Joey Schrauwen

episode 2 of this saga.

A steel cable is wired through the ends of the wood. The branches were once limbs to the plane-tree.

Acerfolia translates to 'leafs like the maple'. It is the Latin name of this Platanus. It receives it's name through a resemblance to another species.

A steel cable is wired through the ends of the wood. The branches were once limbs to the plane-tree.

Acerfolia translates to 'leafs like the maple'. It is the Latin name of this Platanus. It receives it's name through a resemblance to another species.

This lantern serves to see within. It rotates on a swaying axis; ever inward. A single light-source illuminates a body subjected to it’s own handling.

Operating it invokes dizzieness. Performed in a dark space, it is almost impossible to synchronize the sense of motion with a visual reference. Inside the object, hanging from the ceiling, one can only see what is on the inside due to the lighting.

A mantra of ‘I am moving’ befriends the spirit of vertigo. Engagement creates opportunities to briefly transcend beyond the nauseating nature of this self inflicted state.

Reaching for the light; just as a branch would find its way. Seeking sun by feeling the sky. When does movement awaken nourishment; as it were a prerequisite for photosynthesis.

Built on location with no planning beforehand, this instrument was conceived on a spontaneous urge. One could say it grew from of the surroundings. Slats, a hand-drill and a handful of hardware.

Handling the machine, I move in spirit of the present. When extended, the weight causes leaning and bending. It survives by giving way; as trees facing the wind.

As the object unfolds it deepens the sense of space. The expansion and retraction challenges our own magnitude.

The creaking wood echoes. The scissors reach out into the sky to pick up even the faintest signals. Through focus and duration the faces of present spirits surface.

When the angle is right the branch vibrates clear tones within itself. I drag the wood and attune to changes in resistance. Between the tonal moments it produces a continuous sound similar to the exhale of a deep breath.

Through this breathing branch the clear sounds slowly form. The wood stutters as it finds it's voice. Each branch has its own expression; some sing, while others grunt and mumble.

The technique resembles the handling of a Tibetan bowl. Tracing a circular path scratches the stone. The lines become thin shallow groves in which the wood often gets caught.

Every step generates its succesor. The weight of the wheel carries the momentum between moments of impact.

The heart relates to the pace of turning. The energy of the wheel and body echo each other.

As the steel thuds & the wood creaks, a rhythm emergences. In musical terms the wheel could be viewed as a percussion instrument.

Running on all fours has always been a fascination of mine. I pursued fluidity to where I would outrun a walking pace. The dark figure in frame coincidentally walking behind me became an anchor point in this pursuit.

Dreams were a key to finetuning the technique. I practiced the finer details of the locomotion while asleep. This allowed me to turn off gravity and slow down time and master this quadrupedal tread.

Performing in public space allows the surroundings to co-create the happening. The people around me become both witness and performer. Playing outside alleviates me from the dull burden of total control.