In April 2006, after the end of the first Text Festival, I installed Vertigo, the first exhibition of my own works, in the Sleeper Gallery in Edinburgh. This began my practice of installation writing in which I created site-specific poetic texts responding to the gallery space and/or its location. Thus each of my shows was accompanied by a publication. Vertigo the book had a print run of 50 - as far as I know they sold. By way of anniversary, I include a short extract here: observers assigning times
and positions to events where every desire is anticipated, except
the moment of passing, emptying, wasting men moving with
respect can still agree on the time and the distance between
their positions measured at equal times separately, then
intersect, signifying a collision or encounter along a corridor as
dark as poetry in the largest proper time – with liabilities vertigo
overlaid. Gravity requires this curvature of rooms must be created
in the matter, the embodiment, which artists generally interpret
as the tendency to fall over or drop to the floor, the world-lines
of art accelerated only by gravity with the longest proper times
the never-ending list of plodding numbers. The space of our
room fooled us dreaming geometry as a logical necessity each
point in the picture represents an event an endpoint in space
at a single moment, an orchestrated reduction having only
an instantaneous existence. Their whole of history/stroke life,
encopresis drill, nondescript years and finally unnatural pallor,
a person, persisting in time, not by a point but by a line, the
world-line of the person, like art fading out of and into the mist – a text predicated on products rather than the processes clear
and white is a room clear and white is everything that is not
vertigo
