Image: My mother Helen in doorway
CW: Death, addiction
'We protect ourselves, we barricade ourselves in. Doors stop and separate.' - Georges Perec
1. We all have doors in our lives, whether we own them or not, some feel more like ours than others. I think we've all thought a lot more about other peoples touch lingering on doors lately, with Covid spreading. I've always tried to push parts of doors that other people weren't pushing, but I suppose that's more of a distanced intimacy thing, rather than a germs thing. It's rare that I hold hands with anyone, sometimes holding a door handle is like holding someones hand. I've felt the same way about light switches and remember feeling jealous of my mother's light switch, because she touched it daily, more than she ever touched me.
Her front door changed as her addictions grew. It used to be open more, until it was smashed in and hard to get to. A few years before her death, the garden gate had a bulk of padlocks, maybe out of paranoia, maybe out of a need to feel safe, because the world she mixed in was a dark one, too dark for her somewhat naive and bohemian ways. She used to let everyone in, then she did all she could to keep people out, unless they were like her, a part of this other world, where people wanted to be anywhere else but where they were.
Filmed on location at 'Cabin Fever' at Artcore Gallery, Chris Moss discusses his involvement and reaction to 'The Derby Witness'.
A poem inspired by the reactions from members of the public to 'The Derby Witness' at Artcore Gallery, presented as part of the Cabin Fever Residency, Spring 2021.
Written and recorded on location at 'Cabin Fever', Artcore Gallery, Cathedral Quarter Derby
It's been a busy few weeks at the cabin.In-between running mini workshop sessions I have managed to find a little time for drawing the world outside o the cabin from inside the cabin. A few small tapestries have also materialised onto the board. The ebook is also underway with participants stories and I would like to thank all of you for your contributions.
The following poem is inspired by the reactions of members of the public to ‘The Derby Witness’ at Artcore Gallery, presented as part of the Cabin Fever Residency, Spring 2021.Witness I can smell cigarette smoke Hear voices I don’t recognise Mouths hidden behind stylish face coverings No more powder blue PPE as standard Now, we strut, fashionistas The streets are our runway Rocking our lockdown bods and comfy shoes At a respectable two-metre distance I am blindsided by the sight of people Doing everyday things like they used to do before It seems normality has been restored In all it’s hideous, beautiful, mundane glory But there’s no pressure, Take your own time to step back into your spotlight We’ll wait Consider this a reset A chance for humanity to not to repeat the mistakes of the past But to heal and repair and to learn what’s really important Weep when you need to Dance when you want to Hold those long distance closer than before Raise a glass to absent friends Maybe it’s not the end of the world, but just the beginning A second coming of the roaring twenties Where we stand and roar together Our voices raised against injustice We come back stronger Like flowers from the soil, we too shall rise The heat of the sun on our faces As is for the first time An ordinary life, after extraordinary days Never taking anything for granted again.
4th May 2021