to follow closely in pursuit.  Weaving in and out of the crowds we passed building after building until the noise of the crowd was merely a forgotten murmur. 

But where was I?  Across the road I noticed for the first time new buildings, new tall buildings (picture).  This was out of keeping with what I had begun to learn about this city.  Could it be that there was more to this land than ancient ruins.  Could there be a new history that was laying undiscovered, quietly going about its daily routine, hoping that one day, someone would notice. ‘really friendly’ ‘oh I like that one’ ‘what did I tell you I was doing’.  It seemed the street around me was becoming busier.  Maybe these buildings weren’t undiscovered at all, but only showed themselves to a chosen few who took the time out to look.

I glanced down at my watch.  It had been almost 2 hours since I set off.  I decided to head back to the lamppost and complete my journey.  I bustled my way back through the market, was relieved Mistletoe and Wine had become ‘Rock and Roll Christmas’ and realised I actually didn’t like the smell of foreign cooked sausages. 

‘big issue, big issue’.  I wanted to stop, but having such intimacy as buying a magazine would have put an end to my journey too soon.  But I stopped all the same, though careful not to make eye-contact with the seller.  I looked down at the ground and to my amazement, I saw a door, laying hidden underneath the path.  I could see through the grates that this was infact quite a modern door.  So why then was it hidden underneath the street, with no access to it from the outside.  It was clear this was something else I was not suppose to know (picture)

‘saying that, she went to the salon’. How personal all these conversations were.  How well people knew one another.  On the surface they were a mixture of individuals, underneath they were actually a mixture of interwoven relationships.

I was almost there, the lamppost came into sight, but out of nowhere it came again.  That burrowing, that pair of eyes that had watched me earlier that morning had continued to wait. Wait for my return.  I decided this was no co-incidence.  Whatever it was wanted to make contact with me and I would have to fullfill this part of the story, whether I wanted to or not.

I was drawn away from the lamppost down another path.  This place was like a maze.  I stopped.  It was my turn to wait.  But I didn’t have to wait for long.  From behind a tree came a curious creature. It approached slowly.  Its eyes fixed on my hand. I looked down and realised it wasn’t my hand it was looking at at all, but the camera I was holding.  Could this little creature have simply been wanting to catch my attention in the hope of being captured on film and becoming part of my journey for ever?  I obliged and took the little fellas photos and before long he merrily ran off, no doubt attempting to find some other person to make himself known to.

I knew then that my journey was over, but I stood for a moment thinking through all that had happened that morning.  I had been privileged to enter an unknown world.  To become part of peoples lives for a short but lasting moment.  My thoughts then returned to the squirrel.  For whilst I had had to take the time out to create and become part of this journey, he took it for granted as part of his every day life. (Picture)