This time, the location is a cruise ship.
The ship is in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, exactly equidistant between Europe and America. The wind is calm and the sea is calm and the movement of the boat is imperceptible, both from up here and for the passengers down there. The sky is blue and the sea is blue. The ship is gleaming white. Everything looks just as it should do.
As we move in closer we begin to pick out more detail. We can see the ship's three pools: two rectangles and one circle of turquoise. Swimmers and sunbathers present as blurred pixels of orange, white and pink. Above them the ship's radar completes another circuit.
We zoom in closer still and the blurred colours begin to come into focus. We can see rows of sun loungers laid out across the decks. In the top-most pool a man completes laps, swimming backwards and forwards through the irregular criss-crossing of the less disciplined.
Our gaze comes to a rest above a distinguished looking couple occupying two of the loungers on the top deck. The woman is sitting on the edge of her lounger. The man reclines against the tilted back of his lounger. There is a small table positioned between the two of them. At this distance we can see they're involved in a conversation. We're too far away to hear what they're saying.
Our gaze hovers invisibly above them. We move in closer still. Now we're able to pick up fragments.
"...Moscow… and Chicago…"
"The screens…. did you think? Then Nixon would keep saying!"
" He said, 'You've got to admit we have the best colour television'!"
"Kruschev had him, had him four times…"
A child runs past shouting and laughing.
"… what did you think? When…"
"When I first saw them?"
"Vast. Too much so? "
"That was the way."
"But, I mean did it become too authoritarian?"
"We could have lost them I guess, but..."
The breeze lifts and moves the woman's hair. We can only hear fragments.
"A shared vision?"
"Our common humanity…"
"A surplus of image!"
"The expanse of experience…"
The breeze lifts and flicks the pages of the book on the table between them.
"And Boston too?"
"But listen… do you think… I mean, the applause?"
"Were they just relieved? You're saying."
"Ha! You mean they were glad it was over."
"No, no, I mean the relief… the relief of recognition"
We pan out and their voices soon drift away into inaudibility
This time, the location is a cruise ship.
The ship is in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, exactly equidistant between Europe and America. The wind is calm and the sea is calm and the movement of the boat is imperceptible, both from up here and for the passengers down there. The sky is blue and the sea is blue. The ship is gleaming white. Everything looks just as it should do.
This time we zoom straight in. Our gaze comes to a rest above a man leaning against the railing of the lower deck. The man stands staring out to sea. We drop down until level with his gaze then turn outwards to the ocean to see what he sees. Our gaze meets the line of the horizon. We see two-thirds sky and one-third sea. The breeze lifts and moves the man's hair. He brushes it from his eyes with thick hands.
The man drops his gaze away from the horizon. We follow his line of sight downward to the notebook in his hand. We move in closer, until we're just six inches above the surface of the paper.
The man begins to draw. We're hit by the heady smell of ink from his fountain pen. The pen nib scratches and the ink soaks into the fibres. He draws quickly using black ink on off-white paper. He draws a few lines, a curve, then a shape, then turns the page and begins again.
Above him, the ship's radar completes another circuit. The man turns the page, draws a few lines, a curve then turns the page again. The breeze gently flickers the pages of his notebook. His pen hovers alongside us, perfectly balanced, perfectly poised. He turns the page and writes:
THE FOREST IS THE BEST PLACE
The man raises his eyes, re-focuses and resumes his examination of the horizon. We move out, then up. The black marks soon recede to a point of invisibility.
This time, the location is a cruise ship.
The ship is in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, exactly equidistant between Europe and America. The wind is calm and the sea is calm and the movement of the boat is imperceptible, both from up here and for the passengers down there. The sky is blue and the sea is blue. The ship is gleaming white. To us, everything looks just as it should do.
As we move in closer we begin to pick out more detail. We can see the ship's three pools: two rectangles and one circle of turquoise. Swimmers and sunbathers present as blurred pixels of orange, white and pink. Above them the ship's radar completes another circuit.
Our gaze retreats from the bright deck and seeks out the high shaded bulk of the ship below. We slip in through a porthole towards the rear of the ship and then move on through cabins and corridors.
The ship unexpectedly lurches and a door a swings open to the left. This is the cabin we are looking for, dead in the centre of the ship. We move unseen into the cabin and fix our gaze upon the young man seated upon an upright chair by the bed. In here the air is still and the artificial light is gloomy. There are no portholes to reveal either night or day.
The young man in the chair stands and begins to carefully fold items from a pile of clothes upon the bed. He folds each item and places it in a suitcase that is open upon the bed. He folds pale blue shirts, white shirts, jeans, and a red pullover.
The room is small and the air is still. Our gaze is forced up close behind the young man. He begins to collect his other possessions and place them in the suitcase. We follow his gaze as he checks that the shelves and cupboards are empty.
We focus in on his hands as he brings the lid down on the case. He picks up a marker pen and uncaps it. He closes the lid of the case and writes upon it. He writes:
TRÈS FRAGILE
He leaves the case on the bed and leaves the room.
Glimpses of the USA, a multi-screen work by Charles and Ray Eames, was commissioned by the United States Information Agency for the America exposition in Moscow in 1959.
The Forest is the Best Place, is a hanging mobile by Alexander Calder from1945. The work is in the collection of the Moderna Museet, Stockholm.
The forest is the best place
Publication for solo exhibition
Market Gallery
Glasgow 2005
Text: Joanne Tatham
© JOANNE TATHAM, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED