Hi all, my partner, Zahra and I responded to the poem “The Earth Shakes” by Steve Stanfield. This post will include the poem we responded to, the film I made in response to the poem and and poem I made in response to Zahra’s film.
[The earth shakes]
BY STEVE SANFIELD
The earth shakes
to remind us.
link to youtube below. The video is called “to remind us to notice”
Poem Response to Zahra’s film
I have included an image and a text version, just in case the image is too difficult to read. Blackout poem using the first two pages of Song for the Blue Ocean by Carl Safina. Titled: a relationship with the ocean.
slowly circling the
void upon the waters.
The eternal sea.
seemed to meld
into blue night,
the sun a moist watercolour
freshly created and laden with
breathing gently on my lover’s chest
the atmosphere a curtain around
my eye was a faint molten sea,
the surface like a suspended moment
backlit from another world.
The tear it left was
emerald and wild
a watery jungle
we examine the surface
while the ocean may look
This poem is in response to Meghan’s video (attached) based on the poem “The Earth Shakes”
entirely too placid—i’d spend hours trying to catch your gaze. call me asinine, call me puerile, hell, call me down right foolish. i’ve spent days floating, mind wandering. all i can do is day dream.
picture this; it’s summer and we’re at the beach. the sand grains make a home between our toes and the salted air belts through our hair, twisting and turning—-and god, is that fucking yearning, too? the sweetness of the sea kisses us when we enter it. how does it feel? never mind, the answer is written on your face.
what do you think of when you hear the word ‘peaceful?’
my mum always answers with the same thing; the sound of birds chirping in the early morning. my dad says a thunderstorm on a particularly miserable day.
you told me it was the cabin your family owns; tucked away in a tiny corner of the woods. the lights don’t work and it’s always splintered with a chill in the air. you told me it’s the one place you don’t feel lonely, and i think i understand that feeling.
me, though? i think of you.
you are the tranquil waters on a small lake—the first drops of rain from the overcast sky.
i’ve never known the embodiment of serene before. i’ve known angry words and fist fights, bloodied noses and bruises.
i’ve known silence—and it was deafening.
it’s not with you.
Hey! So I worked with Jenna on brief 4, and her post can be found here (https://www.mediafactory.org.au/2019-material-choreographies-studio/2019/10/04/brief-4-jenna-duffy-with-alannah-burr-archaic-fragment/ ). In this post I will include my video response to the poem The Earth Shakes by Steve Sanfield, and my prose response to Jenna’s video.
My Video Response – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gG2Jlm3-0Dw
My written response to Jenna’s video
Watch the clock.
Can’t be late.
You know what happens when you’re late.
Rushing about your life, swerving people on the streets, the cacophony noise of the city surrounding you becoming white noise as you speed walk to your next meeting. Unable to tell a police siren from a baby’s wail. As long as they stay out of your way so you aren’t late.
The clock tocks faster.
Are you early? Are you late? Where’s a phone? Should you call him? And dare admit you lost track of time? What would he say?
Passing by the boutiques on your way home where time seems to stand still. Layouts of chaise lounges and tea tables, only for those who have time. Which you don’t. Why are you stopping?
The Grandfather clock in the corner always taunts you. Running exactly a minute behind. Thinking you have a minute to spare. A minute to breathe. There’s no time for breathing.
You can hear it. A tick in one ear. A tock in the other.
The click of heels being the only sound you can hear. They sound like a clock. You finally find a phone booth. You hear the ringing. You miss the tocking. Ringing means waiting and who has time for that. The ringing lasts so long you realise you’re seeing him tomorrow. You’re a day early. Which means you forgot tonight’s commitment.
The tick’s tock so fast. Since when was a second this short?
You run back from where you came, as fast as your legs will carry you. You’re way behind schedule, how could you let this happen? Clocks stare at you from all directions. You can hear the biggest one chiming now.
A relief to not hear a tock for once.
You know this place well, running around every-day past the same boutiques, through the same subway where the trains are never on time, in and out but you don’t have time to stress. Otherwise you’d slow down.
And you can’t be late. Not when someone is waiting. They say it’s too much on your shoulders. That all you’re running around will get you killed. But they don’t know.
The tick tock in your head won’t stay silent for a second.
You get off the train and speed off on your way. Passing people who stroll about their day. A drop of sweat drips down your forehead and into your eye. You stop outside the boutique and look inside.
Your reflection is screaming. A pocket watch tocks.
Over my face that wraps up my identity, my feelings
Obscuring the body I see, the body that I materialise
from sight, I feel constricted, the pressure in my head twofolding with the adhesion of more tape
How do I get a handle on this?
Where I once saw the reflection of myself, I now see a glamour of blue
No shape or silhouette.
Sometimes I barely see at all.
Will you please stop blinding me? Will I stop blinding me?
Fireflies (Nathan Fumberger)
Prompt: Blizzard (William Carlos Williams)
Response (Hayden Andipas)
The Furious static fills my head. It tells me to move, go forward,
writhe in silent anger and let the static be your lens.
And then, the light.
At first I saw a solitary glow, just out of reach it floats idly. With no
expectation or purpose the light grows. At first a silent whisper it
builds and grows, bigger, brighter more intense. The light multiplies
its green, blue single then numerous. How long has it been now? A
second or an eternity, it doesn’t matter.
It cuts the static penumbra and brings with it something new…
And then, as quickly as it began it is gone…
What does the world look like now after the light? I see nothing but
the path ahead of me, lit by the sun and carrying with it something,
Perhaps I was never meant to know where the path leads.
Green Matter (Greta Egan)
Prompt: Earth Shakes
Response (Nathan Fumberger)
The emergency was known to the trees.
Acolytes of an old god stood in judgement;
Silent, recording sins on every inch of themselves.
We were a threat to them – we twisted them,
cut, burnt, and bruised them.
Slept in their bones, as they watched us remain.
The climate was felt by the birds.
They were the messengers, the seekers, the remnants
of an old desire to touch the sun, now to fade behind it.
We wielded blades, loved, birthed and named as
we desired – war, blood, extinction.
Paradise, paved by burnt feathers.
The action was begun by the clouds.
Change in the air, the breath of the world
arresting, exhaling, holding, choking.
We saw the gates close to us – our armies
starving and rusted.
Survival watched us stand on our wasteland.
The emergency gripped the world.
Once temples, now threats, the trees
hid the monsters that grew from their blood.
We picked the stones that rained
like fire from the sky and filled them
with coal dust and anger.
The extinction was upon us at last.
The bones, the stars, the land lays cold:
all screaming for our action.
We could not change, return their bones
or their feathers, nor our fear a heartbeat.
Our broken weapons promised our survival.