An ongoing project based on Croydon, the most watched place in the UK with the most amount of carparks in one place.
Sound pieces created for this project and recorded at the car parks pictured:
https://soundcloud.com/user-578460223/nutsack-and-crease
https://soundcloud.com/user-578460223/danky-smelly-south
Nutsack and crease
Beef
Beef stew
Beef patti
Beef pastrami sandwich
That ham sandwich you got between your legs
Beef chops
That Bullsack smell
Sticky smelly sweet
Pestulant Pestulant pussy
Nutsack and crack
Right up your back
And you crease
No beef here
I ain't your mate
Don't hate
Just relate
Spasms
Casms
Sadms
Chaffing
Mating
Hating
Relating
We. Just. Conversating
You get me
Tea spoiled
Teeth nawed
Penile
Perfect
B side
Small. Child
Senile
Strange men
Strange place
Funny taste
The bitter cud
Young thug
Be kind
Mastermind
Find your spine
Bruk off your back
Make it snap
Gurl don't smoke crack
Wild nights
Wild kites
I always wanted to grow away from here
But it always brings you back
Somehow
Plough that pussy
Plough men
Big Benja men
You'll see hen
Warm nights
Cold hands
Cold Hearts
Love lost
Street cost
Sharp spike
Real. Incline
Don't got the funds
My. G
Gangsta
Girlfriend
Galdem
Hot soup
Hot honey
No money
England's
Wastelands
Reinvent
Recede
Impeded
Stampeede
Gal you got speed
Nameless
Shameless
Lost
Shameful
Sons yout
Warm eyes
Warm hearts
Warm men
Benz
Helping hand
Your grand
Lifes a bitch
Each your peach
Fuck you
Fuck them
Fuck us
Summer
Screwballz
Cctv
Surveillance state
Were alright mate
White eyes
White skin
Fuck. Nationalism
Hate harbours hate
Do you even relate
Don't b a snake
Goodnight pork pie
Pork hat
Pork scratchings
In that pub that's falling down
Held up by mainly white old men
2 many men
2 many 2 many men
I'm done
Got. To run
Got. The runs
Verbally
Herbalist
Journalist
Serve ya sis
Batty crease
Nutsacks
Hope this made you
At least crease
Broken lives
Broken minds
Broken men
Broken women
All actually really whole
Thanks very much
All it needs is a light touch
TEARS- yummy danky smelly south
its the act of putting yourself down
you’ve put yourself in all the situations
in which you can learn
you’ve given yourself
the foundation
in which you needed to fly
but still things don’t feel right
but its those who have taken up space in ur life self obsessed
looking past your own obsessions
which made you feel it wasn’t a real thing
tried to tear down that foundation
they had their dream
they were sure to soar
but by asking you to feed theirs
it in a way ripped out your own
its those moments where you try to put it into words
but can’t really explain it to people
what it is you really want to do here
as you don’t really have the words to explain everything you’ve imagined
its a visual breathing ball of flames
and you want to soar high with that heat
its that look you get when you try to tell people who you grew up with
the people were you came from
your people
and they look at you blankly
its the blank stare
that they cannot place your imagined reality
to their real reality
a lack of connection to reality
your nervous now
you were taking leaps before
but now your nervous to even take one step
it feels like the first step all over again
even your family
think your a dreamer
a loser of sorts
a user
who knows what
but your still holding onto your dream
a dream
like an air balloon thats going to take you away from this space
but then you realise that the balloon first grew in this space
gathered all the air it needed in this space
and however much you try to fly away from it
you’ll be brought back
I’m not different from anyone else here
I’m the same
i don’t know why i feel i can do this
have to do this
its just my obsession
and its always risen from my home
i do this for my home
and my people who can’t do it
don’t want to do it
i’ll do it for us
i don’t know why i think i can do it
i just have the feeling i must
okay
My Description of the work:
We are not one homogenous body, but sometimes it feels like someone's trying to mold us together like plasticine.
The thinker Henri Lefebvre at a certain stage of his career became a taxi driver stating: I plumbed the smelly depths of existence.
Your body as an owned commodity, a question of the liberated female voice, or an incessant highly sexualised one.
Class inferred through imagery of spaces, and who we place here, looking from within.
Words, images and sound try to wrap around a place, break structures down. But can you ever really contain a living breathing space?
Instead I just leave little pellets of information here to mull on.
Living in satellite towns on the edge of London, cheesy chips, drunk nights with your mates, overpasses, underpasses, car parks, cctv, concrete are all things I see everyday as well as suburbia.
Are you a suburban superstar?
What it is to feel inadequate when none of your friends will travel to the end of London to see you?
The divides that strip us of humanity. Can we locate our humanity?
What the body endures, what do we as a collective endure and co-create?
What is this shared reality?
I feel most people want to know the shortcut
but i want to know the longcut.
