has really happened.
This is an audio recording made by the artist of a thunderstorm, over
Let me paint a picture for you:
A man and woman stand beneath
one of the large black poplar trees which forms the great avenue
that winds its way through the open park land from east to
In the distance, young black men in BMWs speed up Grove Road;
the absence of loud music is due to the Governments recent
ban on audio equipment in mot or vehicles. Overweight white men
in white transit vans also occupy the road: the absence of music
is due to the lack of interest.
a recording of just one thunderstorm; but of several, all pasted
together to create the artists own personal storm.
The womans hands are wet
and cold. She slides her left hand into her coat pocket and the
other into her companions open palm. He gently squeezes her fingers
in recognition. From beneath the shelter of the tree, the couple
survey the Parks expanse in silence.
Distant rumbles: blanket bombing over Hackney. Anti-aircraft guns
in the park do their best to bring down the enemy.
This is not a recording of a thunderstorm in a park but in fact
a variety of other sounds designed to sound like one.
A thin layer of mist sits just
inches above the grass. The majestic form of a fountain rises up
from clusters of white roses into the beating rain. Its gilded cherubs
spit forth saliva whilst trying to escape the coils of giant serpents
which weave their way skywards.
He looks into her eyes. She smiles, despite all things she is lost.
A dog barks in defiance as a car bomb explodes in Lauriston Road.
This recording wasnt made in Victoria Park but in the artists
own garden in Cambridgeshire.
An ornithologist plays a tape
recording of bird songs: the two lovers watch as the elderly gentleman
does his best to communicate with the crows, but all he attracts
A man has been paid by the artist to dig a hole in Victoria Park.
This has really happened.
This text accompanies
the sound piece in E9 at Transition
by Gary O'Connor