Noëmi Lakmaier – One Morning in May

On 28 May Artsadmin bursary recipient Noëmi lakmaier makes her way from Toynbee Studios towards the City of London and one of London’s most iconic buildings, ‘The Gherkin’. Noëmi’s 1 mile journey – usually a 20 minute stroll – will be a slow and exhausting test of endurance, likely to take hours, as she will do it on her hands and knees.

Smartly dressed in business attire, she will crawl through the everyday life of London and you can follow her journey on the street, using an interactive map and by following #crawl on twitter.

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William Mackrell

I went to look around the Oriel Davis Open 2012 in Newtown, Wales today. I came across a video work by the artist William Mackrell titled Deux Chevaux, 2011 as it contained a horse (two in fact) I felt I should probably stay and watch it for a little longer. As I viewed the work in the darkened room, another audience member entered the space, he looked at the work, then at me and subsequently asked in his strong Welsh accent, “So, what’s he pulling a car for?” I instantly wanted to reply “Because the car is broken” but thought better of it given my extensive education and experience in the arts and instead answered “I really don’t know.”

http://www.williammackrell.com/biography/

Hilary Jack

They shoot Horses Don’t They? *
Hilary Jack works across media in research based projects which often involve the collection, and rejuvenation of broken and discarded material collected from city streets, charity shops and ebay. The everyday objects she is drawn to collect and repair are imbued with the absence of their former users, thereby registering a strong sense of loss and abandonment.
Teetering on the brink of oblivion her chosen objects become the subject of an absurd act of reparation which intentionally deprives the object of its original function, ultimately rendering it even more lost, melancholic and uncanny while bringing into sharp focus the intrinsic value and meaning of the object.
This new body of work, an ongoing installation of broken figurines of horses and other domestic objects, entitled They Shoot Horses Dont They? is imbued with abandonment and melancholia, the title acting as a metaphor for a life terminated before its natural end. This body of work acts as a memorial to the estimated thousands of healthy horses used in the racing industry that are euthanized after injury rather than re habilitated.
“Hilary Jack most pointedly gives life and love to lost and abandoned objects, restoring them and most interestingly often returning them to where they became lost.  A quiet sadness, dignified by compassion exists here and the possibility of failure after repair, tolerated.  Broken Figurines repaired, shoes found at a bus stop mended (when its cheaper to buy new ones) polished and embossed with golden letters, trousers cleaned and pressed when they had been discarded in disgust in the road, a tennis racket repaired with macramé.  The thought, the space occupied and vacated here is sophisticated and impressive, the more so for allowing successful reading in another cultural context, that of contemporary art in a public realm.”
Esther Windsor extract from “The Social Lives of Objects”
*The title “They Shoot Horses, Dont They?” is borrowed from the 1950’s book by Horace McCoy, which was later made into a cult 60’s film. The tale follows a jobless couple in the Depression, drawn by prize money to enter the craze for gruelling Dance Marathons which sometimes lasted for months and ended with the collapse from exhaustion and sometimes death of participants. The tale follows a jobless couple, Robert haunted by the shooting of his injured horse, and Gloria plagued by thoughts of suicide. The dance marathon they enter lasts five weeks and is finally is stopped by moral objectors and Robert and Gloria go outside for the first time in five weeks having received only 50 dollars for their efforts. Gloria asks Robert to kill her and he takes out a pistol and shoots her. When asked in court why he did it, Robert replies “They Shoot Horses Dont They?“ The 1959 film by Sydney Pollack starred Jane Fonda, Michael Sarazzin and Suzannah York. The film received several Academy Awards.

 

Horse Woman – Poem /Text (unfinished)

I have been walking for a very long time.

Hoping to call something mine,

I could not climb high enough to be able to reach you.

 

Looking out at the view,

I followed the old roads made by the mines,

I have been walking for a very long time.

 

Hoping for a sign,

In search of something true,

I could not climb high enough to be able to reach you.

 

Noticing someone new,

Following each line,

I have been walking for a very long time.

 

All I could do is pine,

Looking for my muse,

I could not climb high enough to be able to reach you.

 

Praying at the pew,

Constantly in whine,

I have been walking for a very long time.

 

I could not climb high enough to be able to reach you.

 

I have walked coast to coast along the Mineral Trails of Cornwall,

Round in a circle at South Elmham,

And through the valleys of Snowdonia,

I have been searching for years and years,

I have nearly found my fortune a few times,

Then,

Finally,

Off the trail in-between the Mineral and the Valley I saw you,

It was May,

Evening,

The sun still shone,

Reflected from my boots and off your Stubbs muzzle,

I reached over and my hand slipped through the strap so that I could guide you along,

I burnt my hand encouraging you over,

But we did it,

I had you,

And you me.

 

I asked you nicely to lower your back.

Looking at your top,

I asked you kindly if I could climb up.

 

I attempted to hop,

But all I managed was to whack,

I asked you nicely to lower your back.

 

I quickly realised I knew Jack,

That I was no Jock,

I asked you kindly if I could climb up.

 

All I needed to do was hop,

But all I had was his rack,

I asked you nicely to lower your back.

I asked you kindly if I could climb up.

 

 

On top I feel your might.

I’m clinging to your white,

I guide you down the paths.

 

I look at the stars,

I see your fight,

On top I feel your might.

 

This night is ours,

Something is holding down the bars,

I guide you down the paths.

 

Your skin contains wars,

I am demoted by your height,

On top I feel your might.

 

In the far distance are cars,

Here is a horse ridden by his knight,

I guide you down the paths.

 

I notice scars,

Despite the dark night,

On top I feel your might,

I guide you down the paths.

 

 

At the end we see the gate,

All I can do is initiate,

This is home now,

You’ll enjoy it here.

 

Stay still,

Hand me your muzzle strap,

I’ll guide you,

Inside my path.

 

The garden,

It’s not big but as but has a pleasant view.

There’s a field not too far,

We’ll visit,

If you’re good.

If you’re good.

 

This is how it will work,

By following you’ll get some perks,

If you follow.

 

It’s all in your hands,

It’s all a matter of discipline,

My head full of routine.

 

The gate,

To be closed at all times,

I attached a lock, no room for tries.

 

It may seem strict,

It may be starched,

I’ll make it work,

No depart.

 

It will be best in the back,

Too beautiful for glaring eyes,

Too much.

 

I stay inside,

Please abide,

I’ll pay kindly.

 

 

And so we slept,

Eight, nine full of recline.

Rested fully,

On the             garments,

In order of course,

To the mirror,

To the door.

 

 

Stood tall, waiting for instruction.

Ready for the taking,

The daylight highlights your unique markings.

 

Not a work of fiction,

Working only with feelings,

Stood tall, waiting for instruction.

 

Approach is presented with tension,

It’s all in the learning,

The daylight highlights your unique markings.

 

Slight hesitation,

Who knows your previous dealings?

Stood tall, waiting for instruction.

 

To pose the question,

To which you and I are facing,

The daylight highlights your unique markings.

 

Which is the direction?

Are you leading?

Stood tall, waiting for instruction.

The daylight highlights your unique markings.

 

 

I climb to grasp your neck.

Lighting the wick,

Letting the reins out a little, kick with the heals and a click, click, click.

 

Aim for the trek,

Ready for the pick,

I climb to grasp your neck.

 

Admiring the flecks,

Hoping to go quick,

Letting the reins out a little, kick with the heals and a click, click, click.

 

Not to be confused with a pet,

Yet flicking the tick,

I climb to grasp your neck.

 

Ready and set,

Boiling and sick,

Letting the reins out a little, kick with the heals and a click, click, click.

 

What the heck!

To be named Dick,

I climb to grasp your neck,

Letting out the reins a little, kick with the heals and a click, click, click.